God, I Know Mine Do!
perhaps the lips of god tremble....
with the death of every child out of season.
with the padlock on the door of the foreclosed house,
with the bullied child hanging in the closet.
with every call to war and flag that's raised,
with the bare feet of the poverty dwellings.
with the unemployed man making bathtub met,
the girl trading sex for a high...
with every affluent sneer,
and every indifferent stare.
with every tree cut for no reason,
and every tanker spilling oil.
with every dog taken to the pound,
with every racial slur.
with every elderly person left to eat dogfood,
with every unmarked grave.
with every moment of religious pretense,
with every shirt made in a sweatshop.
with every illegal immigrant shot and killed,
with every tick of the clock in an empty room.
with every tear shed by the lonely,
with every act of discrimination.
with every state sponsored execution,
with every woman denied medical care.
with every child born and orphaned,
with every woman beaten and abused....
perhaps the lips of god tremble....
god, i know mine do!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Child Woman, Woman Child
Orbison/dees
Coo coo, thats you, wonder why I love you, you do voodoo, thunder clouds above you
Crazy, kooky, lazy spooky, oh what a clown, always around
And I have found youre a woman. child woman. woman child
Long legged woman when I see you walking you look good
Hey little woman when I hear you talking you sound good
Child woman, woman child youre driving me wild child woman woman child
Youre into my mind then youre out of my mind child woman
You wind and unwind my mind, time after time child woman ooh child woman, yeah child woman
Flying uptight, dont know where youre going, trying your kite when the wind is blowing
Funny lady, sunny, shady off to the fair, sun in your hair
Oh, youre aware youre a woman child woman, woman child
Strong minded woman when you start groovin you look fine
My kind of woman when you start movin you look fine
Child woman, woman child youre driving me wild child woman woman child
I dont see you there, I see you everywhere child woman
I dont even care -yes, I really do care child woman, ooh child woman,
Hey child woman child woman, woman child
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am.... (The Branch, Part Two)
i am...
the orphaned child and the abandoned dog,
the woman raped, the young man killed.
i am the body hanging alone and cold,
the old woman shaking in an empty room.
i am the young girl taken and enslaved,
the needle, the spoon, and the revolver.
i am black skinned, brown skinned anger,
and the bones of bodies hidden...
the speaker of truth detained and tortured,
the invisible trail left behind.
i am...
the rage of jobless, homeless, hopeless...
the unemployment line and the sweat shop.
i am the family living in a stolen car,
and the child who runs away.
i am the store clerk killed by the robber,
her minimum wage death unnoticed.
i am the shadow crossing the border,
the inmate that breaks and runs.
i am the guns silenced,
and the lies revealed...
i am human rebellion.
i am the branch covered by leaves,
waiting for certain autumn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dust Child
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child breathe your lungs a little while
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child to your surrender
Sleepwalking angel
Travel through a lonely house
Inspire hollow
Sadly follow
Your way to find me here
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child breathe your lungs a little more
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child to your surrender
Let dust settle
As blankets for your sleep
The skin tremble form the cold
Slowly'll corrode
Rest while you can
Before the sun comes up
And they'll find you where they find you
Only hope says they'll find you right here
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child breathe your lungs a little while
Come child sleep here by my side
Come child to your surrender
Wander ghostly cherub
Let torrents of empty calm you down
Let the dreams that wait for you dampen your lips
Until you wake and breathe your darling lungs no more...
Come child to your surrender (repeat until fades)
poem by Daniel Oliveira
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A Child Is Dying
for every tree you cut down,
a child is dying.
for every barrel of oil that
you drill and spill,
a child is dying.
for every coal mine you
rape the earth with,
a child is dying.
for all the nuclear waste
you cannot dispose of,
a child is dying.
for every country you bomb,
a child is dying.
for every chemical you spray
on your vegetables,
a child is dying.
for every river you dam & drain,
a child is dying.
for every oil field you own,
a child is dying.
for every animal you drive
to the brink of extinction,
a child is dying.
for every smokestack, every sweatshop,
and every synthetic thought,
a child is dying.
for every tree you cut down....
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
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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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When a Child Has Been Told
When a child has been told
Never shed a tear
The small child can only
Every bow their head in fear
And hope and pray they
Don't come back to silence them
They often live in fear
They learn not to cry
When a child has been told
Keep a secret
For if they do they will be punished
For telling lies
They bow their head in fear
Hoping they will not
Come back and take their life
They learn not to speak
When a child has been told
Close your eyes
All they can do is tremble
As the touch of evil hands
Slowly destroys their soul
Never to burn again
They learn not to care
When a child has been told
No one really care's
They sit alone and ponder
Will anyone believe?
If I just spoke
If I just shed a tear
Will anyone really care?
They learn not to feel
All I ask of you now
Is let them speak
Let them cry
Because it means they are alive
poem by Kaila George
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A Child Is Born
a child, a child, a child is born
to a mother who lies near death;
no food, no home, no place to go,
smell the stink of fear on her breath.
you build and destroy, and build again,
pound your chests with arrogant pride.
litigate and over populate,
sell your vision while children die.
if there's a God He doesnt live
in your temples and your shrines.
but in the cry of the hungry child,
and the ones you've left behind.
a child, a child, a child is born....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Child, The Man And The Old Man....
i look at the child
at the farther nook of a old house.
there is no chair and beside the door
is a box, it is empty
and the child in fear
took its hiding there
a favorite place
safety box, safe house,
the four corners are
so silent
and the child is happy
asleep in a moment.....
time travels like horses with wings.
there is a man
with a long bird his toenails
are long, no time to cut them
it throat is swollen
bacterial infection again
or the weather changes
cold this time then hot in
a moment
dusts all over the place
and white painted houses
it is lonely, child and man
at the same time
and not one of him speaks
they become one box
and one flap opens to
a sky
always there are
no extra hands. it is reality.
there is an old man
with words of thread
sewing upon its lips.
there is a very dark night.
the child, the man and the old man
are asleep
inside a box, safe and
silent.
there is no morning.
it is final.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Was Not Born To Follow # 2
i am the nail half-bent,
....tossed to the side,
......rusted by the rain.
the body of the young man shot
...left in the streets,
.....the bullet, and the silence.
the trembling hand that lights the pipe,
....and the anger deep inside.
......the young woman giving birth,
the light that screams for darkness.
...the door latch broken
.....on the vacant house,
and the roar of the empty.
...the waves that break the barricade,
.....leaving dead fish on the sand.
the telegram sent,
...the casket, the flag,
.....the mother's tears unspoken.
the ache, the crucifix, the reaching hand,
......the family left 'neath the bridge;
........the orphaned child, the jobless bum,
i was not born to follow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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For All of These, and More
for every daughter aborted
in China because sons
are preferred...
for every young girl or boy
sold into slavery here
in the states...
for every whale killed
by the Japanese ships...
for every expanse of ocean
filled with our oil...
for every tree cut
by the saws of greed...
for every woman and child
working in sweatshops...
for every political prisoner
that we ignore...
for every homeless person
in the 'land of the free'...
for every kid in jail
who never had a chance...
for every old person
left alone to die...
for every family in Africa
left to starvation....
for every plate of food
thrown out, wasted mindlessly.
for every mountain raped
by the miner's hands...
for every kid that is different,
that is abused and beaten...
for everyone killed in our
money driven wars...
for all of these, and more...
i ask forgiveness, as
a member of the human family.
for all of these, and more,
i take responsibility.
for all of these, and more,
i choose to live today...
with an involved hope
for tomorrow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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The Bells Of Freedom
do the bells of freedom ring
every time someone dies of starvation?
every time a child is abused,
every time a woman's left alone
to raise the kids...
every time a young boy hangs himself,
every time an addict steals his fix...
every time a boy is shot dead in the street,
every time a mother weeps....
every time a boy goes off to war,
comes home in a bodybag....
and no one knows why.....
every time a family is evicted,
with nowhere to go....
every time a factory gets shut down,
and the workers walk away with empty
lunchboxes and shattered dreams.....
every time a minister gets up to pray,
and the silent, grieving, walk out...
every time a young girl gets beaten
by a pimp in a back room....
every time a family farm is taken,
every time a tanker leaks oil...
every time a prisoner is executed
for something he didnt do....
every time a protestor gets arrested
for standing up to be counted...
do they ring? and are they
the chimes of freedom....
or the bells of passing....
saying their final farewell!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Cry Of The Lonely...
i have heard the cry of the lonely,
the tree bent with grief for the ocean.
the squirrel who dreams of wings,
the mountain melting with need to wander.
the child orphaned by war or poverty,
the monk on fire for a world that's blind...
the beaten body in the prison cell,
the door opened, no one there.
the naked body weeping on an empty bed,
the voice calling without echo.
the tongue that walks the rainy night...
the moon hidden by clouds cold and distant.
the lonesome sound of the faraway train,
the lover who walks the garden...
the empty streets, the hollowed houses,
where not even the scent of memory lingers.
the bruised hand stuck in the pocket,
the letter never addressed.
the flower that bloomed, and no one saw,
the bent nail on the back of the shed....
the candle snuffed.... the last words lost...
lips swollen, set, and driven...
am i the cry, or just the shell,
that brushes against your heart without name?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Creator And A Barren Woman
A barren woman had been praying for a child for long,
Then after many years without hope the Creator heard her prayers;
Then the Creator said to her: 'A year today you will give birth'.
This is the story of the Creator and a barren woman:
A year after the barren woman gave birth to a child.
Now, she started to complain again to the Creator;
Because, she has no time to take care of the child.
'Oh, i am too tired of taking care of this child';
And the Creator was very patience.
'Oh, i cannot take care of this child any longer';
And the Creator was very patience again.
'Oh, i have given my husband a child but i cannot take care of him';
This child was a son and then, the Creator said to the woman:
'When you were baren you did cried out for a child but,
Now that you've got one you also crying daily for his upkeep';
'Well, the wants of mankind are many and mankind is NOT satisfied'.
Yes, we are all living on this earth;
With stories and the things that we see around us;
But mankind is really NOT satisfied, whether barren or with a child.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Every Child!
the faces of...
every child who'll
go to bed hungry tonite...
every child afraid to sleep
for fear of the soldiers,
the bullets, the bombs....
every child abused
by his parents...
every child humiliated
for being different.
every child who's never
known his own father...
every child with no hope
for an education...
every child sleeping
in homeless cars.
every child alone,
lonely, without love.
every child of every broken home,
every child, every color, every country...
staring at me this sleepless night,
tearing at my heart...
all my children!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lifesong
to a child very young
life is
happiness and fun
to a child getting bigger
life and school
seem to be getting bitter
to a child growing up
life and love
seem to be getting mixed up
to a child fully grown
life is about
making choices on your own
to a child with a child
life is about
making sure there life isn't wild
to a child getting old
life is about
keeping your family out of the cold
to a child old and grey
life is about
remembering the past things you used to say
to a child dead and gone
life was about
your one lifesong
poem by No Reason To Care
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born To Be Ransomed
Born to be ransomed,
Born for a reason,
On one side Love,
On the other side Security,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed elsewhere,
Or,
Mabey,
Taken to be placed with them,
Born to be ransomed,
Held ransomed by those,
For security measures of the father and mother,
So,
They are called on by the beckoning,
Of,
Those holding child held by ransomed,
Is what people do when child means,
A lot to mother and father,
Love and security in family keepings,
Born to be ransomed,
With intent to use child,
By the takers of child,
To profit and gain,
For themselves in lifes times,
When child born is then used,
Till,
Mother and father is killed,
And,
Child is then raised in a racket,
For,
What mother and father were,
And,
Left for the child when child grown,
In giving is receiving,
All that has good intentions,
Gives for good reasons,
Yet,
Why one is born to be ransomed,
Is,
The what see's and pre-desires,
The placement and life,
Of,
What two in love have made,
The unborn child then becomes,
The ransom of what wants,
What,
The two have in love and wealth,
When this goes on and child is grown,
The eyes that see and yet do not understand,
Is,
The child raised seeing all,
From,
The good ways,
To the bad ways,
To the cruel ways,
To,
The crimes committed and seen,
Is,
The eyes of seeing,
From,
Been born in a world disrupted,
Is,
A child born and ransomed,
What is of matter,
Mattering to two,
Two in love,
That,
Choose to be one,
One as in a couple,
To matter and be,
For,
What matters to them,
Is,
What brings matter of two,
To,
Become a matter of one,
A,
Child born of two,
Yet,
Now matter's to none,
But,
What ransoms the child out,
Till,
The child grew to be,
And,
Left them all behind,
Knowing,
Mother and father are dead,
Living,
Life knowing too much,
Just,
From been the ransom,
The ransom,
Of,
All,
That,
Is,
Of,
Mother and father,
Till,
All,
Of,
Mother and father's,
Income and places,
Was,
Spent and giving to others,
Tis,
Then,
Ransomed child grown,
Can,
Leave,
With noting,
But themselve,
To have some kind,
Of life,
Somewhere else,
Faraway!
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Why Hate Me I Am Just A Child
i born as a child
i grew as a boy
i need love as you have
i need peace as you have
i need respect as you have
i am a little boy sitting at my table
i cry because you hate me i don't know why
i am afraid to walk the streat because of enemies
i am a little child a little humble child
why you hate me please love me
please accept me i am a little child
i don't have no one it's me alone
i am a child just a little child a little lonely child
can you be my friend and i will stop cry
you is my greatest fear please love me hi
i am a little lonely child just sitting at my door
waiting for you to say hi i need love or i may die
i am a little child a little humble child
poem by Gamar robinson
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Dance Naked #2
pull back the curtains,
tear down the walls!
open the forbidden door,
break the egg, and fly!
hold the child dying
of cholera in your lap.
wash the feet of the leper,
wipe the old man's ass...
kiss the cheek of the boy
who hung himself.
pick up the homeless man,
feed him, take him to a shelter.
clean the old woman's house,
help the single mom with her kids.
pick up the prostitute on the corner,
and offer to take her home!
take the gun away from
the boy strung out on dope.
take the preacher's donation
and give it to the soup kitchen!
plant a tree, plant a garden
leave your car at home, and walk!
give an illegal immigrant some work,
and pay him well!
read the Bible for yourself,
pray with people of different faiths.
take God off of the altar,
and be compassionate action!
feed the hungry, heal the sick,
free the oppressed!
stand in the face of life...
bare your teeht, and howl!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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