Equally Holy....
there is no difference,
in the man painting the walls
of the chapel,
and the homeless man pissing
in the alley...
in the Madonna,
and the young woman
giving birth on the floor
of a welfare apartment.
in the Buddha,
and the child starving
to death in a third world country...
in the doctor saving lives,
and the addict on the street.
in the peacemaker,
and the soldier afraid on the battlefield...
in the leader, the priest, and the whore.
in black or white, and the illegal immigrant.
all are equally holy!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Madonna Whore
What are you thinking when you're looking at me
What can you tell me of reality?
I'm only woman... not just a Fantasy
and the flesh and blood is warmer than some color transparency
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try to reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
What are you thinking when you push me away
Was it some promise in your youth you made?
Holding out for something or hoping to be saved
Does it make you feel power or are you just afraid of me?
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try to reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
I don't know
if you say so
got so many do's and don'ts my head is spinning
Hey Romeo, j-j-j-just let get go
maybe everything could use a little sinning
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try and reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try and reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
You can try to reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am.... (Hand Of Silence)
i am the fire raging out of control,
the blade of the shadow on poverty's neck.
the broken sound when no one can hear,
the cold feel of the gallows,
the wings of the dead bird.
i am the raccoon trapped,
and the fury of loss.
i am the waiting that kills,
moment by moment.
i am the hand too tired to touch,
the baby just born that no one wants.
i am the ribs showing on the starving child,
the refugee fleeing with nowhere to go.
the smell of despair at the county dump,
the apartment without curtains or furniture.
i am the soldier killed who hesitated with conscience.
i am the prisoner afraid of both detention and freedom.
the young gay teenager who hangs himself,
the pregnant girl who takes too many pills.
i am the protester beaten and left on the sidewalk,
the old man alone without food or heat.
i am the touch of Jesus in the addict's eyes,
the street bum sleeping in the alley.
i am the farmer whose farm was taken,
the family left without a home.
the 40 year worker in the unemployment line,
the young girl taken and sold as a whore.
i am the Buddhist monk who sets himself on fire,
the rebel imprisoned for speaking the truth.
i am the millions of young who cant afford school,
the millions of workers who cant afford insurance.
i am the immigrant deported,
whose family has no chance.
the young mother caught stealing food.
i am the morals hidden by despair and anger,
the conscience of the poor holding the gun.
i am the color of skin covered with blood,
the face of god in strays of all kinds.
i am the Buddha weeping,
the body of suffering....
the hand of silence covering the grave.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From The Jesus Papers....
the question we have to ask ourselves
is whether Jesus would be a member of the present
Christian church?
would He choose to be American?
or would He walk the starving roads of Africa?
would He flee with the women and children
in the countries bombed?
would He be a political force,
or a political dissident?
would He be a capitalist, a socialist, or an anarchist?
would He self immoliate with the Tibetan monks
in the name of freedom?
would He carry the bodies out of the mines?
would He hold the addict's hands?
would He call capital punishment justice, or murder?
would He turn His back on the poor, the homeless, and the jobless?
would He be white, black, or brown?
would He condemn? or walk in compassion?
would He hate Muslims, Buddhists, and atheists?
would He be a patriot, or a rebel?
would you let Him in your house?
would He be an illegal immigrant?
would He throw the money changers out of Wall Street?
out of Washington? out of the church?
would you Know Him if you met Him?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All The Same!
i am the illegal immigrant,
picking your fruit.
while my children are hungry,
and my wife scrubs your floors.
the young black man in your prison,
the anger of the poor.
i am the books,
you forbid us to read.
i am the Vietnamese family,
whose children speak english.
the young Sioux poet,
whose words sound like tears.
i am the white man's reservation,
and the white man's god....
the sound of the gas pump,
the feet of soldiers marching to death.
i am the grandson of the miner,
who never came out.
the body of the union organizer,
buried beneath rubble.
i am the picket line,
the cold floor of the cell.
i am the old woman who died,
alone in her nursing home bed.
the sound of the church bells,
on midnight's empty streets.
i am the needle and the crack pipe,
the sound of the window breaking.
i am the whistle of the train,
so near and so far.
i am the child adopted,
by two women in love.
i am the mission, the soup line,
and the shelter....
the body in the alley,
and no one cares.
i am the song of America,
i am the wind of freedom.
i am the torch of justice,
the bridge that has no name.
i am the god of many colors,
and all the same!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Anybody's Idea Of Eternity!
i'd rather be a leaf torn
by a sparrow's beak...
a snail, a moth, the spider's web.
the old man passing out blankets
at the homeless shelter...
the mother nursing the child,
refugees of war.
the old dog curled against
the old man's leg...
the cigarette shared after making love.
a trash collector, a cashier in an all night store,
an immigrant picking fruit
with eyes in the back of his head....
the soldier who deserted,
and turned his back on the war.
the lover left with the scent of memory.
the young girl giving birth
on a bare apartment floor,
a rose petal wilted,
falling to the ground....
the last wolf wandering the endless night.
a spoke in the wheel of the wagon loaded.
the love letter written never delivered...
a pair of old boots standing in the corner,
a rain dropp lingering on a blade of grass...
then to be an angel playing a harp,
in anybody's idea of eternity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soldier's Ghost
I bled for you - would you for me?
I blessed a skin in blazing fuel
Then took a bullet in a duel of
‘He or I to Die.'
I often question ‘Why? '
Do you?
My country was my life to give -
Would you for country cease to live?
Sinking in a mire of death,
You have no choice -
So while you're still alive,
Rejoice!
I cried in failure - did you care?
And as I waned, were you aware of
What I did -?
Fighting for my country while you hid
Behind your comfort back at home?
Still relaxed?
My wife and child are fading at the tomb.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier soldier soldier war
Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier Soldier
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
war war war war war war war war war war war war
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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White Republican Male Jesus?
White Republican Male Jesus?
what about...
black Jesus, brown Jesus,
Asian Jesus, atheist Jesus,
female Jesus, poor Jesus,
jobless Jesus, prison Jesus,
homeless Jesus, illegal immigrant Jesus?
dog Jesus, cat Jesus,
baby in a dumpster Jesus,
addict Jesus, old Jesus?
gay Jesus, union Jesus,
hungry Jesus, foreign Jesus?
bumming a cup of coffee Jesus?
brother Jesus, sister Jesus?
just bombed Jesus,
food stamp Jesus?
how many bodies? how many crosses?
you tell me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peacemaker Die
Peacemaker die,
Mr. righteous one
You say you have this plan?
If we care to understand
Peacemaker die,
Mr. nice guy
You dare to speak the truth?
Ill twist and turn it into lies
Blessed are the warmongers,
Blessed are the warmongers
For they shall be called,
Man-made gods
Peacemaker die,
Peacemaker die,
Peacemaker die,
I dont know why?
Peacemaker die,
Peacemaker die,
Peacemaker die,
Peacemaker die,
Peacemaker die,
I dont know why?
Peacemaker die,
Mr. goody two
Do you really thing the world
Can be black, white, and jew?
Peacemaker die,
Mr. music man
Dont turn your back on me?
Cause Im the one with the gun
Blessed are the warmongers,
Blessed are the warmongers,
For they shall be called,
Sons of god
I have a dream this afternoon,
That the brotherhood of man,
Will become a reality
In this day, with this faith,
I will go out and,
Carve the tunnel of hope,
Through the mountain of despair
With this faith,
I will go out with you and,
Transform dark yesterdays
Into bright tomorrows
With this faith,
We will be able to achieve
This new day
When all of gods children,
Black men and white men,
Jews and gentiles,
Protestants and catholics
Will be able to join hands
And sing with the negroes,
In the spiritual of old
Free at last, free at last,
Thank God almighty,
Were free at last.
Mine
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am # 2
i am, become...
i am the poet, the prophet,
the clown, the fool...
the old man running the pawn shop,
the teacher who tries but cant seem...
the whore working her corner,
the policeman walking his beat,
the old woman shivering under her quilt,
who cant pay for heat!
the murderer, the dealer,
the victim, the prisoner...
the soldier come home to no home,
the farmer whose farm foreclosed.
i am the bow, the arrow,
the hammer, the nail...
the sacred relic, the condom,
the head on the platter.
the street preacher, the pagan priest,
you'd burn at your stake!
the homeless man in the alley,
the match, and the fire.
i am the protester beaten,
the union organizer, the march.
i am America come howling,
i am, become...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every unskilled illegal immigrant who enters the United States for work drives up healthcare costs for every American. And, every illegal immigrant we turn a blind eye toward weakens the rule of law our country is founded on.
quote by Elton Gallegly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am... (Tongue)
i am...
the tongue that sleeps inside the mouth.
the erection that falls on darkened alone.
the crack of thunder over distant hills.
the simple prayer of a child in need.
the whore, the thief, and the addict.
the liar who leads running from himself.
the young girl sold in the cattle stalls.
the shot fired before guilt could breathe.
the hammer, the nails, and hands that know.
the woman giving birth, her screams, her desire.
the fallen priest, and the migrant worker.
the truck loaded with a lifetime's ghosts.
the father, the mother, and the empty house.
the well run dry, the roof that leaks.
the willow tree, and the mockingbird.
the citizens killed by the armed squad.
the activist buried without a word.
the woman strong, the man bent and broken.
the tears of an unknown god
falling on the earth scorched and smoking!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Candle
if we lit a candle tonite
for every child that's hungry,
for every family that's homeless,
for every drug addict without hope,
for every soldier fighting
in an unholy war
for every immigrant
fighting for a chance,
for every prisoner
that becomes a victim
of the system.
for every victim
of violent crimes.
for every husband and wife
who cant find their way,
and give up and walk away.
for every child with a disability
that doesnt get a fair chance.
for every child that grows up
without a father or mother.
for every person who feels
deserted by God.
for every person afraid
to be who they are
for every victim of prejudice,
whether it be racial, religious,
or sexual.
for every person alone,
without hope or direction.
we'd have a fire so bright
it'd light the universe.
the fire of compassion.
warming the feet of humanity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give God A Ride!
we have spent centuries
running from gods,
and making sacrifices
to our own fears!
afraid of death,
and so afraid to live,
we race maddened to the flame.
trying to conceive
an ideal, afraid
to see, to touch,
the reality before us!
god looks alot like
the people we're bombing,
smells like the homeless man
in the alley,
weeps with the hungry
into an empty bowl!
you want to touch the sacred?
touch the stranger,
the orphaned child,
the addict and the prisoner...
the one you bury,
the ones you send to war.
take a deep breath,
you can smell the desire...
of the lover, the planter,
the poet, and the thief!
stop, and give god a ride,
even better, an ear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Not All
mountain...
hawk,
tree,
newborn child,
dying old man,
fire in a clearing,
moonlight reflected through a window....
the prisoner,
a vagrant man,
the immigrant crossing the border....
the young woman giving birth,
starlight on wet grasses,
the prisoner walking
to his own execution....
an agnostic,
a heretic,
and a pilgrim....
a child of god,
a child of darkness....
which am i?
if not all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Responsible.... (Poet's Heart)
i am responsible....
for the child dying of starvation,
whatever color, whatever country.
for the young Muslim child alone,
his family killed by the bombs.
for the addict shaking on the street corner,
for the young girl selling her body
on that same corner.
for the family kicked out of their house,
who have nowhere to go.
for the young angry men in prison,
for the victims of the crimes.
for the stink of poverty,
and the abuse of wealth.
for the planes, the bombs,
the guns and the flags...
for the political prisoners who spoke out.
for the elderly going without food and lights,
trying to pay for their medicine.
for the victims of racism and prejudice,
and those that wave that banner.
for the preacher, the thief,
the murderer, and the lost....
for the woman treated as less.
for the young man who commits suicide,
and for those that caused his desperation.
for the immigrant killed crossing the border,
hoping against hope for his family.
for the 'moral' who cant feel,
for those who feel, those who suffer.
for the bones of those we've killed
on our journey to civilization.
for the Jew, the Christian,
the Hindu, the Muslim, and the Buddhist...
of equal worth and value.
for the atheist, the doubter, the searcher,
and those who question all.
for the man, the woman, and the child.
for the sins of the past,
and the path to the future.
i am responsible...
because i am human!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Child Of The Damned
[ warlord cover ]
You made me see right past myself, well beyond
My fears, realized Im synchronized, far beyond my years
Im so geard unto them, I serve unto their souls
Now that Im addicted, my hunger only grows
Im a child of the damned, I follow where I go
Rigging to the cross, as holy as a whore
Im just a child of the damned
Witches coven, the time has come for those sabbatical
Years, revelation is the message, for all in all to hear
Prophets slayed, mankind arrayed into mass submission
Evils here, the lord of hell gives you the proposition
Im a child of the damned, I follow where I go
Rigging to the cross, as holy as a whore
Im just a child of the damned
Give away your life goals, your meaning and ambition
It means nothing to you, after all its superstition
Do not be afraid, the world is near the end
Is it better to rule in hell, than it is to serve in heaven?
Im a child of the damned, I follow where I go
Rigging to the cross, as holy as a whore
Im just a child of the damned
[ warlord cover ]
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Immigrant Here!
i am an immigrant here,
i claim no nation,
choose no side...
but this earth is my home,
formed from it's dirt,
it's bottomless oceans...
my friends are trees,
mountains, and rivers...
the long grasses my beard,
the great plains my soul.
i am the birthing of spring,
the death of the snow...
i am an immigrant here,
many colors, all human.
i am the hunted, and the hunter,
i am the pounding of waves
held in the tiniest shell.
i am wind, fire, and darkness...
i am an immigrant here,
i am the plow of the man,
the valley of the woman.
i am the roar of the cities,
the hush of the forests...
i am the water spilling o'er the dam!
i am an immigrant here,
illegal only to those who fear!
the river i crossed,
i will cross again!
my only map the lines
in an old man's hands!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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O My Soul...
where have you gone,
o my soul...
where have you gone?
are you lost in the tears
of a thousand faces
blackened by hunger?
in the cries of the dying?
of the homeless?
in the defiant feet
of those standing in line?
the unemployment line?
the soup line?
the line just outside
the prison walls?
in the lover left desperate,
who takes his own life?
in the students beaten,
who stood up for freedom?
in the young man hated,
for the color of his skin?
in the young woman sold
on the lonesome street corner?
in the windowless offices
where lives and deaths are decided?
in the hole behind the gun,
eyes hard as steel?
in the bare apartment,
where the children are cold and hungry?
on the corner, 'neath the bridge,
in the back of the car?
where have you gone,
o my soul...
where have you gone?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Dont Even Know Their Names!
his spirit left his body,
and walked through the hells.
a firm voice spoke:
'keep your eyes open,
look, and see! '
he saw dark skinned children,
their bodies frail and thin,
their features carved with hunger.
he saw women and children,
running from the bombs,
young men gunned down,
in the streets.
he saw the homeless family,
sleeping in a beaten old car,
hoping no one would come
to make them move.
he saw the young addict shaking,
the young woman helpless,
her baby crying in the bare apartment.
he saw the young man sent to prison,
trying to hide his fear,
a fear so strong they
could smell it on him!
he saw the woman who'd been beaten,
the man jobless and angry.
he saw millions of Native Americans,
slaughtered, and left for the crows.
he saw the old couple hungry,
in their apartment with no lights,
and no heat in the dead of winter...
'i cant take it any more,
what has this got to do with me?
i dont even know their names! '
'their names are anybody, and everybody...
they are why you must return.
they are your children, your
brothers and sisters, your father
and your mother...
they are your responsibility!
you must return to finish the work! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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