Beyond The Veil.....
nothing lives here anymore.
they closed that tiny bookstore,
and the bar on the corner is gone.
the sidewalks swept and empty,
windows covered with dust.
would be lovers ride by radios blaring,
cell phones grafted to their ears.
no one makes love anymore,
masturbation detoxification.
crows hanging on the brick walls,
apartment doors bolted and locked.
caught a meth lab in the church basement,
and they've cut down all the trees.
no one jumps from windows,
babies born in sterile rooms.
tongues lie dormant in desire's mouth,
perfume suffocates the senses.
the threat of rain, everybody scatters,
for fear of getting wet!
cept the old blind man walking his dog,
who sees beyond the veil!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Wistfully Watching
They explore the world
through windows,
church windows,
school windows,
two up, two down windows,
castle windows,
large windows,
small windows.
They see it all,
from blameless to guilty,
from noble to treacherous,
through windows.
From skyscraper windows,
to basement flat windows,
from paupers windows,
and palace windows
they watch, absorb, suck it in.
Later when they have grown
they will remember,
try to empathise,
rationalise
decipher the coded metaphors,
but some day
they will be demoralised
by the windows of life.
There they sit __ wistfully watching __
the children
of our times.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Past Due
bird droppings on the windshield
of an old car that wont start
radio blaring the news
an execution, a robbery, another
meth lab, shovel ready jobs.
people without faces speed by,
cell phones stuck in their ears.
behind closed doors, the clock ticks
where to go from here?
the groan of survival,
cardboard boxes and trunks
renting life, three months past due!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Since I've Come To My Senses
Giving up on my life,
To not sleep peacefully at night.
With a pacing of the floor...
Back and forth and uptight.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses,
Open are those doors I've closed before.
Giving up on my dreams,
To witness them flow downstream...
Panicked.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses,
Down came those fences...
And defenses raised.
Doing things for others to see them pleased,
With approval unshown...
They appreciated me.
Not anymore.
Since I've come to my senses.
I will not be accused,
For something done I did do.
To then feel used and psychologically abused...
With an inflicting of my own torment?
No!
Not anymore...
Since I've come to my senses.
Giving up on my life to feel accepted,
As a focused objective to have others reject...
No.
Not anymore.
I've closed those doors.
There are so many others I had to learn to open,
With a coming to my senses.
Before I prevented so much I now can see.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Shackles
an old Esso sign,
broken down,
standing in the corner.
empty block building,
windows broke out,
wind whistles through the dust.
an old set of shackles,
hanging on a peg.
two broken chairs,
and an empty coke bottle.
lost on the road
that no one travels anymore.
an old rotary phone...
a tattered flag on the floor.
an old Chevy up on blocks,
black crows flying overhead...
i sit down and light a smoke,
staring at the shackles....
and letting go!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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At Night With The Rain
i have closed the doors
and the windows
and let go the curtains
touching the floors
i close my eyes and listen
to the rain
i dream of stars
i miss the moon
the walls close on in me
beyond the glass windows
to the sea
i hear the sad calls of the
night
outside the trees are blown
the black cat stares at me
and then some tears
begin to fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Be Honest With You
the christmas songs are played
and i do not remember anything anymore
these songs come and go and my years are shorter.
last year
is just like today.
there is no meaning anymore.
and i am not giving any chunk of me anymore.
i am sealed. i am a house with doors and windows closed.
i am sleeping inside it.
and it will be years before i wake up.
don't worry. i will not tell them that you are a
part of me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Freedom Tears Down Walls
when we desire
to take a really
close look at society
we should never
waste time precious
walking to windows
we should look clear
straight through walls
through closed doors
stereotype minefields
begin in individual minds
freedom begs visions
walls guarded power secrets
do not preserve inspire peace
they fear greed justify wars
poem by Terence George Craddock
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By Unmarked Graves....
i read the labels of soup cans,
the poetry of mechanized food.
while children starve in the back seats,
of cars up on blocks.
and cell phones pray with neon glow,
to the souls of the fathers
buried in unemployment lines.
heartless bastards wave numbing flags,
guarding the border, masks and rifles cocked.
bars on the windows of pregnant schools,
where freedom unravels with sterile yawns.
the fields are quiet, bodies decompose...
crows pick fruit from trees long dead.
microwave Jesus's fill plastic bowls
with fingers severed from forgotten hands.
live or die, most choose death!
young lovers taunt roaches on motel walls.
the wheels of justice groan in the heat,
and darkness erect, prophesies.
the labels of soup cans,
and the brim of old hats!
leaving only tongues left naked
by unmarked graves!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Nobody 'cept You
Nothin' 'round here to me that's sacred
'cept you, yeah you
Nothin' 'round here to me that matters
'cept you, yeah you
You're the one that reaches me
You're the one that i admire
Y every time we meet together
I feel like i'm on fire
Nothin' matters to me
And there's nothin' i desire
'cept you, yeah you
Nothin' 'round here i care to try for
'cept you, yeah you
Got nothin' here to live or die for
'cept you, yeah you
As a kid i'd hear it
Yes in church all the time
Make me feel so good inside
So peaceful, so sublime
Now nothin' does remind me of that
Old familiar chime
'cept you, yeah you
Used to run in the cemetery
Dance and run and sing when i was a child
An' it never seemed strange
But now i just pass mournfully by
That place where the bones of life are piled
I know somethin' has changed
I'm a stranger here and no one sees me
'cept you, yeah you
Nothin' anymore seems to please me
'cept you, yeah you
Your love hypnotizes me
An' holds me in its spell
Ev'rything runs by me
Just like water from a well
Ev'rybody wants my attention
Ev'rybody's got somethin' to sell
'cept you, yeah you
I'm in love with you
I'm in love with you
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hospital
Large, heavy, wooden, daunting doors
loom before my eyes as I enter.
An empty side office, reception
with old fashioned filing cabinets,
dark now, glass shutters, closed.
Another heavy door in front of me,
this one leads to a wide, cold floored corridor.
I baulk, want to turn heel, go home.
The black and white tiling, lofty ceiling,
does nothing but repulse me.
More heavy, locked doors
with tiny, peep hole windows, all barred.
Screaming, faint screaming echoes,
ghost like, as it drifts towards me
gradually getting louder.
I reach a wide, stone staircase.
Everything's locked and bolted,
no one passes and the screaming echoes.
Asylums, those old mental hospitals,
where we still send the forgotten
to live out their lives and rot.
You wouldn't ever call this home
and the world outside rolls on
as the traffic drifts by.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
oh no, I hear someone,
talking to me, I answer them,
oh, sorry sir, did not know you
were on cell phone.
Oh, so many,
shut up, and walk.
Do away with cell phones,
and it would be like,
the crash of '29'.
People need cell phones,
sometimes their nice,
to have, but so many,
cell phones, might
as well join them
if you can't lick 'em,
join them.
Cell phone, cell phone
now how do I use this
thing, oh cell phone, cell phone,
Hello, Hello, oh that's
you mert.
wrote 1-19-07
The inner me
My aspirations hurt me
I escape from the mistakes I commit
They anger me
The hardships I have
Rise above me
These confusions of desire
Against the walls of my mind
Breaking some well locked doors
Tearing the closed windows apart
The colors that I want to see
Blind me for a while
I float in the air
Over the wide sea
I look for wings
To fly and sustain me
I rest a while
Close my eyes
And listen to this sound
Singing and chanting
Inside me
I am dying to live
And be myself
Sublime and strong.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unemployment Shame
Rows and rows of boxes
All of them the same
With rooms and rooms of people
Each without a name
Hearts that beat, though breaking
And smiles that mask the pain
Of fading hopes of sunshine
Through windows drenched with rain.
Once lovers, now not speaking
Except to lay the blame
For broken dreams and the poverty
Of unemployment shame.
Empty cupboards and drunken sleep
Are all part of the game
But hungry babies wake them still
On mornings all the same.
poem by Jane Solanrobertson
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Black Thunder
black thunder/ broken pieces, tired eyes.
church bells silent ringing, crow feet scarred pillows.
small children walking, without tongues praying,
wagon wheels bogged down in sand.
black thunder/ second hand lives, worn out lies.
dead soldiers mournful singing, borrowed tomorrows.
blind mouths moving, talking without saying,
unlit rooms forged by fugitive hands.
black thunder/ pregnant women without faces.
waves lapping orphan feet, ships lost in the storm.
refugee stars lost in unmarked skies,
an old tree dying rotting on the ground.
black thunder/ families disappearing without traces.
trash blown deserted streets, old men waiting to be born.
molded crucifixes, covered with flies,
clouds chant scriptures without a sound.
(guns silent weeping,
angels prayerful sweeping.
dreams born dying, dreams unfolding,
looking without seeing, touching without holding.)
black thunder/ hungry barefoot ghosts whisper.
priests covered in blood, empty windows open.
tiny infinities wrapped in colored matchsticks,
nowhere standing lost by the road.
black thunder/ brothers burying virgin sisters.
dialogue without talking, homeless heroes smoking.
ants' prophecies well hidden, time worn bricks,
strangers huddled against the cold.
black thunder/ salvation starved borrowed clothes.
smoke charred walls, forever dripping to the floor.
flesh tokens paid, lifetimes yet unforgiven,
candles dressed in cemetery suits.
black thunder/ nobody cares, nobody knows.
horses stomping stalls, doors open to doors.
while the dead barter for the living,
with bayonets and religious boots....
black thunder!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Why Am I Needing This?
I am not those dark days lived.
To perform an existing within shadows.
I am not,
One who sits comfortably...
Fixed to fears,
Of my own image appearing...
On walls that I visit forelorned.
I can not accept a misery imposed upon me.
I can not accept...
My own reflection hinting with signs of neglect.
I am the light that brightly shines...
On the other side of closed windows.
I am the light that brightly shines...
Beyond closed and locked doors,
My mind has been convinced...
I'm needing more to restrict my addictions.
I'm needing more of this...
To keep and explore!
'I am not those dark days lived',
I say.
'I am not that one existing,
Within the restriction of shadows.'
I am the light that brightly shines...
On the other side of closed windows.
I live beyond closed and locked doors!
And yet I am a victim,
Of my own self inflicting addictions.
Why am I needing this...
To keep adventured and explored?
'Why am I needing this?
Why from it I just can't quit? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'm Not Going Hungry
I'm not going hungry anymore
Your sweet love's what I've been hungry for
But since we locked our hearts together now my table set forever
I'm not going hungry anymore.
Happiness is where you are and that's all I need to know
I'm gonna plant a tree of love and just sit back and watch it grow
I'm giving loving everything I've got I'm striking while the iron is hot
I'm not going hungry anymore.
I'm giving loving everything I've got I'm striking while the iron is hot
I'm not going hungry anymore
I'm not going hungry anymore.
song performed by by Charlie Rich, lyrics by Freddie Hart from Behind Closed Doors (1973)
Submitted by Jeffrey Kosloske
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Brick Windows
Been bangin my head against the window
Just trying to see the world outside
Some people say it doesnt matter
Some people take you for a ride
I am covered in blood and broken glass
It seems the window likes to fight
Some people say the worlds on fire
Some people say the worlds on ice
Some people say the worlds on ice
? all alone in a relation
Brick windows
I am sticking my face right through the glass
Just trying to see if the worlds alive
Some people will say the windows broken
Some people will say its all right
Some people will say its all right
Keep bangin my head against the wall oh
Just trying to keep the past alive
Some people who make the windows shatter
Some people who make it airtight
Some people who make it airtight
? all alone in a relation
? all alone in a relation
Brick windows
Brick windows
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Empty
closed!
out of business!
building for rent,
or sale!
22 vacant buildings on one street!
small-town America.
even the sidewalks are deserted...
except for paper cups,
and cigarette butts blowing
in the breeze...
empty windows,
boarded up doors....
the echo of voices
from the past,
from another day...
lost to the great empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Andy And Opie
shots ring out in the middle
of the night...
tires squeal, a body falls.
the shades are drawn, better
turn out the lights...
9-1-1, nobody calls
old woman lying
in a pool of blood,
her check is gone, check long gone...
crackin, crankin,
swept away by the flood
you're all alone, all alone...
there are bars on the windows
there are locks on the doors
young kids dying in the alleys
dont know what they're dying for
no one has the time to care
and no one is keeping score
Andy and Opie just
dont live here anymore....
Andy and Opie just
dont live here anymore.
baby girls got a baby
the daddy's lost
dreams crumble, ashes to dust...
left her in a dumpster
cant pay the cost
feel the heart beating, weeping to rust...
there are bars on the windows
there are locks on the door
young kids dying in the alleys
dont know what they're dying for
no one has the time to care
and no one is keeping score
Andy and Opie just
dont live here anymore...
Andy and Opie just
dont live here anymore...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am Not Afraid Of Emptiness
i may not have told you, but now i will tell it to you
three times,
girl, i am not afraid of emptiness
the one that walks upon you when you were once this huge
space like a Gothic church with doors like mountains and windows
like continents
the sound of emptiness reverberates like a tin cup
that falls on the iron rails of this room
it fills every nerve that coils upon itself and forms a hand gripping
for waterfalls
it closes the ears and rips every rational entries that your eyes
write in the pages of your journal
it encloses you like a mental jacket of that new patient
at ward 6,
it walls you in like you are a chair inside the congested kitchen
look, who likes the congestion of the spirits?
who likes the choking of the nicks of time?
who likes a light imprisoned in its own flames
burning itself upon itself like a candle consuming both of its ends?
who like the mezzanine filled with letters that you keep
containing love stories of suicide and escape?
look upon your face too crowded with your senses?
it is a forest with trees killing each other for an ounce of light
roots upon roots and leaves upon leaves this world is too crowded
with unraveling thoughts
i am not afraid of emptiness
i like my windows opening all the days of my life
i like doors without locks
stairs without rails, houses without walls and roofs
i live in open space and yes right here inside my heart
i thrive in its empty spaces without the nerves and the veins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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