In The Image Of Man!
ancient Greek legends,
footprints carved in stone.
and yes the fires of Stonehenge,
and the medieval forests.
wooden ships sailing
on seas mapped by loss,
even Atlantis, but a memory.
Rome burned,
fed by the bodies of pride.
and men cut trees
until there were none.
a simple carpenter
reclaimed love by cost...
and bodhisattvas bore
the suffering of many.
men created god
in the image of man.
with war on his breath,
the color drained from his face.
destroyed the books and the temples
of the sacred feminine...
and so lost their hearts
in the shells of their egos...
feeding and gorging,
and bartering souls.
and the price of flesh
became the way.
they mined the earth,
pumped oil from the sands,
and defiled their oceans,
until there were none.
and Mother Earth wept,
the wind hid her face.
the womb closed,
the air stunk of death.
and the kingdoms of man,
crumbled and fell...
the gods of war,
turned away!
somewhere she waits,
her breasts on fire...
in the still darkness,
conceiving the dawn...
who will go?
and who will remain?
when the tides of time....
return?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Day, And The Coming Day!
we are the day,
and the coming day.
the cities painted with despair,
the houses built left abandoned.
the seeds we altered,
the trees we cut down.
the mountains we mined,
and the seas we defiled.
the peoples we left homeless,
left to die in poverty and hunger.
the ships we sent to the moon,
the smoke from the great factories.
the daughters we sold into slavery,
the sons we executed on profit's battlefields.
the lie, the drug, and the drug of the lie!
the temples we built
to gods that taught us to kill.
the prophets we killed with righteous indignation.
the bodies we left in our prisons of justice,
the flags we wore to defile our hearts.
we are the day,
and the coming day.
now skies have turned grey,
the air filled with our empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Darkness, Man, And God!
lonliness...
the soul cried out for
the presence of god,
even while held in the womb!
and so stars appeared,
for we feared darkness...
forgetting darkness our mother.
and we howled as wolves,
until there was fire.
yet the flesh we cooked
was our own...
darkness wept, and created dawn.
and the tribes of man rebelled
against the scent of the mother...
and civilization was born.
and men created distance,
between themselves,
between themselves and god.
so man created progress,
fueled by conceptual learning...
and so fed his fears,
and the distance widened!
so men created images of god,
faces cold and wrathful!
and men killed each other,
being drunk with blood.
and men raped the earth,
as savage beasts,
without the heart of animals.
prophets came and pointed the way,
men sold their words for profit!
unable to love, men learned to hate...
till the world aflame screamed, 'stop! '
and hunger became the way of the masses...
hunger for bread, and something more.
the great mother's tears fell like rain...
and the womb shuddered in silence.
till one by one, pilgrims extending hands,
formed a bridge, and lit a lantern.
and the children, born and yet unborn...
returned to the womb of darkness.
praying love and touching human faces,
aware of the presence that never left.
the sun set in glory on the cool dark night...
knowing dawn, as sure as the stars,
was coming! the howl of wolves,
the barking of dogs, the flap of wings...
suddenly silent with awe...
and connection!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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We Still Have Love...
we start with the tradition of life
we begin as bodies
tasting the fire of the flesh
savoring each moment
of skin and bones
and hair
time has a crucible
it tests us
about what we are
what are our intentions
what is in our hearts
our bodies are taken
the flesh weakens
the fire subsides
the skin loosens from the hold of the bones
the bones crack
the hairs have fallen
into surrender
we have become mere minds
intangible intentions
our hearts lose the sounds of the drums of life
we have no more hands to hold with each other
we have become the wind
we breathe into each other
the love that shall then be forgotten
we have become the sighs of the earth
into the darkness of its nights
what then my love? must we transcend the havoc that life
has caused upon us?
tomorrow, the eyes of death shall stare at us
we must decide
let not any stone of earth
be disappointed
we still have love
beyond and above.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Snail Crossing.... (Part Twelve)
human sexuality...
the bridge from one soul to another,
the holiest of fires,
both darkness and light,
creation and death,
the tenderness the wind mourns for,
the storm that changes the face
of the earth...
holding nothing back,
touch the one you love,
aware of each tiny eternity,
in rhythm with the tides...
only your heart knows...
the lost part of you...
the echo of your spirit,
the hand into which you dissolve...
you are the breath of each other...
and no one else has the right to judge!
love madly and urgently...
but most of all.... love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fill The Void...
we attempt
to fill the void left
when the self
leaves the soul,
with stone images
of a god we've created
out of iced over fears...
created in the image
of our own darkness.
a god that rains down
fire and brimstone
by our hidden whims.
a god that looks like us,
that acts like us,
and despises all else.
a prophylactic thrust
of eternity,
eternity sold on street corners...
and all the while
the stranger waits quietly
just outside the door.
his breath familiar,
his face everyman's,
his actions,
simple compassion.
his name, forgiveness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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With Each Memory Drained
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
What was her name
I think I already forgot.
A remembrance that matters not
Is it really the now that you got?
Grab hold
Squeeze till it never stops
Like a heart dieing
I must try harder, harder
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
What did her face look like
Another one erased
I am walking backwards
Picking myself apart
Digging and searching
So maybe these feelings
Will just fade
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
As I touched her only the way a man could ever know
What were the sounds
The moans, the whispers
In the dark
I must make it blank
Wipe the slate clean
But it just seems mean
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
Where was it we first met
In the summer yet
If only I could just forget
I must be stronger
I must not hold on any longer
Like an obsession it just won't die
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
What was the first kiss
What was the first taste
With such a sweet embrace
This is something I just no longer want relive
I gave it all I have give
Still suffering.
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
The muffled sounds of a fight
Screams and shouts brought to the light
Just dim it all out
Absolutely nothingness
A void I must become
With a sadness that must be unknown
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Born On Earth
How many have you given birth,
Mother earth, Mother earth?
Bore them here to drink your rain,
bore them here to feel your pain?
You cannot count them though you try,
not until you feel them die.
One by one they came to you
and one by one they left your view.
They plowed your fields and reaped your seed
and ate of you to fill their need.
Some were kind and pure of heart,
some foolhardy from the start.
How many came and breathed your air
and offered thanks and gave you prayer?
Did you keep a record of each brave soul
or just use yourself to cover the hole
that waits and observes their destiny
and accepts their bodies with sympathy?
How many more will you give birth
to stake their claim upon your earth?
Too many, too many I'm afraid
and for most a terrible price will be paid.
How many have you given birth
Mother earth, Mother earth?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Too Many Lies
too many lies,
desecrate the ground.
the footprints of fallen angels,
covered by the dust of hate.
spoon fed history turned bitter,
the sound of children's voices lost.
even the old juke joints,
deserted and vacant.
handmade guitars,
strings made of human flesh.
the howl of an angry wind,
pierces cardboard shelters.
cars abandoned on the side of the road,
fresh turned earth, no hands to plant.
passion's legs wrapped around,
the bodies now hollow.
young girls fall like rain,
forgotten by time.
to be madly in love,
and pant with desire...
all echoes and rust!
when bibles become weapons,
and the cost is too high.
dead poets whisper,
neath the old hanging tree.
flags flown at half mast,
and the factories are closed.
and you just cant remember
your grandfather's face!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Discredited
Three million women without mates
In lonely homes on earth!
And Cupid sighs at heaven's gates,
Where many a spirit ego waits
Its call again to birth.
Three million women, meant to be
The mothers of the race!
But when war reaps on land and sea
Its harvests for Eternity,
Poor Hymen hides his face.
I think Earth has discredited
Itself in God's good sight:
He does not care to have souls bred,
Where peace, and love, and joy are fled,
Until we set things right.
He meant earth for a Garden Spot
Where spirits could return,
And build new heavens as they ought;
And now behold! what men have wrought
By deeds that blight and burn.
So, vain the waiting egos quest
For pathways back to birth:
And vain the longing and unrest
In many a cheated mother breast.
God does not like the earth!
It must be cleansed and purified
Of selfishness and strife,
Of grasping greed and lust and pride,
Before He lets His Angels guide
The egos back to life.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Mother world
World become so small and tiny
It looses its charm and entity
When woman attains motherhood
She has no appetite for self or food
Whole world, as if, has come to her lap
She remains unconcerned even if danger taps
Let snake pass near by but she is totally unaware
She has her own world to look after and take care
All great souls have used mother as sacred refuge
So the mother is called divine and status very much huge
"if I have to avail another chance" mother's womb will be preference
To remain in her womb for nine months will be great memory with presence
When God is remembered so is the mother along with same
All religious books are full of praises from where he came
For time being her love might have been shifted
Yet mother is symbol of affection and love as it is gifted
Why children love her more than father?
She is combination of both father and mother
At given point of time, you may desert sometimes
But mother in any woman never think of it any times
She is living god and exact replica of holy shrine
Kindness and love is the treasure of any feminine
Mother is mother and stands for courage altogether
She is embodiment and so is celled "mother
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Breath Of God....
the breath of god is not selective,
it blows on all in sacred gift.
all that lives a part of each and all,
one being cannot suffer without another hurting.
man's inhumanity to man,
the legacy of our guilt.
until we all take up the plow,
the field will not bring forth peace.
god didnt make religion, man did...
and out of his own fears and pride,
the rules of holiness.
but man, woman, animal, and plant
were created to live in equal and sacred manner!
the fear of man lashes out,
and kills to convert....
the love of man joins hands,
feeds the hungry, and houses the homeless.
from religion we created war,
and god wept in silence.
our egos grew, and we took, we always took...
now the very earth grieves for us.
until we become the breath of god,
blowing on all, responsible for all...
we are the hand of our own destruction,
and the caretakers of our personal hells!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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What If I Fell In Love?
what if i fell in love with a leaf,
became the tree that nurtured?
became the sun, the rain, and the wind,
and the turning of the seasons...
what if i fell in love with the lock
on the knob of the door to eternity?
what if you were the only key?
whose hands would make the turn?
what if i fell in love with shadows,
etched by the blade of hungry light?
whose face, whose form, whose scent...
whose imprint on my soul?
what if i fell in love facing death,
and you were my last breath?
would you breathe into me rivers...
rivers and trees, and stone laid paths.
what if i fell in love despite of...
despite of wars, poverty, and anguish?
would you restore hope to the hopeless?
and build a fire to warm the night...
what if i fell in love again,
and we met like strangers for the first time?
would your hand fit into mine?
could we find passion stolen by loss?
what if i fell in love because i have to,
because i want to, because i need to?
because life demands to be lived,
and time is but a moment!
what if i fell in love with a leaf...
what sound would it make when it fell?
would the world be strong enough to go on?
would the sun ever rise again?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Child in the Womb…
The child in the womb longs
To leave the darkness ’round,
And see the light of the world,
Created by God.
The child in the womb yearns
To breathe the lovely air
Of independent life,
Made by God.
The child in the womb wants
To move about with ease,
On planet earth’s terrain,
Meant for it.
The child in the womb waits
To show its cry of life,
And feel its mother’s warmth,
And parents’ love.
The child in the womb loves
To show its beauteous form,
That love of God gave it,
Free of cost!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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The Calm Before The Flood
Mabool (The Flood)
...???? ???? ?? ????? ??? ?? ????,
???? ?? ??? ??? ?? ??? ???? ???? ?????,
?? ??? ???? ?????...
?????? ?? ?? ????? ??? ????? ??? ??? ?????
Translation:
And, behold, I, do bring a flood of waters upon
the land, to destroy all flesh,
wherein is the breath fo life,
from under heaven, and every thing that is in the
land shall dieand I shall wipe away
the world I created upon the land.
May the lord eternal save his troubled child
As he passes through rain and storm
Behind the walls of this hallowed ark of wood
Our prophets found a revelation, which they have understood
Onto the lands of fearful heaven comes a flood erasing all
Landing as if a ruthless bird of pray to crush all human souls
The lightning colors the sky with flames of light
Hell shines above us and fires bright
Erasing the worksof the common man, all we hold dear is set alight
???? ??? ????? ?? ??????? ???? ???
??????? ????? ?????...
??? ????? ??? ?? ????
Translation: In the seventh day of the month, the same day were all the fountains
of the great deep broken up and the windows of heaven had opened
And the waters of the flood, were upon the land
Shattered glass reflects this shattered world, barren is the landscape here
Thunder roars as a lion caged, heat that comes like waves of fear
Oceans rise and rage as we watch the world powers fall
Redeeming their sinful ways with their souls
May the truth fill their hearts, let them see the light, when they embrace their gods
???? ???? ??? ?????...
???? ?? ????? ???? ??? ????
Translation: and the face of the land was dead
Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.
Seas cover the works of timeless art
That once brought joy to human hearts
In halls of infamy this day shall live
Like the burning of Rome and betrayal of Eve
Like the fire raised at the witches' stakes
Return all earthly possessions
As ashes you return to earth, child of God, to face the divine lord who sits upon the throne eyes sad
Go in peace and find thy faith
Evolve thy self and lose all hate
So a heaven you may creat
In this world of sorrowful ways
None shall live to see the light of day
Some may survive to tell this tale
If their belife shall conquer this gale
Damnation is the punishment bestowed
El Norra Alila the vengeful God
song performed by by Orphaned Land
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Hours of Darkness
When upon the Cross of Calvary, great darkness fell for all to see,
For three hours upon the land, a darkness many didn’t understand,
That time after Christ was crucified, the time He suffered and died,
A time filled with silence too, when Christ had died for me and you.
Darkness surrounded His death, as He approached His last breath,
Darkness on the land was unfurled, around The Light of The World.
Silence fell on the mocking crowd, whose evil shout was very loud,
As the light scattered the darkness, hearts again, showed hardness.
Upon Christ God placed on Him, the darkened iniquity of man’s sin,
Made to be sin for Adam’s race, upon that cross He took our place,
And God couldn’t look and see, that sin Christ bore for you and me,
So through that dark span of time, God the Father had turned aside.
As Christ was on that bloody stake, the Son, the Father did forsake,
He gave His spirit, at His last breath, to His Father, as He saw death,
The earth quaked, opening graves, and bodies of saints were raised,
And as that Temple Curtain torn, the Age of Grace by God was born.
A soldier with sword and rod, said “surely that was The Son of God.”
The Son of God for all sinners lost, was taken down from the cross,
Thinking of that cross, we must recall, the Lamb of God died for all,
He died upon a bloody stake, so His Resurrection we could partake.
(Copyright ©04/2009)
Both Home And Grace...
are we running out of time?
the sands in the houglass
stained by blood, and want...
whose face on the milk carton?
whose footprints in the alley?
whose tongue turns the nut?
whose breath stagnant with hurt?
we write our stories in lifetimes,
lived, or burned...
the fire itself dim with age.
is love then destiny, a curse,
or a storm?
doth the night ever end?
and the unknown ship
sailing unknown waters,
carries the scent
of both home and grace!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Am I Evil (intro)
My mother was a witch, she was burned alive.
Thankless little bitch, for the tears I cried.
Take her down now, don't want to see her face
All blistered and burnt, can't hide my disgrace.
Twenty-seven, everyone was nice.
Gotta see 'em make 'em pay the price.
See their bodies out on the ice.
Take my time.
Am I evil? Yes I am.
Am I evil? I am man, yes I am.
As I watched my mother die, I lost my head.
Revenge now I sought, to break with my bread.
Taking no chances, you come with me.
I'll split you to the bone, help set you free.
Twenty-seven, everyone was nice.
Gotta see 'em make 'em pay the price.
See their bodies out on the ice.
Take my time.
Am I evil? Yes I am.
Am I evil? I am man, yes I am.
On with the action now, I'll strip your pride.
I'll spread your blood around, I'll see you ride.
Your face is scarred with steel, wounds deep and neat.
Like a double dozen before ya, smells so sweet.
Am I evil? Yes I am.
Am I evil? I am man.
I'll make my residence, I'll watch your fire.
You can come with me, sweet desire.
My face is long forgot, my face not my own.
Sweet and timely whore, take me home.
Am I evil? Yes I am.
Am I evil? I am man.
My soul is longing for, await my heir.
Sent to avenge my mother, sweep myself.
My face is long forgot, my face not my own.
Sweet and timely whore, take me home.
Am I evil? Yes I am.
Am I evil? I am man.
Am I evil? Yes I fuc*ing am.
Am I evil? I am man, yeah
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bible in Poetry: Revelation 8
1He opened then the seventh seal,
And heav’n turned silent for half hour.
2The seven angels before God,
Were given seven trumpets then.
3An angel, with a gold censer,
Came and stood before the altar.
He had incense to offer much,
With prayers of all the saints,
On the golden altar of God.
4The incense-smoke and saints’ prayers
Went up to God from angel's hand.
5The angel took the censer then,
And filled it with altar’s fire,
And hurled it onto the earth’s face;
There came thunder, rumblings, flashes
Of lightning and an earthquake great.
The Trumpets:
6The seven angels then prepared
To blow their trumpets, one by one.
7 When first angel blew his trumpet,
Hail came with fire, mixed with blood,
And it was hurled down on the earth.
A third of earth was burned up soon,
A third of trees were burned up too,
And all the green grass was burned up.
8The second angel blew trumpet,
And something like a huge mountain
Ablaze, was thrown into the sea.
A third of sea then turned to blood,
9A third of creatures of sea died,
A third of ships were all destroyed.
10The third angel blew his trumpet,
A great star, blazing like a torch,
Fell from sky on third of rivers
And on the earth’s springs of water—
11The name of the star was Wormwood.
A third of waters turned bitter,
And many people died from it.
12The fourth angel sounded trumpet,
A third of sun was darkened then,
A third of moon, and third of stars,
Was turned dark soon afterwards.
A third of day was without light,
A third of night also alike.
13And as I watched, an eagle flew
In midair, calling out aloud:
'Woe! Woe! To earth’s inhabitants,
Because of trumpet blasts about
To come from three other angels! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-16-2007
poem by John Celes
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Poseidon
Poseidon
(Return To Atlantis II)
(Follow the warm and subtle breeze,
as it will show you life under the seas…)
Travel to any destination along the coast,
here an old and undying love does boast.
Stroll on the beach and watch the tide,
and you will realise two worlds confide,
see how the water fondly caresses the sands,
my daughter held snugly in my hands.
I was born below the crashing waves,
it was there that I built my conclaves.
Deep under the water you will find,
the secret of the birth of mankind,
from beneath the oceans rolling surf,
my sea servants gave life to the Earth.
Around the island of Atlantis,
my wife; Amphitrite, and I did kiss,
from there she swam to the surface,
came upon the shore and birthed Artemis,
there my daughter made the land her domain.
Now an outcast by her servants of global fame,
I try to soothe her as she has lost her home,
as her woodland heart is now replaced by stone,
so I send out a plea to you from under the sea,
oh please will you return my daughter to me.
poem by Dale Mullock
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The Earth Speaks
I am the Earth, your mother
and you are my children.
I am from
the cosmic dust
of a thousand, billion, trillion stars;
conceived in tumult,
I’ve endured millions asteroid hits
and cataclysmic comet shots.
Hot lava flowed over my face
volcanic steam;
my body seethed
for millions of years;
titanic explosions
my insides
blew up;
where time and time again,
asteroids destroyed all my life.
but I started again;
renewed it.
Relentless,
I have created
beautiful blue oceans
continents, and wood
greens, and life, life
everywhere.
I took from the seas
my tiniest amino
bits
and created life;
one cell first,
then colonies
and then whole beings,
you;
I nurtured these small creatures,
your brothers and sisters.
I also gave you the moon
for silver nights,
the stars for inspiration
a magnetic shield
to protect your from the burning rays of the sun;
I gave you food, trees and animals
so that you might thrive.
You are all my children
whom I have reared in paradise;
in a world of plenty.
I took you from the caves
and showed you fire
sacrificed my own wood trees
so that you might eat your food
gave you animal skins
of my own creations
to shelter you from winter.
Gave you water.
I showed you the beauty of the stars.
and too alas too
a brain big enough to study war.
And you did discover war;
you discovered hate;
you took my abundance
and transformed it
into destruction.
My forests now burn
ignited by your hand;
you have rent my face with mining scars
and quarries;
polluted my rivers and oceans
for beads and baubles;
and fleeting shiny things
for your amusements
and then you threw them away;
whole pollution mountains created.
There seems no retreat from you
and the relentlessness
with which you pursue
all this
for reasons
I do not fathom
my canopy ages.
Hear me my children;
my fate is entrapped
with yours,
whether you live
is whether I live,
what you do
can destroy my oceans
and life itself.
I will return to being a cold rocky world
in the rushing void;
my blues
will become grey
and then black.
Hear me my children
for we are family.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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