Lonesome Refugee's Song (Part Two)
tis not magic, nothing more tragic,
than the works of mankind.
with instant salvation by quick donations,
the blind follow the blind.
while the rich cast bread to the nearly dead,
and kick the dogs as they eat.
with boots of flesh that stink of success,
they grind the bones beneath their feet.
the time clock shouts, undresses doubt,
till the truth is revealed.
dignity cries with unbound eyes,
till the cup of cost is filled.
god removes her mask for those who ask,
who've nothing left to lose.
while pilgrims search the trash and the dirt
for the things that can be used.
the distant shore, beyond the door,
the key won by fire and trial.
the naked stand with battered hands
beneath the cross of man's denial.
to bear the blow because they know
that they have not a home.
and only by heart to light the dark...
hear the lonesome refugee's song!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Bold Step
Night enters into the drift.
I get through a fossil, quite beyond
the light, a search begins for a tortured
being in some ideal’s mire.
The battle begins, of fears and doubts
and upon the trampled sun-blind truths
of past in dry desert of hungry sands
where the veined clot rises to the lung of moon.
Revival of black magic takes place, marking
the boundaries of denial, you will not cross
the line of fire, till the shade between evil
and good was obliterated and sins become
bones of dreams.
Will you wait on the gate, till eternity
accepts you as a forgotten child of
wronged parents? I shall start calling
the names of innocent bystanders.
poem by Satish Verma
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I'll Be Around
i'll be around...
in the wind that rustles your curtains,
in the whisper of darkness that taunts the moonlight.
in the silence that roars, and is then still...
in the prayers that children do not understand,
in the dying old man's aloneness.
in the blood that testifies against the hands,
in the hands that cannot escape the heart.
in the feet walking by their own will,
in the soul scarred by mistakes.
in the hungry mouth and the desperate eyes
that have seen and known too much.
in the fear that comes in the middle of the night,
and the dawn that never seems to come.
in the need to worship and the faith to act,
in the doubt that destroys false idols.
in the pound of the guns, the cries for help,
and the fire that has no favorites.
in the defiant stand, feet set firm,
the mark of the chains on backs and wrists.
in the freedom that does not buy and sell,
that sees beneath the skin.
in the constant dialogue of 'i and thou',
in the me that disperses and dissolves.
in the hammer, the saw, and the shovel,
in the grasses beneath bare feet.
in the song of the whipporwill,
and the final hoot of the owl.
in the howling of wolves,
and the sleepy stillness of the cattle.
in the hidden depths of your heart,
and the quiet darkness that forms your thoughts.
in the grain of the tree just cut,
and the rhythm of the fire going dead.
in every voice that cries for justice,
in every hand that reaches for help!
in the working hum of common thread,
in the simple dignity of the family.
in the ghosts of soldiers lost in battle,
in the weeping of mothers over their graves.
and in the constant courage of the peacemakers,
the voice of reason and compassion.
in the truth that all men are equal...
in the bridge from here to there!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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(I Heard That) Lonesome Whistle
I was ridin' Number Nine,
Headin' south from Caroline.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
Got in trouble, had to roam,
Left my gal an' left my home.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
Just a kid, actin' smart,
I went and broke my darling's heart,
I guess I was too young to know.
They took me off the Georgia Main,
Locked me to a ball and chain.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
All alone I bear the shame,
I'm a number, not a name.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
All I do is set [sic] an' cry
When the evenin' train goes by.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
I'll be locked here in this cell
Till my body's just a shell
An' my hair turns whiter than snow.
I'll never see that gal of mine.
Lord, I'm in Georgia doin' time.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic Beneath
There is a fire beneath me that is ready to burst
It cannot be seen by the naked eye
I cannot explain why or how
It simply rages beneath my soul
It is slowly exploding
The magic inside me
The magic beneath my heart
The spell that makes my heart beat
Faster and slower at the same time
It gives an uncoditional warmness
Making me strong inside and out
Making me to do things
Never been done
The feeling raging through my eyes
Making me want to scream
Letting out everything
Confused, Worried
Will this magic come out?
Come beneaht me
Raging through out the world
Raging beneath me...
poem by Karima Puzon
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Nowhere Left To Stand!
angels made of dust,
stray dogs, homeless children.
righteousness invades,
who forgives the forgiven?
the hands on the clock prophesy,
and the darkness demands.
god stares back from the mirror,
moves with human hands.
empty houses on fire,
empty hearts strike with fear.
and all that remains,
words spoken, unseen tears.
pay the cost of the choice,
pay the price of a life.
but you cannot learn to live,
till you learn how to die!
faces without names,
names written in the sand.
praying for deliverance,
with nowhere left to stand.
when hatred takes form,
the identity revealed.
what we cannot bear to touch,
and wont admit we feel.
the candle burns on the table,
the self walks before.
we have to free ourselves,
before we unlock the door!
faces without names,
names written in the sand.
praying for deliverance,
with nowhere left to stand!
praying for deliverance,
with nowhere left to stand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Good Time
Time was once just a clock to me
And life was just a book a biography
Success was something you just had to be
And I would spend myself unknowingly
And you know that I could have me a million more friends
And all Id have to lose is my point of view
But I had no idea what a good time would cost
Till last night when I sat and talked with you.
An apple will spoil if its been abused
A candle disappears when its been used
A rainbow may follow up a hurricane
And I cant leave forever on a train
And you know that Id survive if I never spoke again
And all Id have to lose is my vanity
But I had no idea what a good time would cost
Till last night when you sat and talked with me.
You can smile for the lack of something else to do
And no one will laugh and point a finger at you
If your tears didnt always make me feel so bad
Would you still cry every time that you felt sad?
I thought Id heard and seen enough to get along
Till you said something neither of us knew
And I had no idea what a good time would cost
Till last night when I sat and talked with you.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blind
Signs
Signs are lost
Signs disappeared
Turn invisible
Got no sign
Somebody got busted
Got a face of stone
And a ghostwritten biography
Dogs start to run in,
Hungry for some food
Dogs start a-twitching
And theyre looking at you
It was light
By five
Torn all apart
All in the name of democracy
Hes hurt
Hes dying
Claimed he was a terrorist
Claimed to avert a catastrophe
Someone shoulda told him
That the buck stops here
No one ever said
That he was involved with thieves
And theyre blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
No sense of harmony, no sense of time,
Dont mention harmony,
Say: what is it? what is it? what is it?
Give a little shock, and he raises his hand
Somebody shouts out,
Says: what is it? what is it? what is it?
He was shot down in the night!
Peopple ride by but his bodys still alive
The girl in the window what has she done?
She looks down at me ...
Says: i dont want to die!
And Im blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Somebody could have told us where they go
Crawling all around looking for foot, foot, footprints
Now tell me what the hell have we become?
Some dirty little bastards what the hell is going on? u
No sense of harmony, no sense of time,
Dont mention harmony,
Say: what is it? what is it? what is it?
Give a little shock, and he raises his hand
Somebody shouts out,
Says: what is it? what is it? what is it?
He was shot down in the night!
People ride by but his bodys still alive
The girl in the window what has she done? she looks down at me ...
Says: i dont want to die!
Theyre blind and theyre blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
Blind, blind
Blind, blind, blind, blind, blind
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When A Blind Man Cries
If youre leaving close the door.
Im not expecting people anymore.
Hear me grieving, Im lying on the floor.
Whether Im drunk or dead I really aint too sure.
Im a blind man, Im a blind man and my world is pale.
When a blind man cries, lord, you know there aint no sadder tale.
Had a friend once in a room,
Had a good time but it ended much too soon.
In a cold month in that room
We found a reason for the things we had to do.
Im a blind man, Im a blind man, now my room is cold.
When a blind man cries, lord, you know he feels it from his soul.
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire In The Sky
All alone in a sleepless night
Passing time with a runaway moon
talkin' to myself
Wishing I was somewhere else
It's been too long since I held you girl
Twice a thousand miles
But my heart won't beat alone
I need the love I left behind
Hold back the dawn awhile
This will all work out
Don't let this dream die
There's a fire in the sky
It's like the light in your eyes
Thinkin' of you
And I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love again
Now the night is dark with diamonds
And I'm standing inside the rain
Giving up your love
Was the worst mistake I made
There's a sound I hear in the distance
Seems it's calling out my name
Well I'll pay most any price
I just hope I'm not too late
Turn back the clock awhile
Things will all work out
That's what the dream is all about
There's a fire in the sky
It's like the light in your eyes
Oh, it's true
That I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love
Turn back the clock awhile
Things will all work out
That's what the dream is all about
I see a fire in the sky
Just like the light in your eyes
Thinkin' of you
That I won't give up till your in my arms
Never give up till what's lost is found
Won't give up on your sweet, sweet love
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wish I Was Wrong
I never saw it coming
Learned the hard way love is blind
but you can't deny the bitter truth
when its right before your eyes
But I wish, I was wrong
Your love for me is gone
I know beyond a doubt
Theres no use in hanging on
but I wish I was wrong
The world trembled there beneath me
It was more then i could stand
That you'd take comfort in the arms of another man
I searched my heart for answers
I looked deep down in my soul
from denial to revelation
that i'd have to let you go
But I wish, I was wrong
Your love for me is gone
I know beyond a doubt
Theres no use in hanging on
but I wish I was wrong
yes I wish I was wrong
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Its Not A Song
Day turns to night, and I turn into bed.
Cant get to sleep; somethings in my head.
Pacing the floor, I try to force a rhyme.
Why do I fear this time?
Its not a song till it touches your heart.
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Now close your eyes; look into your hand.
What do you see?
Life is our song, to give and learn to take.
Time will not wait.
Oh, wont you please come dance,
While the songs still playing,
Wont be long till the silence falls.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
Its not a song till it touches your heart. (its not a song.)
Its not a song till it tears you apart.
After whats left of whats right and whats wrong,
Till it gets through to you,
Its not a song.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom Rant, Part Two... (For Greg And Terence)
socialism, existentialism,
the pages are revealed.
patriot lies, god dies,
unmarked graves in a field.
the addict weeps, cold hard streets,
poverty has a heavy hand.
discrimination, salvation,
leaving footprints where we stand.
single mothers, live for another,
food stamps and minimum wage.
desperate young men, without a friend,
commit acts of senseless rage.
the prisons turn, the money earned,
fills the bellies of greed.
children taught to kill, against their will,
to survive, to feed the need.
those who slept with goats, and came in boats,
to steal the land of the free.
buried the bones, beneath time and stone,
became written history.
now the sins of the past, come due at last,
the slaves rise against the lie.
feet cross the line, eyes read the signs,
for it's liberty or die!
the farms foreclosed, bankers pick their noses,
the factories shut down...
streets filled with ghosts, businesses closed,
nothing left but the sound.
of family trees, brought to their knees,
and babies born in empty rooms.
where roaches crawl, blood spattered walls,
black eyes, needles and spoons.
while Bibles scream, in human dreams,
of the gospel of flesh and bone.
suicides, mass genocides,
stones stacked upon stones.
hungry faces, leave human traces,
on words spoken without a voice.
beneath the gun, dare we stand or run,
we stand before our choice.
Fox News, for those who refuse,
to feel anything at all.
whose bloodless hands, sign time's demands,
on the dawning of the fall.
the guns of war, as ignorance roars,
but who falls victim to this day?
backs turned too long, hearts turned to stone,
is it too late to pray?
nay, i say! another way!
one chance to make a difference...
for it is this act, taking dignity back,
that is the cost of our forgiveness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Blind Rower
And since he rowed his father home,
His hand has never touched an oar.
All day he wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the swishing foam.
Though blind from birth, he still could row
As well as any lad with sight;
And knew strange things that none may know
Save those who live without the light.
When they put out that Summer eve
To sink the lobster-pots at sea,
The sun was crimson in the sky;
And not a breath was in the sky;
The brooding, thunder-laden sky,
That, heavily and wearily,
Weighed down upon the waveless sea
That scarcely seamed to heave.
The pots were safely sunk; and then
The father gave the word for home:
He took the tiller in his hand,
And, in hi s heart already home,
He brought her nose round towards the land,
To steer her straight for home.
He never spoke,
Nor stirred again:
A sudden stroke,
And he lay dead,
With staring eyes, and lips off lead.
The son rowed on, and nothing feared:
And sometimes, merrily,
He lifted up his voice, and sang,
Both high and low,
And loud and sweet:
For he was ever gay at sea,
And ever glad to row,
And rowed as only blind men row:
And little did the blind lad know
That death was at his feet:
For still he thought his father steered;
Nor knew that he was all alone
With death upon the open sea.
So merrily, he rowed, and sang:
And, strangely on the silence rang
That lonely melody,
As, through the livid, brooding gloam,
By rock and reef, he rowed for home--
The blind man rowed the dead man home.
But, as they neared the shore,
He rested on his oar:
And, wondering that his father kept
So very quiet in the stern,
He laughed, and asked him if he slept;
And vowed he heard him snore just now.
Though, when his father spoke no word,
A sudden fear upon him came:
And, crying on his father's name,
With flinching heart, he heard
The water lapping on the shore;
And all his blood ran cold, to feel
The shingle grate beneath the keel:
And stretching over towards the stern,
His knuckle touched the dead man's brow.
But help was near at hand;
And safe he came to land:
Though none has ever known
How he rowed in, alone,
And never touched a reef.
Some say they saw the dead man steer--
The dead man steer the blind man home--
Though, when they found him dead,
His hand was cold as lead.
So, ever restless, to and fro,
In every sort of weather,
The blind lad wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the foam.
His hand has never touched an oar,
Since they came home together--
The blind, who rowed his father home--
The dear, who steered his blind son home.
poem by Wilfred Wilson Gibson
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Sounds Of The Earth
i feel the sounds of the earth,
cant say how or why!
the hurtling swagger of rivers,
the deep bass stillness of mountains.
the whispered longing of the trees,
dancing naked in moonlight.
the hymn of the grasses,
calling forth life.
the groan of the earth,
just turned by the plow!
i hear the reggae beat of the cities,
the hum of movement and work.
the chords of factories and mills,
the horns blown by the shops.
even the hollow beat
of business, of buy and sell.
and the low gutteral moan,
of the homeless, jobless, and lost.
feet without names,
marching without direction.
the cries of young children
afraid and hungry in the night.
the bang of the idol chasers,
the wranglers, and the pimps...
some working the market,
some working the parish.
i hear the sounds of the demons,
that cry war in the night.
that bang the bloody drums
of patriotism and fear.
i hear the sounds of the guns,
the thunder of the bombs.
the last prayers of young men,
dying alone in their fear.
i hear the shuffle of the money,
the boots beneath the table.
i hear the sound of the shovels,
digging grave after grave.
i hear the pen on the page,
as history is written,
in a book that not even
hell could contain!
i hear the churning of stomachs,
the grating of bones.
the tremble beneath
paper thin flesh.
i hear bare feet on the road,
the poor seeking refuge.
i hear the women weeping
as child after child dies.
and i hear the clank of glasses,
food shoveled on plates.
the shallow laughter,
the hypnotic hum of excess.
the condemning guilt,
food thrown in the trash.
the restless panting of the dogs,
just outside the door.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Cassandra
O Hymen king.
Hymen, O Hymen king,
what bitter thing is this?
what shaft, tearing my heart?
what scar, what light, what fire
searing my eye-balls and my eyes with flame?
nameless, O spoken name,
king, lord, speak blameless Hymen.
Why do you blind my eyes?
why do you dart and pulse
till all the dark is home,
then find my soul
and ruthless draw it back?
scaling the scaleless,
opening the dark?
speak, nameless, power and might;
when will you leave me quite?
when will you break my wings
or leave them utterly free
to scale heaven endlessly?
A bitter, broken thing,
my heart, O Hymen lord,
yet neither drought nor sword
baffles men quite,
why must they feign to fear
my virgin glance?
feigned utterly or real
why do they shrink?
my trance frightens them,
breaks the dance,
empties the market-place;
if I but pass they fall
back, frantically;
must always people mock?
unless they shrink and reel
as in the temple
at your uttered will.
O Hymen king,
lord, greatest, power, might,
look for my face is dark,
burnt with your light,
your fire, O Hymen lord;
is there none left
can equal me
in ecstasy, desire?
is there none left
can bear with me
the kiss of your white fire?
is there not one,
Phrygian or frenzied Greek,
poet, song-swept, or bard,
one meet to take from me
this bitter power of song,
one fit to speak, Hymen,
your praises, lord?
May I not wed
as you have wed?
may it not break, beauty,
from out my hands, my head, my feet?
may Love not lie beside me
till his heat
burn me to ash?
may he not comfort me, then,
spent of all that fire and heat,
still, ashen-white and cool
as the wet laurels,
white, before your feet
step on the mountain-slope,
before your fiery hand
lift up the mantle
covering flower and land,
as a man lifts,
O Hymen, from his bride,
(cowering with woman eyes,) the veil?
O Hymen lord, be kind.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Wish I Was Wrong
I never saw it coming
Learned the hard way love is blind
But you can't deny the bitter truth
When it's right begore your eyes
Chorus:
But I wish I was wrong
Your love for me is gone
I know beyond a doubt there's no use in hanging on
But I wish I was wrong
The world trembled there beneath me
It was more than I could stand
That you'd take comfort in the arms
Of another man
I searched my heart for answers
I looked deep down in my soul
From denial to revelation
That I'd have to let you go
Chorus
Yes, I wish I was wrong
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are We?
the body hanging on the cross,
was bread, medicine, and human...
ears alive, eyes seeing, heart beating,
till the end.
hands open, feet walking,
till driven by nails...
of such is true religion!
are we then any of these things?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Death
To the souls who live beneath our feet
To souls burdened by the dreadful dirt.
When I think of thee my heart beat
My soul to the ground, I feel thy hurt.
Through sympathy I think
Thou know the end of mirth
And life here and what it's worth
Please! speak to me so I may give birth
To thy anguish above on beautiful earth.
Me received no reply but a deep buried sigh…
For the leaden stone covers thy head
The squalid worms live in thy bed
I see thou drink from the roots of flowers
and thy see each one to its final hours.
As time passes
Slumber do thee too
Under the pure white snow
where frigid frost freezes thy bones
into an icy blue
I feel your pain can never move;
a pain no living soul can ever know….
Suddenly I hear a voice murmur from inside of me...
Thou speak quietly while we sleep in peace
And in our memories thou silent voices cease
Till we see a name carved on grave's cement stone
Thou souls beneath remain unknown
My Love reaches the depths of death's dark seat but my life lives upon my light feet... never again will I love, but always shall I live? I hope...
To the souls whom I love beneath my feet
May I tread softly and saunter sweetly as if life's a treat.
Till the death's knight comes again to ravenously eat
My flesh away, then only and then
I swear our souls shall meet again.....
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Walk Inside The Wind...
of war and peace,
Tolstoy wrote,
and Dylan rhymed with angst.
while Woody fought the fascists,
and hopped the midnight train.
Martin spoke for equality,
unafraid of bullets and chains...
and the Kent State students,
stood against unholy war.
mowed down by their own people,
yet nobody's keeping score.
now time immemorial,
calls both the child and man.
for dignity and humanity,
to rise and take a stand.
to hold the truth of open hands,
to see beneath the skin.
to preach the gospel of give a damn,
to walk inside the wind...
and if there be tomorrow,
we must redeem today.
to act from the heart,
to light the dark,
to be the prayers we pray.
for salvation is nothing more,
than the redemption of the soul.
building shelter for the dispossessed,
to fill the hungry bowl.
now time immemorial,
calls both the child and man.
for dignity and equality,
to rise and take a stand.
to hold the truth of open hands,
to see beneath the skin.
to live the gospel of give a damn,
to walk inside the wind...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Halo
And its always little things
That to the surface brings
The comfort in the pain
The fear behind the smile
We lose along the way
The things we leave behind
Along the precipice
Of things we should not climb
And Im the first in line
Theres an anchor around my heart
Dragging me down
Beneath the waves in silence I fall
Theres a halo above my head
Spinning me round
cause I dont know if Im alive or dead
A dagger in my hand
Bleeding me dry
And its always little things
That to the surface brings
The space you need to breathe
Before the curtain call
The light that leads the way
Before you hit the wall
The mountain that you climb
Just to take a fall
For blind among the blind
Theres an anchor around my heart
Dragging me down
Beneath the waves in silence I fall
Theres a halo above my head
Spinning me round
cause I dont know if Im alive or dead
Theres a dagger in my hand
Bleeding me dry
And all we have to lose is time
And what lose we leave behind
Stay around and we will shine
song performed by by Oleander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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