Empty Boxes
woke up to Voltaire
and Tolstoy, black coffee,
and cigarettes....
heavy fog on a crooked road,
Christmas lights blinking,
and a dead stillness....
the moan of empty houses,
empty factories, empty streets,
and the whisper of children,
food stamps hung in their stockings!
an old stray cat waiting to be fed,
and the heaviness of the mongrels,
left to work the streets.
somewhere bells are ringing,
right here not the scent;
a cross painted on a brick wall,
empty boxes blown by the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Empty Sky
I woke up this morning
I could barely breathe
Just an empty impression
In the bed there you used to be
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Blood on the streets
Blood flowin down
I hear the blood of my blood
Cryin from the ground
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
On the plains of jordan
I cut my bow from the wood
Of this tree of evil
Of this tree of good
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to the empty sky
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Old Houses
Empty Old Houses
Empty old houses can talk…
But one must know how to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses have stories…
But one must be eager to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses can suffer..
But one must have empathy …
To feel it
Empty old houses can feel pain
But one must be able to bear it …
To feel it
Empty old houses have memories
But one must believe … that they have…
To share them
Empty old houses contain people’s lives
But one must believe…that they do…
To share them
Empty old houses can seem dead and deserted
But one must know that they’re not..
To know them
Empty old houses can teem with life’s pleasures
But one must walk through
to sense the aura of life
Empty old houses abound in life’s treasures
But one cannot help but…
To admire them
poem by David Whalen
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The Downtown Lights
Sometimes I walk away
When all I really wanna do
Is love and hold you right
There is just one thing I can say
It's all right, can't you see
The downtown lights
In love we're all the same
We're walking down an empty street
And with nobody callin' your name
Empty streets, empty nights
The downtown lights
*How do I know you feel it
How do I know you feel it
How do I know you feel it
How do I know it's true
Can't you see
Nobody loves you this way
It's all right
Tonight and every night
Let's go walking down the city streets
Let's walk in the cool evening light
Wrong or right, the endless sight
The downtown lights
It will be all right
It will be all right
The downtown lights
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(*Repeat)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Downtown lights
The neons and the cigarettes
The rented rooms and rented cars
The crowded streets, the empty bars
Chimneytops, trumpets
The golden lights, the loving prayers
Colored shoes, the empty trains
I'm tired of cryin' on the stairs
Downtown lights
It'll be all right
It'll be all right
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Eve
dawn creeping
o'er the mountains,
and through bare limbed trees....
Christmas Eve...
amid the hustle and bustle,
colored lights and wrapping paper....
families and friends....
the streets still alive with those
who have nowhere else to be....
empty houses, empty trailers,
stray dogs and abandoned cars....
somewhere church bells are ringing.
a baby born in a bare apartment,
the rats scurry to meet him,
the pot on the stove empty.
no curtains on the windows,
bare bulbs, no shades.
no angels, no wise men,
an eviction notice on the door...
yet another baby Jesus,
will he make it, will he die?
will he bring light and salvation?
or will they find his small body
in a dumpster with the trash?
fate, or understanding,
holiness knocks on the door,
again, and again!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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On The Road To Gethsemane
on the road to Gethsemane...
i pass burned out buildings,
farm lands scorched by the bombing.
i pass the skeleton bodies
of young children who starved.
i pass the unmarked graves,
of young boys sent to war.
i pass the flag of the liars,
and the tents of mourning.
i pass vacant factories,
and houses left empty.
i pass through cocaine streets,
where all flesh is for sale.
i pass the unemployed masses,
and their desperate eyes.
i pass the baby born unwanted,
and the prison's stink.
i pass empty churches,
and hollow ringing bells.
i pass families broken,
and peoples enslaved.
i pass the moral guns of prejudice,
rank with immorality!
i pass the crippled, the sick,
and those desperately alone...
these tears of blood
are human tears,
this cross we all bear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Vacancy, For Rent
walking the streets
of a small southern town...
empty buildings, empty houses,
'vacancy, for rent'
no one moving much,
even the church parking lots
are empty.... seems like
Jesus and His disciples
packed up, and moved on...
probably looking for work!
only a sense of quiet despair,
the sound of old cars rusting,
and the howling of a dog.
just read the news:
an elderly couple, married
67 years, murder suicide...
he'd been sick, she had
alzheimer's.... afraid there'd
be no one to take care of her...
another unmarked grave,
forgotten people, abandoned
by their own government.....
another empty house that
used to be a home...
'vacancy, for rent.'
just walking the streets
of a small southern town...
church bells are ringing...
and the smell of death
hangs in the air!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sudden Sureness!
the bullets
in your hands
are the jobs,
houses, and families,
lost to the mouth
that devours....
the dreams burning
like trash on the side
of the road....
the fields empty, turning brown.
cities of ghosts,
empty buildings to streets,
streets that kill with sudden sureness,
leaving no trace,
and no memories!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Days of Darkness
Rats
In their thousands
creeping over the desolate land
scouring for food - for life
The stench was sickening
The sky black, thickening
so no light passed through
Ants
In their millions
crawling through the empty houses
looking for crumbs - anything
dead bodies all over
or writhing in pain
as the skies darken again
Humans
In their hundreds
Staggering through the empty streets
In their hunt for companionship - and food
cursing their predators
Dead or dying from pain
As the whole earth dies.
1979
poem by Penni Currie
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dead Poets
dead poets; old cars
junked in heaps
in front of
abandoned houses...
empty mailboxes
rusting to the
ground...
empty swings creaking
in the late evening breeze;
a bottle of wine,
half-empty,
moans in the shadows.
the fields have been picked,
nothing left, but sweat stained dirt....
even the embers have grown cold,
and the pot is empty.
the sounds and smells of living
linger by unmarked stones...
dead poets; old cars...
running on empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty Hands
He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money
But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands
In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disciplined
like a disciplined cat
he sits on the chair
on a motionless scale
staring at an empty
breakfast table
an empty cup
an empty bowl
on those empty hours
she expects him to say
meow
but he didn't
in an hour he left and
tells the wind about it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lonesome Farewell...
lonesome farewell...
wind blown dust,
cardboard boxes in the rain.
the doorknob broken,
the window nailed shut.
empty fields, briars and thorns.
a dead rabbit rotting
on the side of the road.
signs falling down,
tree limbs on the ground.
silence screams, waves of grief!
the smell of want, forgotten lips.
words cling like cobwebs
to the empty walls...
where are you now?
where are you now?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty Streets
The town is quiet, empty
Street lights cast shadows
In doorways and windows
Curtains drawn, people sleeping
A night rain is falling fast
Through the amber halos of street lights
Lighting the roads and pathways
There is not a soul to be seen or heard
The parked cars line up colourless
The dull reflection of a shop window
Offers little comfort in passing
A stray cat sits ahead in some shade
Staring intent before running away
Into the empty night gone
What little wind there is, cold
A car passes, unknown passengers
The temporary warming light
Soon gone disappeared
Hand fishing for keys in pockets
Through a door into shade
The empty streets replaced
poem by Matthew Holloway
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I Am (Continued)
i am, become...
i am the lonesome wail
of streets gone empty,
of factories deserted,
of shops closed down.
i am the abortion clinic bombed
by the right wing fanatic,
and the baby left with a baby
that she cannot raise.
i am the food pantry,
the mission, the soup line...
my faces used to be your neighbors.
i am the tractor rusted in the snow,
the well gone dry...
i am the young gay couple
wanting so much to marry,
i am the fundamentalist afraid
of anything i dont understand.
i am the heroin addict
on the endless stoop,
i am the black child growing up
in a neighborhood terrorized.
i am the immigrant looking for work,
i am the crops left rotting in the fields...
i am the bedpan changer, the floor sweeper,
and the emergency room nurse...
i am the single mom,
food stamps, and no work...
the young man who drives
the old woman out to vote.
i am the balled up fist,
the set lip, the phallic rose...
i am America exploding!
i am, become...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Empty time, empty place. Empty heart, empty space.
Empty time, empty place.
Empty heart, empty space.
Give a little, fight a war
Take a lot, there is more.
Left to die, all alone.
Blackened sins to atone.
In a place by a stream,
in a dark, empty dream.
In a room candles glow.
Truth prevails if you know.
Something sweet and something blue.
Something with a natural hue.
The Insecurities Of Aging...
the more you age
the more you keep things to yourself
old and new socks are mixed up in one wooden cabinet
somehow you are not using any
it is just the keeping for keeping sake
you are not thinking of any heir of any shoe
you begin to emphasize the importance of empty containers
how each must be filled
an empty cup must have coffee to its brim
an empty room must have someone to talk to
and empty road shall have at least one car making a dusty path
the empty stairs are too fearful to look at
how you hate an empty chair
it can make you sick if no one sits in there in another hour
the hours can be empty too
how can you stop the arms of the clock from taking away the sound
of ticking?
you are sensing a terminal
the train must be full so that you can never experience the
palpitations of being alone
you can hear it like the sounds of korean drums
the cascading waterfalls
the horns of taxis in city traffic
do not dare to stop the inevitable
i assure you... you can't. So? get yourself attuned
have an empty cup and learn to drink from it
you must feign the satisfaction of thirst, because
it can't be long.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Homelessness In Winter
back about 30 years ago,
living on the streets in Charlotte...
finally found a job... was lucky enough
to have a place to take a shower...
sleeping in the backseat of a broke
down Ford Maverick... cold winter...
got up and walked 4 miles to work
every morning,4 miles 'home' in the
evening...
went on for a couple months before
i got a place to live...
so yes i know what homelessness
feels like...and i cant help thinking
about all the empty foreclosed houses....
empty houses, homeless people....
back then, even if you couldnt find a
real job, they had a place where you
could go and line up to do day work...
worked all day for about 25 dollars...
if you couldnt do that, you could always
sell blood.... i dont know what they do
now....i just know it's a hard life...and if
you've got family, got kids...
something to think about the next time
you see a homeless person walking the
streets!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I am Empty, But Not my cocoon where I wait for Metamorphosis!
I am empty hibernated mind,
but not my cocoon,
In which I sleep waiting for
metamorphosis,
Waiting for coloured wings to
appear! Mind that looks empty,
not at all empty at any point of
time,
How can it be empty,
When my beloved keeps on
pouring wisdom, fills my heart with love
continuously,
Unless I empty it at same rate,
Distribute and spread,
Love will get overflowed,
May get spilled and flow,
Flow like stream, used up by or someone pollute with doubts,
Whereafter love needs recycling,
several process of purification!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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