History (Became A Child)
the grandbaby in his arms
brings back the old house.
buckets of water carried
up the hill...
cutting wood to feed the stove.
an old mattress on the floor,
a coffee pot well stained.
spiders on the outhouse wall,
the garden, and the hoe.
the cooking pot and the rocking chair,
handmade quilts, green beans snapped.
simple beginnings that wrote history,
and history became a child!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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If One.....
if one word
could change the world,
i'd say it,
and go home.
if one action
would stop the wars,
i'd do it,
whatever the cost.
if one intent
could change the way
we see each other,
i'd follow it
to my grave.
if one desire
could feed the hungry,
it would be,
my only desire!
if one life
would pay the cost,
that brings freedom,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Our Youth!
our youth...
far stronger than we thought!
laying down their techno-crap,
and picking up the dirty work
of restoring freedom.....
with firm resolve, though stripped
of the rights of free speech,
making a statement
by their committed presence!
showing the intelligence to question,
and the sight to see beyond
the moral indignity offered...
almost as if it were their future!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Set The Fire!
tear down the house!
throw all of your possessions
on the pile...
the possessions that owned you!
all of your memories,
your prejudices, your acts of
vengeance and greed...
all the things you think you needed...
your rights, your wrongs,
your halo, your guns...
your patriotism, your pride,
and the doors you locked...
all on the pile,
without looking back...
set the fire!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Progress Of Man?
you cut the howl from your dogs,
blunt the claws of your cats...
then leave them for Buicks to devour
on hungry homeless roads.
cut the balls off your boys,
give them guns, make them soldiers.
then send them to die
under the flag of the lie.
sell your daughters like meat,
burn your grandchildrens dreams...
in the pipes of your excess
in smoke filled rooms.
the progress of man?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Around # 3
the hand of God, the hand of fate,
where do you cast the blame?
humanity, cursed by apathy,
acts of murder in God's name.
national pride, guess what they lied,
putting money in the bank.
bombs falling, terror crawling,
putting gas in the tanks.
and the world comes crashing down.
in too deep, the fearful drown.
stand up and be, or just sit down.
what goes around comes around.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Call It Eternity
kiss me, dammit!
just for a moment
i want to feel
like i'm still real
close your eyes
and lay with me
your heart beating
as rhythmic as the sea
tides going out,
tides coming in
salt spray on your face!
let the night last forever
i dont care to see the dawn
i've seen forever in the softness
of your eyes undressed with want.
love me,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Homeless, In America!
he's got that
coal mine Christmas
late October stare...
sleeping in an abandoned boxcar
down by the tracks...
small pine branch fire,
eyes scour the road;
coffee, a few boiled potatoes,
a smoke as the sun goes down....
a returning vet....
with no place to go!
oil wars, bombs light the sky,
dead bodies walk in his dreams...
disillusioned, disembodied,
homeless, in America!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Snail Crossing.... (Part Two)
if you cant forgive someone... look in the mirror, ... i mean, really look! it gets easier. i'm not interested in your religion... just in your heart! i dont care if you like me, if you agree with me.... only if you'll work with me to help restore dignity to humanity.
what we do every day, every step we take, every move we make, every
word we say, either brings life, or takes life!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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That Feel Nothing
how many small children,
in this country and abroad,
will go to bed hungry tonite?
how many eyes
staring in the darkness...
never making a sound?
how much money wasted
on extravagance and greed...
how much more importance
placed on oil than food?
how many bombs dropped?
how many shares traded?
how many children
that no one sees?
and how many hearts
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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