By The Fires Of Hell
i kissed the cyanide lips,
of the god of my childhood.
walked the desolate streets,
strewn with human refuse and garbage.
under the heavy curse
of false morality and judgement.
to the edge of town,
where the hanging tree stood.
the sweat stained pits,
of bodies faceless and rotting.
a black and white movie,
dirge of the pilgrim.
walls made of wax,
and ideals with numb fingers.
church bells ringing,
forever just ringing!
why is it true souls are always homeless?
i hear the voices, i feel the weeping.
poverty breaks the glass,
and hunger melts the candle.
when sins become as real as death!
so who pays the price?
and who bears the load?
in the end we are always naked!
i wait beneath the tree,
by the shadow of the rope.
whose hands? my hands?
whose retribution? my guilt?
then soft as the wind,
and light formed from shadows...
i hear the voice of the Lover,
calling, from beyond the door!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Fogging Up The Windows
the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray
the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mind Like A Tree
Music :rudolf schenker, peter wolf
Lyrics:klaus meine
Come with me come with me now
Inside the garden
Inside the garden of god
Smell the sand its running through your hands
Its where were from
And where well go in the end
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
My mind is like a tree
And I want you to water me
You gotta spread the
You gotta spread the seed
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Sit in the shadow just smell the grass
Where the past is buried
Where the future grows so fast
My mind is like a tree
And I want you to water me
You gotta spread the
You gotta spread the seed
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
You touch me so
You touch me so deep
I only wish my eyes could see
The way you feel for me
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
My mind is like a tree
And I want you to water me
My mind is like a tree
And I want you to water me
You gotta spread the
You gotta spread the seed
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
Take my hand
Make me see
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Parable From Liebig
The church bells were ringing, the devil sat singing
On the stump of a rotting old tree;
'Oh faith it grows cold, and the creeds they grow old,
And the world is nigh ready for me.'
The bells went on ringing, a spirit came singing,
And smiled as he crumbled the tree;
'Yon wood does but perish new seedlings to cherish,
And the world is too live yet for thee.'
Eversley, 1848.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Bring The Dawn!
i am the page earmarked
by an angry god,
the end of tired thought,
the beginning of passion.
i am the spirit of fire,
setting buildings ablaze...
the bell ringing,
in the ancient tower.
i am the dark skinned lover,
who comes in the night.
the sharpened axe,
the hammer of dawn.
i am the eyes of hunger,
and the voice of need.
i am the weight of conscience,
the trench dug, and feet planted.
i am the smell of the heart,
you cant wash off your hands.
the phlegm of the homeless,
dried blood on the lips.
i am the flag of the faceless,
raised high and strong.
i am the bodies given
to build the bridge!
you can take me,
but you cant own me.
you can chain me,
but you cant stop me.
i am the changing seasons,
and the coming storm.
i am freedom, dammit!
hear my roar, bring the dawn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gortnamona
Long, long ago in the woods of Gortnamona,
I thought the birds were singing in the blackthorn tree;
But oh, it was my heart that was ringing, ringing, ringing,
With the joy that you were bringing, oh my love, to me
Long, long ago in the woods of Gortnamona,
I thought the wind was sighing round the blackthorn tree;
But oh, it was the banshee that was crying, crying, crying,
And I knew my love was dying far across the sea.
Now if you go through the woods of Gortnamona,
You hear the raindrops creeping through the blackthorn tree;
But oh, it is the tears I am weeping, weeping, weeping,
For the loved one that is sleeping far away from me.
poem by William Percy French
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Ring For Freedom
Let the bells ring for freedom
Let the bells ring out loud
And hope the people again will hear them
While answering back with a shout.
Let the bells begin their ringing
A ringing that will never end
And hope the people will hear our singing
Then from peace we will send.
Hope the bells will start their ringing
By ringing loud and singing long
Pray the people will sing and shout
And to that sound, a peaceful song.
Let the bells ring for freedom
Hope that ringing will never cease
I hope the people will hear them ringing
And all together in its peace.
Hand in hand and arm in arm
With smiles and laughs that stand together
Trouble nowhere and nowhere is there harm
Hope they will keep it from and and forever.
Let the bells all ring in rhyme
Now and forever to the end of time
A time to hold and a time to smile
To dream once again just like a child.
Let the bells ring for freedom
Now and forever for peace to send
Let the people hear them ringing
Hope that music will never end.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Bells In My Heart
I heard church bells ringing- ringing quite clear
I heard the church bells ringing- deafening my ears.
I looked all around and yet I could not see
Any places of worship even close to me.
That was when I realized that the ringing
Was coming from my heart.
Because it was you who captured it
Right from the start.
You entered my life like the earth enters
the day- and forever you would stay.
The bells are ringing with every passing
Thought of you, and it tells me all that I must do.
And to keep this love- to you I must be true.
I sometimes ask myself how can this be?
The bells toll louder every time you look at me.
Is this the way that love is really meant to be
That my heart is racing fast, and I feel wild and free.
We’ve all envisioned love and how it should be
But love is something you can not foresee.
Everyone sees love in a different way
And with your heart, love will play.
And love like a guitar that’s out of tune
You will lose it pretty soon.
So find the faults while you can
Tune that love and take your stand.
Now as I look at you I ask:
“Is this happening to only me
Or is our hearts singing in harmony”?
poem by Louis Rams
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The Bells Are Ringing
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round
They hear the instructions
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (they travel great distances to the sound)
They are persuaded by the music of the bells
Theyre not responsible for anything they do
(no) the people know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound
The bells are ringing
And everyones walking
With arms extended in a trance
Forgetting their washing
Neglecting the children
Theyre dropping all businesses at hand
A voice is telling them to act a different way
They tilt their heads so they wont miss what it will say
(no) and when its so
(no) theres this to know
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round
They hear the instructions
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound
They are persuaded by the music of the bells
Theyre not responsible for anything they do
(no) the people know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
A girl with cotton in her ears
Is shielded from the bells effect
As if by hidden signal
The people turn to face her
One thousand eyes are staring
They pull away her earplugs
The bells are pealing
And theyre revealing
The simple key to happiness
It isnt evil
It isnt good
Its only what the people miss
The bells explain what theyve been lacking all along
They were disorganized and that was what was wrong
(no) and now they know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
The bells are ringing (bringing the people round)
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
The bells are ringing (bringing the people round)
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (they travel great distances to the sound)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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16 Penny Nails!
strong harsh words,
16 penny nails driven
by a big hammer....
truth tears at the flesh
of the lie and the liar!
things arent pretty anymore.
hurt is real!
homeless is real!
jobless is real!
hunger is real!
the streets are real!
prison is real!
prejudice, oppression,
hatred, violence....
people used, and thrown away!
persecution... over religion,
over sexual choice,
over political viewpoints....
wars fought over oil fields,
riot squads beating peaceful protestors...
women losing the rights
to their own bodies....
lonliness, suicide, drug addiction....
a harsh picture, faces put on bodies....
and yet beneath it all
there still lies a beauty...
all human beings, all human beings,
made in the image of God!
how can we not respect each other?
and how can we overlook....
the value of life?
with trembling hands wiping away
the blood, sweat, and urine of life...
trembling hands that when joined
become the hands of prayer!
16 penny nails, with heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Too Mourn The Dead!
i too mourn the dead...
the victims of bullets,
preordained by message.
the blown and splintered bodies,
strewn in nameless disarray.
the guilt pills of generals,
swallowed with patriotic vodka.
but too the carcass of the dog,
blindsided by the truck.
and the small bird beneath the tree,
whose wings froze and failed.
the stray cow that fell,
and couldnt get up.
the tree cut and felled,
to widen the road.
the mountain blown asunder,
to make way for progress.
the thousands of fishes,
choking to death on oil.
the river stopped and stagnant,
filled with raw sewage....
the young boy's body hanging,
at the edge of bullied taunts.
the girl on the corner,
selling her body for a rock
the businessman dying,
with every numb decision.
the body of the old woman,
barely breathing in a bare room.
the child sick and shaking,
dying of hunger...
the baby in the dumpster,
nothing else needs said...
and the apathetic faceless mouths,
devouring the poor....
i too mourn the dead, and the dying...
and see their faces,
in the palm of my hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Hear....
i hear the cry of a thousand naked voices.
i hear the sound of the turning wheels.
i hear the guns, and the moment after,
i hear the blood of bodies in the fields.
i hear the cry of babies without mothers,
i hear the hunger of faces without names.
i hear the whisper of god in the homeless,
the hearts of the poor in the falling rain.
i hear the truth beyond all lies,
i hear the hand that takes another.
i hear justice's cry for deliverance,
and the prayer of the stranger that is my brother.
i hear the hammer and wings of freedom,
i hear equality chanted and sang.
i hear the beat of life calling forward,
to dare, to give, tis not in vain!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Fire Of Redemption
i am a dissident,
a fugitive, a renegade,
condemned by apathy as subversive.
i am an individual,
a burning bush,
a fire in the night.
i am a homeless star
in a sky gone black,
the mouth and face of hunger.
i am passion's anger,
and compassion's hands,
i am a man and not a body.
i am a spiritual heretic,
a relic from a time
when the spirit was the cause.
i am a bridge, a pair of shoes,
a jug that holds water.
i am the seeds, the sower,
the rain and the sun.
i am the common dance,
the holy sweat,
i am hard work and erection.
i am the prayer prayed
by the side of the road,
the father's firmness,
and the mother's breasts.
i am sickness and death,
the price of years,
i am simple resurrection.
i am the lover unchained,
the wind that breaks the door,
the rain that falls in the naked night.
i am the voice behind silence,
the shout of the snow.
i am birth and beginning,
i am the fire of redemption!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The big tree
Lets make a tree house for ourselves,
I can remember the words of my love,
Piling up fine wood with your soft hands,
I can see the visions of my love, .
I remember the hanging ropes,
Climbing the tree and tightening them,
It was a tree that we made our tree,
Tears role down my cheeks standing before it,
The footprints of a lost lover I see, .
Your imprints brings sorrow to me,
The tree brings me memories
The swings we made there my love,
Playing while hoping for tomorrow,
Remember the marriage we planned,
The wedding we admired,
And children we debated about,
You said three and i said two,
It was under the tree,
And ended under the tree,
Death took you by surprise,
My hopes so long gone,
My wishes drained into mystry,
Im all alone, with the tree, our tree
You have gone my love,
I wanted to marry you,
I wanted us to grow together,
With our tree, the big tree,
The swings are empty,
The tree house so desolate,
Im missing you.......
This tree shall be symbolic to us,
Us, , , the us that will never be,
As seasons shall surely change and pass,
The tree shall die also,
And will be left all alone, ,
Of course, in solitude
Im missing you
poem by Sir Gaylord Munemo
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Half Drunk In Jesus Town
church bells ringing
down by the mission
walking these streets again
down by the old feed store,
and the row of empty buildings,
listening to the ghosts of the past.
the railroad tracks stand silent,
that old train dont run anymore.
here and there people walking,
aint nobody talking,
stray dogs and broken bottles,
stopped to light one last cigarette.
i can still hear my mother calling,
can still see my daddy's tired eyes,
can still hear the preacher, and
them old songs
but you cant take me down
to the water anymore.
old signs falling in the wind
take one last draw from the bottle
cant bring back what you never had
half drunk in Jesus town.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Weddin' Bells
I have the invitation that you sent me
You wanted me to see you change your name
I couldn't stand to see you wed another
But dear I hope you're happy just the same
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
That should be ringing out for you and me
Down the aisle with someone else you're walking
Those wedding bell will never ring for me
I planned a little cottage in the valley
I even bought a little band of gold
I thought some day I'd place it on your finger
But now the future looks so dark and cold
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
I hear the children laughing out with glee
At home alone I hang my head in sorrow
Those wedding bells will never ring for me
I fancy that I see a bunch of roses
A blossom from an orange tree in your hair
And while the organ plays I love you truly
Please let me pretend that I am there
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
Ever since the day you set me free
I knew someday that you would wed another
But wedding bells will never ring for me
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Bears The Guilt.... (In The End)
i close my eyes and go back...
sixties angry churning deep south,
to the old oak tree in the clearing.
where two bodies hung side by side;
one young black man, local,
one young jewish man,
who came from the north to protest.
both stripped naked, badly beaten,
whose sins did they die for?
black and white Jesus's,
neath a guilt ridden limb...
whose crown of thorns?
and who will roll away the stone?
45 years later,
a couple lines in the news.
a young gay man hanging from a rafter.
the victim of bullying and discrimination.
will we never learn?
how many Jesus's?
how many crosses?
in the end... who bears the guilt?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hallucinations
Night has fallen, although
Midnight hours are never strange, and
When rain or snow,
Sometimes is
Heavily falling, though these sounds I cannot hear.
Somehow
It was just another night,
Another day, or
Another minute
Just as yesterday has
Slipped through the crack
Beneath my bedroom door,
Locked, dead bolted and keyed,
I cannot remember if I kept that key, or if the
Rain or snow has come between the world outside and myself?
A song was once written just for me
I could hear the first few words but
Its melody was arrested when somebody in my mind suddenly
Wants me to die as
That song becomes so strangely frightening?
Bells are ringing,
Some shadowy being is standing by my bedside, and
Time has slipped away from me once more through that
Crack beneath my bedroom door.
I just heard the first few words to my favorite song,
Voices tell me I am none but beautiful while that
Rain keeps tap-dancing upon my windowsill.
A shadowy and threatening figure is still lurking above my bed.
That voice inside my mind wants me to die and another is
Telling me I am none but beautiful,
A few more words from my favorite song have just been sung.
I believe I that people are out there wishing me ill-fate, that
Roses grow in the wintertime and
I am swimming in a whirlpool of confusion
Of what is real and what is not?
A few more words from my favorite song, and
Bells keep chiming and I just heard another voice calling my name-
In all fairness, I must confess that
Even though somebody in my mind would like for me to die, and only I can hear those
Ringing bells and songs sung to me,
That melody has been arrested
Suddenly-
Only because I realize now that it is a dance
Choreographed for me alone and
Even if it is a tragic musical
I am in a safer place than outside my door
There is a world out there and
It can rain and it can snow and
Cars can splash through water as they drive by my window and
Every day I spend out there
Is more of a nightmare than
The saddest tune my thoughts can play,
Voices that wish for me to die,
Demonic dances or dark figures lurking above my bed
Will never harm me as much as
What goes on outside my window every day, or as
Going to work or living a life in a very ordinary way, and besides-
I just heard that voice inside my head
Telling me once more that
I am none but beautiful…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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I Sit Beneath This Tree
I sit beneath this tree,
Bared beneath the moon,
I'm touched by it's coolness,
I'm loved by it's light,
I sit beneath the tree,
The world can see my scars,
The hollow where my heart layed,
And where my soul escaped,
Then in my hand the dagger,
In your hands my heart,
As it quickly slows,
The necklace round my throat,
Slowly drips down my chest,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you hold onto my hand,
My soul it tries to fly,
With wongs broken from guilt,
I sit upon the earth,
As you hold my hands and plea,
Plea for my forgiveness,
Before the darkness takes control,
Plea for my love,
Before I journey to my grave,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you pain my death,
With your guilt and no forgiveness,
I sit beneath this tree,
As my soul it walks away,
Towards loved gates of Hell.
poem by Holly Heron
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Wedding Bells
I have the invitation that you sent me
You wanted me to see you change your name
I couldnt stand to see you with another
But dear I hope youre happy just the same
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
That should be ringing out for you and me
Down the aisle with someone else youre walking
Those wedding bell will never ring for me
I planned a little cottage in the valley
I even bought a little band of gold
I thought some day Id place it on your finger
But now the future looks so dark and cold
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
I hear the children laughing out with glee
At home alone I hang my head in sorrow
Those wedding bells will never ring for me
I fancy that I see a bunch of roses
A blossom from an orange tree in your hair
And while the organ plays I love you truly
Please let me pretend that I am there
Wedding bells are ringing in the chapel
Ever since the dat you set me free
I know someday that you are with another
But wedding bells will never ring for me
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am.... (Falcon)
i am...
the lament of oceans,
grieving lost children.
the latent sound of artillery,
mother and son huddled.
i am women oppressed,
sold into slavery.
i am the crack in the window,
through which freedom stares.
i am black skin white skin
drenched in blood,
i am sweat and toil,
fields swept by heat.
i am the american poet,
who learned his craft in sawmills...
built houses by hand,
and grew his own food.
i am pigs and chickens,
slaughtered in cells.
i am pride in prison,
and self education.
i am the grandfather weeping
over a picture of his grandson.
i am the price of justice,
names spent and forgotten.
i am the lover stalking,
the shadows of night empty.
i am the fire and the cross,
the curse and the cost.
i am mistakes and failures,
i am guts and desire.
i am balls and fury,
gentleness and understanding...
i am the prodigal son,
my mother is the wind.
i am the fighter
who stayed too long...
i am the pilgrim naked,
the owl in the night.
i am jesus and buddha
weeping over hitler's grave.
i am the victims of holocaust,
the victims of everyday choices.
i am the immoral saint,
and the renegade monk.
i am the lie of america,
yet the truth and the hope.
i am the murderer and the murdered,
and the child abused.
i am the promised land,
and the walls of jericho.
i am the reservation,
bad whiskey and poverty.
i am custer sent to
vietnam, iraq, and afghanistan.
i am the tears of crazy horse,
and the death of the earth...
i am sackcloth and ashes,
and the sin of blindness.
i am heat and desire,
i am hunger and want.
i am the heart beating,
defying all odds.
i am the falcon,
the wolf, and the turtle...
i am the kiss
that turns shadows to light!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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