Killing Of The Children!
the killing of the children continues,
their cries muffled by 'holy' hands.
you speak of bringing God back,
as if He were in retirement.
in the name of liberty you march,
the price of oil screams and soars.
build more prisons, dig more graves,
call on morality and justice.
still, the bodies of the children
testify on your back streets.
you spray the winds with chemical death!
and turning the pages of
your bloodstained Bible,
you call on the God whose
name you invented...
and He turns away in horror!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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America.... Revolution, Or The Fall!
America, America,
your pale skinned death testifies!
the cross of your democracy laid down,
the blood on your hands names your guilt.
your bodies laid in soldiers' graves,
strewn across your planted fields.
while wild fires rage,
and your tenements boil,
as your children march to death.
the poverty of indifference,
strikes the bell that cannot ring.
while the wealthy drink the blood
of your disembodied men.
and your hallowed god turns his face,
disgusted by what he's seen.
blood sacrifices on your borders,
blood sacrifices in your mills.
your families driven from their homes,
while your prisons turn the wheel.
and the hungry walk your streets
wearing familiar shoes.
the haunting cry of liberty,
rattles against your walls.
while justice is bought and sold
in your sacred halls!
and the colors of eguality,
bleed into your angry streets.
your schools struck numb
by propaganda's thumb,
your daughters sold like meat.
America, America,
revolution, or the fall!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stop The Killing!
he killed Trayvon
with a bullet to the chest.
stone cold murder!
much as we've killed...
Vietnamese children,
South American children,
the children of Iraq,
and Afghanistan...
Japanese children,
Native American children,
and probably next
the children of Iran!
as Dylan mocks:
'with god on our side'...
whose god?
what type of morality
justifies killing children?
we might just as well
be killing our own children!
and in a sense we are!
Trayvon demands justice...
so do the ghosts of all the children...
their faces ingrained in the curse
on our souls, on our land!
stop the killing!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mother Sky
Oh great mother of the sky
Hear your children’s cries
They have been taken away
By non tribal hands
To a place far from your eyes
Taken off of federal land
Your children now cry for you
Eighteen of your children missing
Their spirits grow weak
Has they are together trying to reach you
Wishing to be back home
Under your watchful eyes
Oh great mother of the sky
Hear your people’s cries
We wish to have our family
And our friends back home
Investigations continues for your children
The eighteen that are missing
Photograph taken of the site
Now are missing as well
Eighteen children missing
From our holy cemetery
Help us find your missing children
Whose tribe looks endlessly for them
We want them back home
Here in Kingman Arizona
Home of the Hualpai tribe
poem by Davina Vanessa Rivas
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Voices Of The Children
how many times will we turn to the wind
and hear the voices of the children?
how many bodies, how many graves,
before we forgive and are forgiven?
who makes the choice?
and who has the voice?
whose hand can stop the killing?
who defines liberty?
brings back community?
brings back the touch and the feeling?
and when will we know
they'll never be tomorrow
unless we live today?
will we find God in each other,
in our sisters and brothers,
in what we do and what we say?
how many times will we turn to the wind
and hear the voices of the children?
how many voices, how many graves?
before we forgive, and are forgiven!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Testify
The movie ran through me
The glamour subdue me
The tabloid untie me
Im empty please fill me
Mister anchor assure me
That baghdad is burning
Your voice it is so soothing
That cunning mantra of killing
I need you my witness
To dress this up so bloodless
To numb me and purge me now
Of thoughts of blaming you
Yes the car is our wheelchair
My witness your coughing
Oily silence mocks the legless
Boys who travel now in coffins
On the corner (corner)
The jurys sleepless (sleepless)
We found your weakness (weakness)
And its right outside your door
Now testify
Now testify
Its right outside your door
Now testify
Yes testify
Its right outside your door
With precision you feed me
My witness Im hungry
Your temple it calms me
So I can carry on
My slaving, sweating,
The skin right off my bones
On a bed of fire Im choking
On the smoke that fills my home
The wrecking ball is rushing
Witness your blushing
The pipeline is gushing
While here we lie in tombs
While on the corner (corner)
The jurys sleepless (sleepless)
We found your weakness (weakness)
And its right outside your door
Now testify
Yeah testify
Its right outside your door
Now testify
Now testify
And its right outside your door
Mass graves for the pump and the price is set, and the price is set
Mass graves for the pump and the price is set, and the price is set
Mass graves for the pump and the price is set, and the price is set
Mass graves for the pump and the price is set, and the price is set
Who controls the past now controls the future
Who controls the present now controls the past
Who controls the past now controls the future
Who controls the present now?
Now testify
Testify
Its right outside your door
Now testify
Testify
Its right outside your door
song performed by by Rage Against The Machine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Speak... Or Else Be Silent!
if you must speak,
speak not of distance or seperation!
speak without claiming identity,
without shouting, 'self'!
speak without grasping,
clawing, and holding.
keep your judgements to yourself!
i dont need to know the color of your god,
or what war you say he was born during.
i am more refugee than disciple,
i will not follow!
speak not of streets of gold
where angels play harps!
let us speak of these streets...
hard and raw, struggling and fighting,
dimly lit, stinking of urine.
littered with the trash of human lives.
speak of the exploding flash we call moment,
and the kingdom of heaven
that sweats and bleeds!
speak of the cries of the children!
speak of hunger and poverty,
injustices, and the cry for equality!
speak of the god that inhabits
the bodies of the lost and oppressed,
their faces etched by human cruelty...
scarred by apathy and indifference.
speak the truth!
bark like a dog,
meow like a cat,
chirp like a sparrow,
beat rhythm with your wings!
speak living words....
or else be silent!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Children Of The Night
Who hears the screams
of the children of the night
Who pays the price
For their plight
A life full of lies
To keep
Their nightmares quiet
Who will help
The children
Before it's too late
Who hears
Their whispered cries
As they become adults
and heroin becomes their light
Who hears the screams
of the children of the night
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Shield
they call him god
they call him father
they call to him so high above
but god has gone
the pain was just to strong
to see his children forsake him
as they fought war after war
using his name as a shield
these children he did create
full of love and hope
a father wished to know
but laughter turned to screams
his image he made them in
his love he gave them
the children he created
those he called to he
he had a choice
end it all
or walk away
cause the pain was to much
to see his children hurt
as they killed and as they
tore through the lands
of brothers and sisters
with such savagery
so god has gone
his heart does break
at leaving behind these
children of his still at war
using his name as shield
poem by Graham Russell
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Fast Winds
Fast and slow, faster than the wind,
This gale upsets the laughter of my soul.
The winds upset this smaller joy,
And continue to beleaguer my sons and daughters.
They run in the rainy storm like children,
But turn older through the seasons
Only to become monsters of the death.
The storm shall rage on, saving nobody
Like me or my children,
The storm then turns into a tornado
And swallows my wife and my children
And everything has disappeared.
The winds speak such death,
But I survive to tell of the tale.
poem by Naveed Akram
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What price freedom?
People wandering, mingling
Along busy, crowded streets
A chorus of voices
Rises and falls
The loudest voice cries 'freedom'
A blinding, flashing light
The roaring boom of thunder
Mangled, torn bodies
Litter the blood soaked streets
The scent of death lingers
A sweet and ghastly smell
A crumbling building falls
Echoing screams of despair
What price freedom?
What price freedom?
poem by Niall O'Hagan
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Two For The Price Of One
He had what you might call a trivial occupation
He cleaned the platforms of the local railway station
With no romance in his life
Sometimes he wished he had a wife
He read the matrimonial advertising pages
The cries for help from different people, different ages
But they had nothing to say
At least not until the day
When something special he read
This is what it said:
If you dream of the girl for you
Then call us and get two for the price of one
Were the answer if you feel blue
So call us and get two for the price of one
If you dream of the girl for you
(if you are dreaming of someone who might be right for you)
Then call us and get two for the price of one
(why dont you call us and youll get two for the price of one)
Were the answer if you feel blue
(we may be the answers to your problem, a chance with we two)
So call us and get two for the price of one
(why dont you call us and youll get two for the price of one)
He called the number and a voice said, alice whiting
The voice was husky and it sounded quite exciting
He was amazed at his luck
The purest streak of gold hed struck
He said, i read your ad, it sounded rather thrilling
I think a meeting could be mutually fulfilling
Why dont we meet for a chat
The three of us in my flat
I cant forget what I read
This is what it said:
If you dream of the girl for you
Then call us and get two for the price of one
Were the answer if you feel blue
So call us and get two for the price of one
If you dream of the girl for you
(if you are dreaming of someone who might be right for you)
Then call us and get two for the price of one
(why dont you call us and youll get two for the price of one)
Were the answer if you feel blue
(we may be the answers to your problem, a chance with we two)
So call us and get two
(why dont you call us and youll get two)
For the price of one...
She said, Im sure we must be perfect for each other
And if you doubt it youll be certain when you meet my mother
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Choice!
stop the senseless killing!
right here, right now!
murder is murder.
nothing you own or possess
is worth the price of a human life...
killing never brings peace!
the bombs you drop
you lack of faith.
the bodies you bury
in the shallow ditch your children.
only God knows the price you pay,
only you know the God you face!
every action brings either
life or death... your choice!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Song: The Cries of Today’s Children
I hear the cries of children,
Of children of the world; I Singer
The unwanted and unlucky,
The orphans and of streets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children who want love;
The illiterate, sick, handicapped; II Singer
Poor, without any sheets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children that must work; I Singer
To earn while young for family,
Have no place, time to play!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children war-ravaged;
Who know not what is joy in life, II Singer
Living in squalor, strife!
Let’s make this world for children,
A better place to live; I&II Singers together
With encouragement, dignity, * 2 times
And all love, we can give.
(
poem by John Celes
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The Naked Infidel
i am the naked infidel,
strolling naked through your churches.
singing in your libraries,
chanting 'justice' in your courtrooms.
scrawling liberty on the walls
and floors of your Senate,
unlocking prison doors,
bringing seed to your fields.
hauling bodies from your mines,
bringing doubt to your classrooms.
taking your girls from the corners,
sending them back to their homes.
disarming your soldiers,
and feeding your hungry!
i extend the holy hand,
that is common and covered with dirt!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My Pledge of Allegiance
We Pledge allegiance to a Flag, symbolizing liberty and justice for all~Proclaiming one nation under God, yet we help other countries fall.
With power and weapons for justice we sing~while death, pain, and sorry is all that we bring. To the republic for which it stands~this Flag should fly high in many lands.
A mask created using Gods name, I look at our country and sometime feel shame. Liberty and justice for all we do say, while war is our solution we kill everyday.
We send our children to war seeking global democracy~In Gods name, we do say this should not be. Nationwide cries, screams for Mercy, who has the power? The land of the FREE!
Is this justice I ask, that we are fighting for, or legalized slavery forever more.
We pledge our allegiance to a flag, symbolizing liberty and justice for all~One Nation for which it stands should include all countries big and small.
As you wave your flag with a gun in your hand~the pledge I shall make is to the creator of this land. I pledge my allegiance to God up above; and pray that someday your Pledge will mean love.
*I know at times war is necessary; however It still hurts my heart to see so much sadness, pain, destruction, and violence! It is time for change...Many blessing and prayers for all of our soldiers, and their families.
poem by Taunya Benns
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It's Easy For You (alternate Take 1)
You may not mind that it's over
But I've a different point of view
Even though I am shattered
It's easy for you
You don't have to face the music
You don't have to face the crowd
Just go back where you came from
You ain't even proud
I had a wife and I had children
I threw them all away
And now you tell me, you dare to tell me
I should go back to them
What do you think I should say
I found it hard to leave them
Saddest thing I ever had to do
My problems haven't started
And it's easy for you
I had a wife and I had children
I threw them all away
And now you tell me, you dare to tell me
I should go back to them
What do you think, what on earth do you think I should say
If you ever tire of the good life
Call me in a year or two
I've got no choice, I'll forgive you
'Cause it's easy for you
You only have to call me, it's easy for you
You only have to call me, it's easy for you
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Impotent Men!
impotent men...
their hands on the reins,
choking on the flesh
of the poor and subjugated.
while birds of prey circle,
bodies strewn on the streets;
another martini, stocks rise and fall!
the pipeline pulses, liquid death,
the eyes of the children
gone to marbles in the dust.
the prophets of profit
tilt their hats and turn away,
leaving the stench of their greed
on unmarked shallow graves.
their god is dead, the world keeps turning,
while the weak and the fallen
kneel in unholy prayer!
impotent men, beating their chests!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Small price to pay
Small price
Small price
Small price to pay
That all you say
Sending all the children to war
Tell us it will all be ok
Say they will come back two year this day
Small price to pay
They will be ok
They will be ok
Why is that all you say
You dig a pit in our hearts
Fill it up with lies
And seal it up
And seal it up
Why cant you tell us were they really are
Were they really are
Were they really are
If it a small price to pay
Send your children out in play
It that a price your willing to pay
Will you let your children stay
Our is that to big a price to pay
poem by Carlos Cardona
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There Are No Children Here
The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here
Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
No fathers
Because there are no children here
Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
Seeing everyone
And just for fun
Shoot them
People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''
A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
And
''They weren't children''
And
''You need to know:
There are no children here''
No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here
poem by Violet Llewellyn
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