Blame It On God
i hear the clamor,
i feel the roar.
waves pounding against the rocks,
bare feet walking the tiny cell.
the lies we've told
much less than the lies we've become.
blame it on god,
and kill the insurrection.
for every bite we take,
another does without.
for every turn of the page,
another grave is dug.
we pray to war,
afraid to sleep by ourselves.
and borrow from the darkness,
to silence the dawn.
even the children of hate,
cry, shit, and need.
we throw rocks at the dogs,
smoke churning from the stack.
with blood on our lips,
we recite the faceless chant.
walk away from the fires,
cold and unaffected.
god shakes the lice from her head,
covering bodies with ashes and dirt.
rocks the orphan in stillness,
feeds the begger from her breasts.
cleans the urine and pus,
from the old woman dying.
holds the shaking addict,
hears the murderer's prayer.
fills the bowls of the hungry,
covers the homeless with blankets.
sits all night in the cell
of the falsely condemned.
walks like moonlight
through the barelimbed trees,
to stand outside your window...
or could it be just the wind?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Get Your Rocks Off
by Bob Dylan
You know, there's two ol' maids layin' in the bed,
One picked herself up an' the other one, she said:
"Get your rocks off!
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, there late one night up on Blueberry Hill,
One man turned to the other man and said, with a blood-curdlin' chill, he said:
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, we was layin' down around Mink Muscle Creek,
One man said to the other man, he began to speak, he said:
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, we was cruisin' down the highway in a Greyhound bus.
All kinds-a children in the side road, they was hollerin' at us, sayin':
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me!
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cleveland Rocks
(ian hunter)
Three! four!
Three! four!
Three! four!
(bunch of ah-ah-ahs here)
All this energy calling me
Back where it comes from
Its such a crude attitude
Its back where it belongs
All the little kids growing up on the skids are goin
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Jumpin (jean) gene genies, moody james deanies goin
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Mama knows but she dont care
Shes got her worries too
Seven kids and a phony affair
And the rent is due
All the little chicks with the crimson lips go
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Shes livinin sin with a safety pin
Shes goin cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
I got some records from world war two
Ill play em just like me grand dad do
He was a rocker and I am too
Oh cleveland rocks, yeah cleveland rocks
So find a place
Grab a space
And yell and scream for more
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
(bunch of ah-ah-ahs here)
Three! four!
Three! four!
Three! four!
Ohio
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Are The Lionheart
Destiny took me in her arms and told me:
"You're a little lost on the fall.
You fall for all the men
You shouldn't fall for all at all."
Ooh, I know she knows, but still I go on,
Well, I'm a fool.
Climbing up the ladders
To slide down the adders
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks...
Joan of Arc walks into my mirror,
A burning sword.
I'd like to cry.
I look into her eyes.
I see she's seen the long days and night.
"Ooh," she says,
"The games are still the same, I see,
But they've changed the names now.
Are all Lionhearts put in parks, apart?"
Lionhearts in the asylums,
Lionhearts tossed at sea,
Lionhearts who've lived their lives, like Arthur.
Lionhearts in cathedrals,
Lionhearts at mournings,
Lionhearts in every seed
But they're sown
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks...
Somebody I couldn't see
Tied me up and put me away,
Here on the rocks,
Here on the rocks,
Here on the rocks...
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rock Garden
in my present garden
i put rocks and pebbles
some sands
added dusts
they ask what do i grow
in there?
i put a chair and sit there
alone
barefoot i put my hands
in the open
i gaze
feeling like the sun
to some
planets
the stones as i walk
for a while
grate
as though they have
teeth
then back to where i sit
they begin
to grow silence
silence is a lotus
it is a pond too where
a dragonfly is
hovering
there is this stillness of a
little universe
the space is emptiness
of imaginary
stars
there is no moon here
no one is lost
there are no leaves
no pretensions of stems and calyx
the stones are faceless
like everyone that i meet in the mall
the rocks stand like gods
unchanged unaffected by the chaos of
my thoughts
i gaze
transfer my eyes to those that remain
intact
immutable hardness
fixed situations
they only sound when you take a walk
they do not rearrange things here
for they are heavy
and always
unchanged, unaffected
steady, firm
lifeless, unfeeling
stubborn, solid,
tonight darkness sleeps with them
its coldness seeps in every stone
lifelessly
always unaffected, unfeeling
and much as i wanted to stay
i can't
i have life out there
a door to open again and again...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Know Them, And To Care!
we who walk
with the stink
of humanity...
who know the tears,
and name the sorrows
that only darkness holds...
who nurse at the breasts
of the woman branded...
who wash her hands and feet
as she lays dying....
who hold the orphaned children
close... taking their sickness....
who pray with the murderers,
who share with the thieves.
who walk with the crippled,
and hold the shaking addict....
we are by them blessed....
to know them, and to care!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Water edge suicide
Here I am above the sea'
Sat on the rocks thinking and dying.
Just what is there left for me?
A life of fear and pain in the unknown.
I walk down to the sand
As iI take of my shoes shaking are my hands.
One bare foot placed in front of the other
These are my last steps to freedom.
I walk in to the sea.
Futher and futher I walk.
Waves getting water getting colder.
I walk on without fear,
I am not afraid.
It’s no more threatening
Than the life I shall leave behind me..
Now as I throw My head back.
And sway with the roaring waves
Awaiting my death.
And the final attack.
Amongst this freezing cold water.
Now savaging my body
I take one last look
I have no last regrets.
My eyes have now closed.
At last I am free
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Shattered Image
I used to sit for hours as a kid
And dangle my feet from an old flat bridge
Seeing myself in the water below
Shatter my image with the rocks Id throw
Shatter my image with the rocks Id throw
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Im far from perfect but I aint all bad
And it hurts me more than it makes me mad
We all do things that we dont want told
And we all throw stones that we shouldnt throw
You shatter my image with the rocks you throw
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
If you live in a glass house dont throw stones
Dont shatter my image til you look at your own
Look at your reflection in your house of glass
Dont open my closet if your owns full of trash
Stay out of my closet if your owns full of trash
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks you throw
Dont shatter my image with the rocks you throw
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shame Is On The Rocks
Guess whos walking in your tracks
(dont look back)
Forcing you to re-enact
(making contact)
No-ones safe when
Shame is on the rocks
Theres no faith when
Shame is on the rocks
Bow your head, youll hear his call
(hear his call)
Such a shame, for one so tall
(instant recall)
No-one walks when
Shame is on the rocks
Theres no talk when
Shame is on the rocks
Slower than the second coming
It will happen all the same
Knowing why the spirits broken
Its a shame
Think before you say a word
(someone heard)
Go before you are disturbed
(days are numbered)
Lose your aim when
Shame is on the rocks
Miss the train when
Shame is on the rocks
Shame is the one with power in his hand
There he waits, without a plan
But no-one came, its such a...
Shame is the same for you and you and you
There are no chosen few
Who will remain? its such a...
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Need Scriptures....
if you need scriptures,
read the scriptures written
on the walls of your soul!
read the scriptures written
in trees, in rocks, in rivers.
read the scriptures written
in the broken alley.
in the homeless man's eyes,
in the addict's desperation,
in the shuffle of jobless feet.
in the cry of the newborn baby,
in the lovers moan of fulfillment,
the scriptures written
in the sweet darkness of night,
in the jail cell,
in the picket line,
in the monk who sets himself
on fire for freedom and justice,
in all the colors of equality...
in the hungry child's hand reaching out...
read them, know them, be them!
life testifies to the living!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Are (My Children)
standing in line at the mission,
they're ladeling bowls of steaming soup.
the winter wind whips down
between the buildings like a knife...
pulling tattered coats tight hunching.
and i can hear Shantideva whisper,
his hand on the ladel...
his body the meat of the soup,
his blood the broth...
'these are my children! '....
they walk in long staggered lines,
refugees from the bombing...
hungry scared children clinging,
afarid to lose sight of...
what's left of their families.
nothing behind, and nowhere to go,
not on any side...
and i can hear Jesus whisper,
His life the torch that lights the way,
His body the shelter against the night,
His blood the water, His hands stir the rice...
'these are My children! '....
the addict shivers, strung out and desperate...
the homeless family huddles in the car.
the young prisoner sleepless with the fear,
the old man going hungry feeds his bedridden wife...
the jobless young father begs to pick up trash...
and i know beyond all doubt,
my body, my soul, my spirit...
the wind that hears their cry.
'for these are my children! '...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Sounds Of The Earth
i feel the sounds of the earth,
cant say how or why!
the hurtling swagger of rivers,
the deep bass stillness of mountains.
the whispered longing of the trees,
dancing naked in moonlight.
the hymn of the grasses,
calling forth life.
the groan of the earth,
just turned by the plow!
i hear the reggae beat of the cities,
the hum of movement and work.
the chords of factories and mills,
the horns blown by the shops.
even the hollow beat
of business, of buy and sell.
and the low gutteral moan,
of the homeless, jobless, and lost.
feet without names,
marching without direction.
the cries of young children
afraid and hungry in the night.
the bang of the idol chasers,
the wranglers, and the pimps...
some working the market,
some working the parish.
i hear the sounds of the demons,
that cry war in the night.
that bang the bloody drums
of patriotism and fear.
i hear the sounds of the guns,
the thunder of the bombs.
the last prayers of young men,
dying alone in their fear.
i hear the shuffle of the money,
the boots beneath the table.
i hear the sound of the shovels,
digging grave after grave.
i hear the pen on the page,
as history is written,
in a book that not even
hell could contain!
i hear the churning of stomachs,
the grating of bones.
the tremble beneath
paper thin flesh.
i hear bare feet on the road,
the poor seeking refuge.
i hear the women weeping
as child after child dies.
and i hear the clank of glasses,
food shoveled on plates.
the shallow laughter,
the hypnotic hum of excess.
the condemning guilt,
food thrown in the trash.
the restless panting of the dogs,
just outside the door.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death By Civilization!
when we lit the first fire in the cave,
i heard the mournful weeping of the wolf.
the trees walked away as if they knew,
rocks resigned theirselves to silence.
darkness packed her belongings and left,
the night shuddered with cold.
waves hid in oceans, moonlight hid her face,
even the wind changed her address!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thunderous Snow!
thunderous snow,
born o'er dark silent mountains;
the final prayer,
the last turn of the plow.
air frozen and heavy,
the wind shakes the bones,
the bare trees wait,
naked, and obedient.
time come and gone,
the memory of a kiss fades
into the deep stillness,
and the sleep of the soul.
cries of passion lost,
in the darkness so deep,
that ending and beginning are one!
the hunter stares,
his shadow twisted by moonlight,
the faint taste of flesh,
dried blood on his lips.
a few flurries, a drumbeat,
the wolf howls, no sound!
stillness wraps around fire,
the fields pray empty prayers.
thunderous snow,
love, and cosmos!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace Beyond Time
wolves run
in packs drinking moonlight,
flesh and blood,
hunger and desire!
i am the wolf,
i am the moonlight,
flesh and blood,
hunger and desire.
the hawk glides,
on the wind with eyes,
peeling layer upon layer
for pulsing treasure...
i am the hawk,
i am the wind,
peeling layer upon layer,
for pulsing treasure.
the river winds
through rocks and trees,
making it's own path,
on the way home.
i am the river,
rocks and trees,
making my own path
on the way home....
darkness falls,
wraps around the light,
brings healing stillness,
and peace beyond time.
i am the darkness,
wrapping around light,
i bring healing stillness,
and peace beyond time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rocks In My Bed
My heart is heavy as lead
Because the blues has done spread
Rocks in my bed
Of all the people I see
Why do they pick on poor me
And put rocks in my bed
All night long I weep
So how can I sleep
With rocks in my bed
Theres only two kinds of people
I cant understand
Theres only two kinds of people
I cant understand
Thats a deceitful woman
And a hard faced man
She took my man away
And aint goin bring him back
She took my man away
And aint goin bring him back
Shes lower than a snake down in a wagon track
(bridge)
I got rocks in my bed
I got rocks in my bed
Rocks in my bed
I got rocks in my bed
Under-loved, over-fed
My mans gone, so instead
I got rocks in my bed
Under-loved, over-fed
My mans gone, so instead
I got rocks in my bed
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cynicism, and Hope
as i grow older
my cynicism grows...
i've grown tired of paper kingdoms
& dreams that end
with the taste of blood in my mouth.
i do not believe that
God lives in synagogues & churches,
or in the exhortations of evangelists,
or in the rituals of priests...
or in hell-fire & damnation,
the sword of judgement, the end of time,
or in holy graves...
i see God in the eyes...
the eyes of small children,
of homeless men beneath the bridge...
in the eyes of young lovers
madly lost in each other...
in the eyes of the old woman dying
in the empty house where she raised her children...
in the eyes of the activist arrested
& confined to a cold cell for believing
in human rights...
in the eyes of the addict
whose life is lost in the hole of the memory
that the needle fills...
in the eyes of dead soldiers
forever staring into the rage of war...
in the eyes of those struggling to survive
drowning in the despair of cold reality...
in the eyes that stare at me in the night,
& wont let me sleep without feeling...
in the eyes of the dog lying faithfully at my feet,
with no need to be anywhere else...
who is this God? of form & formless,
of light and shadow, dissolving, redefining...
who's not always male, but often female!
not owned, and not owning....
like the waves that carve the shore,
& leave it nameless...
(hungry for the footprints
of human desire!)
not aloof, but immersed,
almost drunk with sadness & joy...
not bound by dwelling or canyon,
but as free as the wind
that cant be spoken!
do i believe? yes! madly! ecstatically!
in life, & stillness, & even death!
in the song that takes no prisoners,
leaving dew in the parched grass...
& in the Lover who opens & closes the door
of eternity in the human heart...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Okinawa
Armada sails
Island after island
Battalions land
Ominous silence
Jungles become fierce roaring lions
Machine gun nests
Relentless enemy with no surrender
Casualties, the maimed and dying
Rain, mud, the dead unburied
Torture, dehumanization, madness
Corpses defiled
Attack after attack
Night becomes a morbid nightmare
Shadows, ghosts, artillery fire
The rocks splattered with blood
Strategic hills, hidden caves
Caves where fear shivers
They fight and wait for the emperor
Huddled in the cold darkness
Foreign voice echoes off the rocks
Warned to come out for the last time
Some sealed in their bleak darkness
Exploded into kingdom come
Finally the flag waves in sober winds
Thousands and thousands in early graves
Count your dead
Purple hearts
Remember these brave children of war
They no longer hear the guns and roar
They lay silent with honor
Okinawa falls
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Memory Of The Cold!
stirring the ashes
with loving hands,
kneeling down, cupping,
and gently blowing.
i'll set out a rose bush
beneath your bedroom window,
and water it in the dead of night.
the shadow that latches your door,
pulls the cover up around you.
sits and rocks in the peace
of perfect silence...
watching you sleep!
i am the wolf that curls
at the foot of your bed,
the hands of the clock,
stopping in reverence...
the flame that bursts
from ashes almost cold,
catches, and burns away
the memory of the cold!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Devils Island
The light that fills my lonely cell,
Is blocked out by the key,
That locks the door to this hell,
The place they wanted me.
Times racing like the wind,
Executions near,
Oh lord, I wait for death,
And, yes, I have no fear.
I recall that night, my every breath,
And, step along the way.
Closed my eyes, walking,
As danger paved the way.
The devil, and the darkness
Let her evil wander free
And, here on devils island,
The final stop for me.
Chorus:
Devils island, devils island.
Oh, there is no escape,
The sea is full of sharks.
The tide takes you away, and
Smashes you on the rocks.
The sun is shining,
But feel not today,
Its warmth, its dying,
And fading away.
Chorus (repeat):
Devils island, [here I stay,] devils island.
Oh, hear the call,
From the grave beyond.
Oh, so pernicious,
Her soul it creates song.
As there is no man, that is
Here upon the earth,
Able to terminate our
Noisome will since birth.
The priest that reads the sermons,
Is walking next to me,
To the stake, my last request,
To have her burn with me.
But, so it did, the heavens opened,
Rain began to fall.
The final judgement came, and
Was spread before you all.
Final judgement.
Old, weak, and feeble,
But the lesson taught to me,
To stay away from evil,
She doesnt care for me.
She haunts me in my sleep,
Though I tore that page away.
And, here on devils island,
Ill always have to stay.
Chorus (repeat):
Devils island, devils island.
[devils island, devils island.]
Here I am.
Chorus (repeat [4 times]):
Devils island, devils island.
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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