Buddha Thoughts (Meditation)
emptying the old
woman's bedpan...
sunlight sifting
through dirty blinds.
the cough of the clock,
the body, and stillness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Moment Of You
small tiny prayers,
passing thoughts,
a moment of you....
maybe just the sunlight
sifting through the blinds,
the wind blowing a branch
against the windowpane.
the sound of the train
on the distant tracks....
the ticking of the clock
in the dead stillness.
a child laughing and talking,
walking down the road....
a sudden pain in my heart,
that lingers, then is gone.
an empty bird's nest
on the ground beside the shed....
a stray cat begging for food....
small tiny prayers...
clouds in the afternoon sky...
water dripping, an old spicket......
a moment of you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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American Flags Burning
melted down candles,
boots by the door...
the taste of stone walls
lingers in my mouth.
sunlight sifting through
blinds faded by time...
the sound of birds
breaks the deep stillness.
American flags burning,
an old deserted station...
a rusted Ford up on blocks.
the weight of the waiting,
at the foot of the mountains.
the smell of coffee,
and church bells ringing.
time coiled like a viper,
the hammer, and the truth...
they're cracking eggs at the mission,
a lone sign laying beside the road:
'we are the 99%'...
a police car eases by.
melted down candles...
smoke rising from a vacant house.
American flags burning,
and the body count goes higher!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Young Lust
I am just a new boy
Stranger in this town
Where are all the good times?
Who's gonna show this stranger around?
Oh I need a dirty woman
Oh I need a dirty girl
Will some woman in this desert land
Make me feel like a real man?
Take this rock and roll refugee
Oh Babe, set me free
Oh I need a dirty woman
Oh I need a dirty girl
Oh I need a dirty woman
Oh I need a dirty girl
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red-headed Woman
Well, brunettes are fine, man.
Blondes are fun.
But, when it comes to getting the dirty job done,
Ill take a red-headed woman, a red-headed woman.
Yeah, a red-headed woman sure can get that job done.
Well, listen up, sir,
Your lifes been wasted
Until youve been down on your knees,
Oh, man, tasted a red-headed woman, a red-headed woman.
Yeah, a red-headed woman sure gets a dirty job done.
Eh ha ha woo hoo woo.
Ee ee ah ee ah ha ea ha ha woo woo (etc.)
Yeah, little tight skirt, strawberry hair.
Tell me what youve got, baby, waiting under there.
Big green eyes that look like sun
They can see every cheap thing that you ever done
Well, I dont care how many girls you dated.
Man, you aint lived
Till youve had your tires rotated
By a red-headed woman, a red-headed woman.
A red-headed woman sure can get the job done.
Well, all you girls out there tonight
Sure look fine,
But my heart and soul and this body of mine
Is a red-headed womans, a red-headed womans.
Yeah, a red-headed woman sure gets a dirty job done.
Eh ha ha woo hoo woo.
Ee ee ah ee ah ha ea ha ha woo woo (etc.)
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Lust
I am just a new boy,
Stranger in this town.
Where are all the good times?
Whos gonna show this stranger around?
Ooooo I need a dirty woman.
Ooooo I need a dirty girl.
Will some woman in this desert land,
Make me feel like a real man?
Take this rock and roll refugee.
Ooo babe, set me free.
Ooooo I need a dirty woman.
Ooooo I need a dirty girl.
Ooooo I need a dirty woman.
Ooooo I need a dirty girl.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ragged Dirty
1. lord, Im broke, Im hungry, ragged and dirty too,
Broke and hungry, ragged and dirty too.
If I clean up, sweet momma, can I stay all night with you?
2. lord, I went to my window, babe, I couldnt see through my blinds,
Went to my window, babe, I couldnt see through my blinds,
Heard my best friend a-comin and I thought I heard my baby cry.
3. lord, if I cant come in here, baby, then just let me sit down in your door,
If I cant come in here, baby, then just let me sit down in your door,
And I would leave so soon that your man wont never know.
4. how can I live here, baby, lord, and feel at ease?
How can I live here, baby, lord, and feel at ease?
Well, that woman I got, man, she does just what she feels.
5. lord, you shouldnt mistreat me, baby, because Im young and wild,
Shouldnt mistreat me, baby, because Im young and wild.
You must always remember, baby, you was once a child.
6. cause Im leaving in the morning, if I have to ride the blinds,
Leaving in the morning, if I have to ride the blinds.
Well, I been mistreated and I swear I dont mind dyin
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ragged & Dirty
1. lord, i'm broke, i'm hungry, ragged and dirty too,
Broke and hungry, ragged and dirty too.
If i clean up, sweet momma, can i stay all night with you?
2. lord, i went to my window, babe, i couldn't see through my blinds,
Went to my window, babe, i couldn't see through my blinds,
Heard my best friend a-comin' and i thought i heard my baby cry.
3. lord, if i can't come in here, baby, then just let me sit down in your door,
If i can't come in here, baby, then just let me sit down in your door,
And i would leave so soon that your man won't never know.
4. how can i live here, baby, lord, and feel at ease?
How can i live here, baby, lord, and feel at ease?
Well, that woman i got, man, she does just what she feels.
5. lord, you shouldn't mistreat me, baby, because i'm young and wild,
Shouldn't mistreat me, baby, because i'm young and wild.
You must always remember, baby, you was once a child.
6. 'cause i'm leaving in the morning, if i have to ride the blinds,
Leaving in the morning, if i have to ride the blinds.
Well, i been mistreated and i swear i don't mind dyin'
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Tumbles Down
Power blinds, money blinds
And sex blinds. One tumbles down
Hunger blinds; so does revenge
Jealousy blinds. One tumbles down
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It's not the beauty of a woman that blinds the man, the man blinds himself.
Sunday Morning Redemption
Sunday morning redemption...
black coffee and cigarettes,
the silence that only Sunday brings.
the week behind, jumbled and lost.
sifting through the news,
what needs attention?
what cant be helped?
where do we turn the wheel
and place the blade?
whose faces, whose names?
an invitation to think,
and ghosts that walk beside.
the righteous shave and shower,
putting on their best.
somewhere a street bum asks
for a coupla dollars,
trying to panhandle breakfast.
cleaning the marker by the grave,
and talking to no one seen...
an empty feeling in my bones,
that i just cant seem to shake.
sunlight and chill, deep silence;
i can almost trace your features
with hands that tremble, and cough.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Catherine
on top of me is a woman's body
after
a moan is another woman's body
a door opens
for a woman's dressed body
a window closes
for a woman's naked body
Catherine
wolverine in a woman's body
pure cotton
dangling softness in a man's naked mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dirty White Boy
Hey, baby, if youre feelin down
I know whats good for you all day
Are you worried what your friends see
Will it ruin your reputation lovin me
cause Im a dirty white boy
Yeah a dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Dont drive no big black car
Dont like no hollywood movie star
You want me to be true to you
You dont give a damn what I do to you
Im just a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Well, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Ive been in trouble since I dont know when
Im in trouble now and I now somehow Ill find trouble again
Im a loner, but Im never alone
Every night I get one step closer to the danger zone
cause Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Cmon, cmon boy
Dirty white boy, white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Hey, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy, yeah
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Cleo & Joe
Every morning the clock kicks off the beat.
Little Joe struggles just to get up on his feet.
Waits in his platforms for the right train to come.
Sipping his coffee another day has begun
Little Joe got work for minimum wage
Tries to get through another dead beat day
At five a clock he comes home to change
takes him many hours just to rearrange
And he works his body just to be somebody
There's a woman in the mirror looking like a dream
And he works his body and he feels somebody
and the working boy becomes a dancing queen
And he works his body just to be somebody.
There's a woman in the mirror looking like a dream.
And he works his body just to feel somebody
and the working boy becomes a dancing queen.
Every night the DJ kicks off the beat.
Little Cleo's jumping just to get up on her feet.
Waits in her platforms for the right song to come.
Sipping her cocktail another night has begun.
And he works his body just to be somebody.
There's a woman in the mirror looking like a dream.
And he works his body and he feels somebody
and the working boy became a dancing queen.
Every morning the clock kicks off the beat
Little Joe struggles just to get up on his feet.
Waits in his platforms for the right train to come...
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Sisters Of Avalon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Closing The Blinds
little dirty faced boy
in the parking lot
in the rain...
no coat, no shoes...
hiding behind cars,
playing with his
imaginary friend...
the old woman at
the window shakes
her head...
'somebody oughta
do something
about that boy...'
closing her blinds,
she pours another
cup of coffee,
and sits down
to read her Bible.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Small Glimpses Of Holiness
i can remember being a kid,
and going to church on Sunday....
can remember the way the sunlight
danced through the stained glass
windows, the smell of the old
hymnals, the way the hard bench
hurt my back....
can remember singing the old hymns...
(sometimes they come to me
in my sleep....)
but i cant remember any particular sermon!
it's funny what we equate with God,
and holiness... and what we dont!
just as easy i can remember being alone
in the woods, watching sunlight pour
through the pines, listening to the gurgling
of the creek.... and the way the earth felt
beneath my bare feet.....
or the first time i ever made love
to a girl... in the front seat of an
old Rambler.... moonlight sifting through
the trees... and the barking of a dog.
or sleeping in a cave, on the run, and the
damp darkness like a womb enveloping
me... with only the sound of a nearby
waterfall piercing the stillness....
or standing by my mother's grave...
watching a part of myself go back
to the dust...
or the sound of my children's voices
when they just needed assurance....
small glimpses of holiness drifting
through an old man's mind... on the way
back home.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Think Positive
I think positively like leisure,
Surprising like the clock;
A sunlight took my spirits
Jostling in the dark,
Opening a fair stream of waters.
Pellets of sunlight shot through
The branches and struck the ground.
To strike the ground we die over and over,
Smelling repulsive scents of bliss afterwards.
Caught by the breeze, a star such as ours
Feels in a warmth, feels in an emotion.
Strong stars are stronger than miles,
Planets rock on the clock.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Coughing Woman
So what so the woman
Had a bad cough and they
Let her into the cinema to
Watch a film and there she
Was cough cough right through
The movie and it kind of echoed
And at times became the focus
Of attention and the odd person
Said Hey can’t you control that
Coughing? And she coughed in
Reply and the guy next to her
Moved and the dame behind
Tapped her on the shoulder and
Said Oughtn’t you to be in bed
With medication? And the movie
Rolled on and the people watched
Or moaned or did both and then
Towards the end of the film she
Stood up and slowly walking by
The people in the row and said
Sorry sorry and they muttered
Things and whispered words and
Finally she got out in the daylight
And beneath a bright sun and her
Coughing continued as it had begun.
poem by Terry Collett
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Into White
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice
Tables of paper wood, windows of light
And everything emptying into white.
A simple garden, with acres of sky
A brown-haired dogmouse
If one dropped by
Yellow delanie would sleep well at night
With everything emptying into white.
A sad blue eyed drummer rehearses outside
A black spider dancing on top of his eye
Red legged chicken stands ready to strike
And everything emptying into white.
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice...
And everything emptying into white
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Six O'clock
I heard the Ave Maria at six o'clock,
Today hear crimes on the radio at six o'clock.
I watched The Little Princess on tv at six o'clock,
Today watch explicit sex at six o’clock.
I was playing catch-up with my friends at six o'clock,
Today lonely children play atari at six o'clock.
I drank hot soup at six o’clock,
Today guys smoke crack at six o'clock.
I prayed to the guardian angel at six o'clock,
Today they kill people at six o'clock.
I studied algebra at six o'clock,
Today are planned crimes at six o'clock.
I was happy at six o'clock,
Today are all scared at six o'clock.
Parody in honor of Llorca
poem by Aschelminto Da Silva
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