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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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Saw God
i saw god...
in the small child shunned,
playing alone.
in the pregnant girl scared,
still a baby herself.
in the young man going off to war,
chest stuck out, and knees gone weak.
in the angry young man,
who learns to read in prison.
in the old woman in the empty house,
every wrinkle a chapter of love.
in the stray cat curled
against my leg.
in two young men in love,
kissing on the steps of a church.
in the family living on food stamps,
day work, and faith.
in the addict with the guts
to go into rehab.
in the body in the funeral home
that no one came to see.
in the couple married for twenty five years,
survivors of struggle, passion, and despair.
in the jobless shuffle of the heads down line.
in the old man fishing with his grandson,
in the mother teaching her daughter to pray.
in the poet, the carpenter, the farmer,
the doctor, the garbage man, and the cashier.
in the bride and the groom,
even the murderer and the victim!
in the anger of the protesters,
in the sin, and forgiveness.
in the black, the white, and every color between.
in moonlight pouring through poverty's window....
yes, i saw god...
never entered a church, a temple, or a mosque...
i merely entered the heart
of the living... and touched!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Wind Of The Human Spirit... (Part Three)
i slept in your homeless alleys,
grieved for the baby in the unwanted dumpster.
walked the streets with the pregnant young girl,
just turned away from the clinic.
watched the family that lives in their car,
buying sandwich food with food stamps.
saw the old man pull the plug on his sick wife,
and walk down the hallways to forgotten.
and when each had finished their task,
mine had just begun.
i broke the window with the angry young man,
crawled in and stole what i could.
i felt the junkie inser the needle,
and the whore being beaten to death.
i saw the boy raped by gang members,
down on cellblock C....
while the guard turned his head,
texting on his cellphone.
and when each had finished their task,
mine had just begun.
i watched them vote for indifference,
and drive away in SUV's.
and tonight their grandson committed suicide,
couldnt take the bullying anymore.
i saw gay lovers condemned to hell,
by those afraid to feel.
and the young Muslim girl afraid to walk home,
in the land of the free....
and when each had finished their task,
mine had just begun.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Time, Baby... Just Time!
jail time, heroin time,
back alley shuffle time,
standing in the soup line time....
sleeping in old cars time,
day work, selling blood time,
lost your job, no work time,
lost your house, nowhere time....
get your school in prison time,
radical free thought time,
fighting against the man time...
bum a smoke, a cup of coffee time.
woman done gone, aint coming back time.
food stamps and unemployment time...
kick off your damn chains time.
forgive, and forgiven time...
stand up and fight time,
hands joining hands time...
time, baby... just time!
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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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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The Hanging Tree.... (What Do We Call It...)
down through the woods
to the clearing where
the hanging tree stood...
sometimes you can still see
the shadows of ghosts,
swinging in the hot summer sun...
now the tree has been cut,
and time has passed,
yet the air's still heavy with guilt.
do we know more?
are we more civilized?
or have we just changed trees,
and gotten better rope?
what do we call the young men
sent to die in the oil wars...
the young people stuck
in the gang ridden slums?
the bullied ones who lose hope?
the illegal immigrants who die for work?
the young couple stuck on unemployment
and food stamps?
the elderly couple evicted
cause they cant afford the rent?
the Muslim family afraid to go out at night?
the gay couple in love who cant get married?
the young children without a father?
the millions strung out on pills?
what do we call it,
if we dont call it hanging?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Young Single Pregnant Lady
Young lady, please choose life and don’t abort that unborn baby,
Some couple will adopt him or her and no if ands or maybe,
It doesn’t matter what religion you are because the baby can’t tell,
He/She would rather stick around than have to wave farewell.
Because at the abortion clinic, they will murder your child,
Though they come across as though they have respect and never reviled,
They will dropp the fetus of your dead baby in a garbage bag,
This is all well hidden because they are silent and never brag.
This they wont let you see because it’s done behind a curtain,
There’s something terribly tragic about this and I am certain,
Ask around because someone wants a baby and can’t have one,
You can help them with a new life that has just begun.
Nov 25th,2010
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am (Blunt Edge)
i am...
the blunt edge, the jagged rim.
the cold shock of truth,
the common sense statement.
the nuclear missiles dismantled,
and the guns laid down.
the food needed for the hungry,
and the collapse of systems.
i am equal distribution,
the need and right to work.
i am Friday night, and Sunday morning,
the wedding dress put away.
i am education for the poor,
and rehab for the addict.
i am the dignity of death
made by the dignity of life!
i am the rose and the broken mower,
the cow milked every morning.
i am the poetry of the common,
and the sacred ground they walk.
i am the baby born in poverty,
and the chance that must be.
i am the prisoner who did his time,
and the job that he needs.
i am the long haul trucker,
the steel worker, and the nurse.
i am the doctor who runs the clinic
on the poor side of town.
i am the young couple making love,
twenty five years later!
i am the stink of garbage,
the incense, and the candle!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swollen (Chapter Two)
she drove across town,
past the empty warehouses,
to a quiet neighborhood down
on the poor side.
she helped him into the house,
past the foreclosure notice
on the door. there were no
lights, and it was cold.
in the little room at the back
of the house she lit a candle.
she helped him to a chair.
he heard a rustling in the corner.
she walked over and picked the baby
up and held him close.
he could see the blood crusting
on her lips in the half light,
the bruises under her eyes.
'mister, i have to feed the baby,
i dont have anything to offer you...'
they made small talk as she fed the
baby. she'd lost her job, and they'd
been evicted from her apartment. she
had no family, and nowhere to go for help.
the baby's daddy was in prison.
she was an ex-addict. had been straight
since before she was pregnant. lately,
she'd turned a couple tricks for food money.
she hoped no one knew they were staying here.
but it was just a matter of time...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Im So Young
I have a girlfriend
She says Im her only one
We wanna get married
But were so young
So young
Cant marry no one
They say our love is
Just a teenage affection
But no one knows
Our hearts direction
So young
Cant marry no one
Im Im Im so young
Im Im Im so young
Im Im Im so young
Cant marry no one, no one
Pretty soon now
Ill go to sea
Their mothers baby
Will have seen the last of me
So young
Cant marry no one, no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
Cant marry no one
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Left It Up To Me
When I let you go
I cursed myself with empty hands
Strong enough to watch you walk
But not enough to understand
With spiteful eyes you burn for my grace
I was trying to stand outside of this
You were trying to save face
You can say that I dont care
I dont care
You can hope that we still
Have something left to share
But just between you baby and me
Just between me baby and you
Theres nothing there
I finally found someone I can hold
You ask me to defend myself
As if I shouldnt be so bold well
Get that look off of your face
I dont have the time
You dont have the place
To say that I dont care
I dont care
To hope that we still
Have something left to share
And just between me baby and you
Just between you baby and me
Theres nothing there
Baby what are you gonna do
I cant salvage any truth for you
Everybody else already knows
It hurts you to realize
So leave well enough
Enough alone
And you dont need my hands
To help you understand
You dont need to hear my voice
(you have no choice)
So dont be throwing stones
The closer we get
The harder they come
Now even if your feeling alone
Dont come home
Cause when it was up to you
When it was up to you
You left it up to me
Oh you left
Oh you left
Oh you left it up to me
When it was up to you
You left it up to me
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One's A Couple
Thanks, but no thanks
I Didn't come here to dance
I'm with somebody, I'm afraid I'll have to pass
Two years ago he left me, now his memory's back around
One's a couple baby,
Two's a crowd
We came in here to be alone
No TV, no telephone
Two old flames out on the town
One still burns, and one's burned out
One's a couple baby,
Two's a crowd
They institutionalize people for actin' like I do
I'm drinkin' with somebody, that ain't in the room
Can't you see we're busy, trying to work our problems out?
One's a couple baby,
Two's a crowd
We came in here to be alone
No TV, no telephone
Two old flames out on the town
One still burns, and one's burned out
One's a couple baby,
Two's a crowd
We came in here to be alone
No TV, no telephone
Two old flames out on the town
One still burns, and one's burned out
One's a couple baby,
Two's a crowd
One's a couple baby,
Two's a crowd
song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
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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You Wanted To Know....
the starving child you saw on your tv screen,
the one that made you turn the channel.
the old homeless man who tried to bum a dollar
when you were pumping gas...
whose hands were shaking,
who smelled like trash,
who you made fun of when you left...
the one you gave 50 cents to,
just to get away from...
the young painted up girl you called a whore,
the guy strung out on pills
buying groceries with food stamps...
the veteran who came home
to find his family gone....
no job, no home, he blew his brains out!
the gay boy who slit his wrists,
tired of being bullied.
the old couple evicted broke and sick....
the bodies of women and children killed by the drones,
the young man in prison who just got gang raped.
the disabled woman you cursed when she made your change,
the old man buying dog food who doesnt have a dog...
well, you wanted to know what god looks like!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Am I? I Am!
who am i?
whose voice do you hear
when i growl?
whose face do you see
when i moan?
i am the train
that hasnt come
for twenty years,
the tracks left to whimper
like a deserted bride.
i am the lock rusted,
and the key that is lost.
i am the cross of silver
on the neck of the corpse.
i am the soldier come home
to no home at all.
i am the father burying
his only son.
i am the vote not cast,
the prayer unspoken.
i am the homeless shelter,
and the house in the suburbs.
i am the husband and wife,
splitting after 25 years.
i am the abused child,
the worker without a job.
i am two young men who are
in passionate love,
and the families that
turned their backs.
i am the young boy and girl
making love for the first time,
when nothing else matters.
i am the empty church,
and the library closed down.
i am laws that take away
the individual's rights.
i am a poet, a hammer, a wheelbarrow,
and a bag of used clothes,
left on the doorstep
of the family in need....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maybe Im Amazed
(paul mccartney)
All right, heres one you may well know, you may not know it
And if you dont know it, I really dont know where youve been,
So you should know the tune. here we go!
Maybe Im amazed at the way you love me all the time
Maybe Im afraid of the way Ill leave you
Baby, Im amazed at the way you fool me all the time
You hung me on a line
Oh baby, Im amazed at the way I really need you
Baby, Im a man, oh baby, Im a lonely man whos in the middle of something
That he doesnt really understand
Baby, Im a man, oh baby, youre the only woman that could ever help me
Baby, wont you try to understand
Baby, Im a man, oh baby, Im a lonely man whos in the middle of something
That he does not really understand - good god, hoo
Baby, Im a man, oh baby, youre the only one that could ever help me
Baby, wont you try to understand
Baby, Im amazed at the way youre with me all the time
Baby, Im afraid of the way Ill leave ya
Baby, Im amazed at the way you help me sing the song
You right me when Im wrong
Baby Im amazed at the way I really need ya
Baby, Im a man, oh baby, Im a lonely man whos in the middle of something
That he does not really understand
Baby, Im a man, oh baby, youre the only woman that could ever help me
Baby, wont you try to understand
There you go, heh
Baby Im amazed, the way I really need you
Alright. just about warming up and getting into it right about here.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Say It Baby
(daryl / taylor)
(dont say it baby)
(dont say it baby)
Dont say it baby
Dont say its only me for you
Its not true
Im still young and theres so much I wanna do
(dont say it baby)
(dont say it baby)
Dont say it baby
Dont say the word that youll regret
Dont forget
Im a girl whos learned to take what she can get
(dont say it baby)
Today I could never belong to one boy
(one boy)
And while you wait for tomorrow
Youll find your heart broken in two
Dont say it baby
Dont be a fool for anyone
Have your fun
Go away
Live every day while youre young
(dont say it baby)
Go away
Live every day while youre still young
(dont say it baby)
You better go away while youre still young
You gotta live every day now
While youre still young
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blow Wind Blow
(by mckinley morganfield)
When the sun rose this morning, I didnt have my baby by my side.
When the sun rose this morning, I didnt have my baby by my side.
I dont know where she was, I know shes out with some another guy.
Dont the sun look lonesome shading down behind the trees?
Dont the sun look lonesome shading down behind the trees?
But dont your house look lonesome when your babys packed to leave.
Blow wind, blow wind, blow my baby back to me.
Blow wind, blow wind, blow my baby back to me.
Well you know if I dont soon find them, I will be in misery.
Goodbye baby, that is all I have left to say.
Goodbye baby, that is all I have left to say.
But you have lost your good thing, go ahead and have your own way.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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