I Am..... (Feathered Wing)
i am the kiss of the feathered wing...
having no body i walk across oceans.
driven by ancestral blood i go deep in the mines,
listening for the voices of freedom.
i define hunger with faces and eyes,
i unload the gun, and tear down the idols.
i am the maker of mountains,
bare branches bringing forth leaves.
i am the winds of change,
the still small voice within.
i am the womb of the unborn child,
i am the casket, the forever dirt.
i am the groan of the lover left alone,
the shout of the old man's empty room.
i am the stink of poverty,
and the bitter taste of wealth.
i am money burning
on the altars of mankind.
i am the voice of the god
you no longer remember.
i am the touch that breaks down walls.
i am conversation without words,
i am black and white,
both male and female!
i am death unlike what you feared,
i am the bridge you're afraid to cross.
i am the pierced tongue,
and the language of birds.
i am the promised land
deep within you!
i am the wail of justice
during the height of the storm.
i am the storm, and the quiet that follows.
i am the end of human striving,
and the beginning of breath.
i am the price and the cost of condemnation.
i am the scriptures written in the grain of trees...
i am the hand that stills troubled waters.
i am nothing, came from nothing,
to nothing i return!
i am the sight that heals blindness,
the cure for the disease.
i am you...
evolving!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Waiting, Still Waiting
i have been to the place where dignity calls,
heard the sounds of families running for cover.
felt the pounding of guns, smelled the stench of bodies,
watched men who hated theirselves in another.
saw ghouls counting money stained by blood,
saw priests counting bodies buried in mud.
felt the sting of the lie, the cold inside empty.
heard the groan of towns and burning cities.
both broke outside and broken inside.
where good men pray for the courage to die....
still the shout and the fury of freedom shakes...
tis the hand that gives and the hand that takes.
we are no more than the doubt and the ache...
waiting, still waiting, for the storm to break!
now who will lead and who will follow,
the path of yesterday dont lead to tomorrow.
the end of the world, the beginning of time.
while the sheep are lost and the goats are blind.
now the voices of children unborn crying,
for the mother slain and the father dying.
the howl of abandonment tears the sky,
the stink of poverty perfumed by the lie.
now the gods of men turn in disgust,
while the souls of men crumble to dust....
still the shout and the fury of freedom shakes....
tis the hand that gives and the hand that takes.
we are no more than the doubt and the ache...
waiting, still waiting, for the storm to break!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Before Storm (Walking With Rilke)
staring across the chasm of forever,
if my body be the bridge,
then yours,
the cup, the fire, and the lantern!
the wind wrote of love,
before there were humans!
scriptures written in trees,
mountains, and hollowed out caves.
your lips,
breath, and understanding...
your heart,
pure awe!
do we 'speak with the tongues
of men and angels'?
or stuttering fragile words,
repeat the wind?
mountains bow to breast and thigh,
sunset undressing those eyes...
the small place between
wing and body... pure heat!
the wrap of the rain on grasses chanting!
spirits with pens undulating,
the scent of god's perfume,
the moment just before storm!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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
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To Find The Home!
i drink the cup
that is your flesh...
i revere your scars,
your bruises,
the stink of your heart.
the scent of your eyes,
the silence of your ears...
my tongue writes your body
on infinity's glass!
i listen for your voice
beneath the trees.
i feel your nearness
in the hoot of the owl.
i share your anguish
by the silent small fire....
the horse i ride,
bears your name.
i am the ghost of city streets,
the body left for the wolves
on the mountainside.
i am the air frozen with fear,
as the great bear stands
in magnificent fury.
you are the bridge,
the lantern, and the hound.
the purple struck sky
of sunset eternal.
the body that feels,
smells, and tastes like love...
the moan that stills the wind!
this distance but a paper veil,
a wisp of smoke,
the moment before and after.
the call of death,
the threshold of storm...
set the fire...
and walk away!
(sometimes you have to burn
the building down...
to find the home!)
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Become Deliverance!
when the darkness is so deep
you can taste it,
and the shout of silence
rattles your bones...
there is a candle
on a bare table
in the room hidden
deep in your heart...
light it, and carry on!
when death taunts you with superstition,
and your hands grasp
for things you once held...
there is a wind that has followed you
since you were a child...
let go, open the door, let it in!
when sorrow tugs at your heart
with the gravity of the tides,
and the faces of the suffering
smell like burning flesh...
there is a bridge
made of your own mistakes...
cross it, and become deliverance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Weeping... (Betrayed)
weeping...
i know the sound,
the feel, the taste.
the deep intensity
of storm laden skies.
the grey dust
on the building vacant.
the stink of human flesh,
when hunger ripens into need.
the death of oil tainted water,
and smoke choking out the air.
the sudden take of violence,
seems reason never justifies.
the cold clank of chains,
the sobbing dirt of endless fields.
the baby gasping for life
in a room designed by hate.
the old woman dying on a makeshift bed,
rats running across the floor.
the old man left alone,
to read books that resemble life.
the church empty, the alleys full,
the eyes staring at the ground
in the unemployment line.
the hand too poor to be touched,
the body too old to be loved.
the jack-o-lantern face of god,
in a world too stoned to know.
the rope hanging from the ceiling,
the silence when words run out...
weeping...
time betrayed by the hands of death!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Sparrow That Flew!
kiss me!
like you remember,
the taste of my flesh...
with lips that quiver,
sucking light from shadow.
undressing slowly
in sync with the earth,
the softest flutter
of touch ignites!
take me!
like tides hug the shore,
mountains tremble,
and winter trees shout!
the pulse of my passion
surging deep, long, and strong.
till you break the storm
like a twig neath your feet.
swallow me!
till i am no more,
my body a sacrifice
left at eternity's door.
burn me till nothing
is left to withhold.
the prayer on the cross,
the sparrow that flew!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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There Is A Voice...by jojobean & David Harris
There Is A Voice
Written by JoJo Bean and David Harris
There is a voice in every form
A song in every breeze
Just listen to the thunderous storm
The wind that whistles in the trees
Or have you heard the oceans cry
And the hush of a bird on wing
Happiness in the morning dawn
And sadness that the end of day brings
Listen with your senses
At the voices all around
And hear about our world
Through the voices of its song
Learn to listen
With your mind’s eye
Whenever you watch a small bird
Wing its way across the sky
16-17 January 2008
Liberty... (Dont Betray Me Now!)
Liberty...
dont betray me now.
i have paid your price,
in bodies burning,
and mouths that tremble.
in toil and struggle,
in sweat and faith.
take not thy hand from my heart,
for you have spoken to me with eyes.
eyes that see the beauty
of the common, and simple.
eyes that drink equality,
seeing hands joined in darkened rooms.
eyes that pray common prayers.
who am i to have a face?
who are these faces,
giving dignity to names?
history written in warm blood,
on the farmhouse walls,
on the factory floors,
in the carpenter's apron!
i am the voice of what should have been...
what could have been!
i am family handed down to family,
i am equity and justice.
i am the black hand taking down
the all white sign...
i am the horses of Crazy Horse,
Sitting Bull, and Cochise.
i am the mill worker's only son,
going to college.
i am the daughter of the minister,
marching for women's rights.
i am the young man in prison,
teaching himself to read!
i am the sound
of machines shut down,
of fields left unplowed,
of courtrooms empty.
i am the bodies of the young men,
killed in your napalm wars...
i am the mother and father,
burying their only son.
i am the rage of the poor,
with calloused hands torn.
i am the housing projects,
the trailer parks,
and the prisons full.
i am the cities gone mad,
with despair and grief.
i am the spirit of rebellion,
and the body of revolution!
i am the scientist, the doctor,
the preacher, and the drunkard.
i am the free thinker,
daring to question.
i am the man alone,
who dares to stand and defy.
i am the voices of the grandfathers,
and grandmothers,
crying out from their graves.
i am the migrant worker,
the bedpan emptier,
the garbage man,
and the small town sheriff...
the stink of injustice,
and the vote not counted.
Liberty, o Liberty,
turn not your face...
for i am the breath and the blood,
that moves your body!
i am the prayer too long unprayed...
one hand in a fist,
and the other left open!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am... (A Man)
i am...
both the disease and the cure,
the sin and the sinner.
i am the hunger and the taste,
the arrow and the strike.
i am both penis and spirit,
the hunt, and the hunter.
the hint of love, and raw longing...
i am an old man,
and an ageless storm!
i am romantic, and sensual,
a warrior of the spirit.
i am failure and excrement,
jeans torn at the knee.
i am anger and compassion,
the bitter, and the bittersweet.
i am beginning, dust, and formation...
i am ending, death, and the unknown.
i am the memory of life before,
and the hobo soul that will return.
i am guilt and redemption.
i am a man...
i smell, touch, taste, and feel...
i am a man...
i am!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Epilogue (Part Three)
shivering nails,
black and white coffins whisper.
bodies without heads,
strewn in the sand.
the taste of gunpowder
on my lips.
i bow, but cannot pray!
the sound of the oil rigs,
the coarse rhythm of greed.
take and destroy, take and fulfill!
the cry of sea life,
the gurgling choke,
soon to be the children
of flaccid men.
buildings like bodies,
stripped empty and bare.
the memories smell
of life that once was.
empty, and pulsing,
with the want of need,
no one hears the ghosts within.
hunger and homelessness,
heroin and Jesus.
the shelves are bare,
the mother's eyes are bleeding.
the nameless and unwanted,
cast aside in the storm,
while ghouls walk amid
the rubble of the lie.
sing for me, pray for me,
take my hand, take my hand...
even when i close my eyes,
i still hear, still feel,
the faces of the wind!
and god, if there be,
in each and every tear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hunger
Tell you a story
bout a friend of mine
Woke up in this room
Looked like... black and white movies
No light
And someone strange in the bed
She said
You could be here forever
Can you feel me?
Im the new disease
Im like a hunger
That youve never known
Do you want me?
Ill take everything
Im like a hunger
Lying in your heart
He made excuses
Tried to leave the room
She said
Im the disease and the cure
Skin mechanics
Couldnt help you here
The nature of need
Leaves you junk sick and lonely
Trick it up
Trick it up good
She moved
Like a ghost to the door
She said
This is a re-al love story
I heard his voice
And walked in on it all
She said
You could be here forever
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Need Scriptures....
if you need scriptures,
read the scriptures written
on the walls of your soul!
read the scriptures written
in trees, in rocks, in rivers.
read the scriptures written
in the broken alley.
in the homeless man's eyes,
in the addict's desperation,
in the shuffle of jobless feet.
in the cry of the newborn baby,
in the lovers moan of fulfillment,
the scriptures written
in the sweet darkness of night,
in the jail cell,
in the picket line,
in the monk who sets himself
on fire for freedom and justice,
in all the colors of equality...
in the hungry child's hand reaching out...
read them, know them, be them!
life testifies to the living!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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One Small Voice!
just one small voice
in a sea of voices,
all different languages,
male and female...
crying out against the roar:
WE WANT TO BE FREE!
one small voice,
a face soon forgotten,
but a body and a soul...
one small voice,
but now every voice counts,
we are together the voice
of humanity and hope...
WE WANT TO BE FREE!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Mouth Devours!
the earth is the body.
humanity, the mouth.
the infinite breathes in the wind.
redemption falls in the rain.
the mountains speak of standing,
standing strong and resolved.
the sky teaches freedom,
the oceans, the womb.
trees wrap their branches in unity,
the grasses sing of equality.
the seasons are the clock,
in the dirt we find the mind.
so why is it then
that the mouth devours,
body, soul, and spirit...
gnawing its own flesh?
words spoken without thought,
hunger that swallows the sky.
lips stained by the grasses,
smeared with the dirt.
the mouth has no eyes,
and little understanding.
yet seeks to control,
and lives to devour!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Soul's Rebellion
tired, so tired...
i throw myself into sleep,
falling from the edge of the building,
i cannot see the street below.
a suicide against the hollow body
of everyday repetition,
and the cold stink,
of hands unwashed!
falling, cursing death,
and all it's religious demands.
i ooze from the skin of 'myself',
the dog breaks from its pen.
desire, beating and real,
i drink the juices of lovers...
forbidden to show their faces.
i am penis and rhythm,
the taste of the oak split
by lightning or axe,
who knows? i dont care!
i am blood on the lips,
forever rich in its color.
i am freedom screaming
from the stoop of poverty.
i make love in the alleys,
tossing cans and breaking bottles.
i rip buttons from the blouse,
whisper oceans and darkness.
i am brandy and semen,
words written on the stone,
glowing in the forever night
of your soul's rebellion!
i am free!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Truth... Demands An Audience
i keep watching
old people dying...
with unspoken living,
trembling on their lips.
truth...
demands an audience!
the silent screams
of mountains and rivers defiled.
even the trees whisper,
the sad hurt of poverty.
the wind cries of justice,
in the empty rooms of god.
do you tire of this flame?
wish i'd go away?
give it time,
even my footprints will disappear.
trees will fall,
mountains will crumble.
and the oil raped rivers
will stink of death.
hungry mouths will go unnoticed.
without faces or names.
cities full of empty buildings
will murmur in the night.
and nothing will return
to claim it's just reward.
the unmarked stone stays silent...
even the silence tastes bitter!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Voice In My Heart
(stewart gray/todd kennedy)
Published by hello holly music/keppel music publishing/frankly blond music/socan - bmi
Something in your eyes, is telling me goodbye
I dont wanna see you walk away
Cause Ive been waiting here so long
This feeling cant be wrong
I dont wanna see you walk away
Like a teardrop from the sky (fallin just like tears)
Do you wanna see me cry
Theres a voice in my heart, calling out your name
I dont wanna wait forever
And theres a fire in my eyes, burning deep inside
Please dont make me wait forever
As I watch you walk away, theres nothin left to say
Friendships end sometimes
But somethin in me cries, asking you why
Before you walk away
Theres a voice in my heart, calling out your name
I dont wanna wait forever
And theres a fire in my eyes, burning deep inside
Please dont make me wait forever
Do you know what it is to cry, did you ever try
Theres a voice in my heart, calling out your name
I dont wanna wait forever
Theres a fire in my eyes, burning deep inside
Please dont make me wait forever
Theres a voice in my heart, calling out your name
I dont wanna wait forever
And theres a fire in my eyes, burning deep inside
Please dont make me wait forever
Theres a voice in my heart, calling out your name
I dont wanna wait forever
Theres a fire in my eyes, burning deep inside
Please dont make me wait forever
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lover, Come To Me!
lover, come to me!
i am the wind,
the sound, and the fury.
the small patches of fur,
left in the ditch.
the stained sheet,
the crack in the window.
i am the barking of dogs,
the song of cicadas...
i am the broken plow,
the hammer laid aside.
the bucket full of rainwater,
the tree bent by the storm.
i am the bodies of the innocents,
the nightmares of the guilty...
the stink of blood
dried by the sun...
the wagonload of melons,
the tornado swept roof.
i am the small shop,
where things are built by hand.
lover, come to me!
the oceans rage...
mountains are shaken,
the night has no end.
the sweat of desire,
covers my nakedness.
i am invisible.
i am the ghost
whose body you feel!
i am the madness
that your stillness defines...
lover, come to me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Nameless Selves
it is only I,
nameless selves,
dissolving, evolving...
appearing, taking form,
only to disappear back
into formless fermentation.
leaving only the stink of living...
the green scent of plants unfolding,
the grey soot linger of poverty,
of countless stones laid,
and trod upon.
blood and sweat and shit and prayers,
the pine walls of eternal casket.
the soured milk of nipple bitter,
the stench of rope,
too close to the flame.
rich red clay worn by infidel boots,
whose fathers were unknown.
the forever clutching odor of death,
cabinets built and never filled.
grease ground into a cast iron skillet...
and they call this time!
dissolving, evolving,
seminal sheets on fallen angels' beds.
cosmos held in a human hand,
taking wing, flying like bats.
a thousand names?
not even god has a name.
only light born within darkness,
reveals identity, staking claim!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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