Martyrs!
martyrs...
silently trudging head down
to the promised land.
familiar?
a neighbor, a forgotten uncle,
the stranger you saw on the corner;
the faces...
bombing victims in the Middle East,
hungry children on foreign soils,
the kid picked up for looking suspicious.
the bullied kid that hung himself,
the family living in the backseat
of a car in Florida.
the tired eyed man standing
in the unemployment line.
the protesters, and the cops
with pepper spray and clubs...
the face of the young boy taken
from his drug addict parents...
bodies and faces,
souls wrapped in dirty flesh.
silently trudging,
martyrs!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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One Hundred Lit Candles
sitting alone in an empty room,
surrounded by one hundred lit candles...
slowly, one by one,
naming them,
blowing them out!
hunger, apathy, pride,
poverty, prejudice,
sorrow, despair, greed...
self image, self fullfilment,
ownership, anger, judgement,
righteous indignation...
the stranger on the street corner,
the soldiers standing across the line.
the protestors carrying signs,
the pale faces behind
the covered window...
the preacher and the addict,
the whore, and the convict.
the young unwed mother,
the child crying in the night.
the young gay boy who hung himself,
those who stood and jeered...
the out of work factory worker,
face down in a corner bar.
my neighbor, my enemy, my brother,
and the ghosts that haunt my night.
empty graves and unmarked stones...
and more...
blowing them out!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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O My Soul...
where have you gone,
o my soul...
where have you gone?
are you lost in the tears
of a thousand faces
blackened by hunger?
in the cries of the dying?
of the homeless?
in the defiant feet
of those standing in line?
the unemployment line?
the soup line?
the line just outside
the prison walls?
in the lover left desperate,
who takes his own life?
in the students beaten,
who stood up for freedom?
in the young man hated,
for the color of his skin?
in the young woman sold
on the lonesome street corner?
in the windowless offices
where lives and deaths are decided?
in the hole behind the gun,
eyes hard as steel?
in the bare apartment,
where the children are cold and hungry?
on the corner, 'neath the bridge,
in the back of the car?
where have you gone,
o my soul...
where have you gone?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Have Seen Hatred In Your Eyes
I have seen hatred in your eyes,
Perhaps, you are seeing the same.
We are in front, we are not friend.
You may shot me dead now,
I can do that either....
They will box us up,
To send to our home.
Our parents will not shed tear,
As they are the parents of martyrs.
The bellicose war-mongers
Will sit to final their deal...
Our wives will weep silently,
Children' blank head may not feel,
They have become orphan!
Our scornful look will be dull,
Nothing to express, or to watch!
Love for our country will be
Celebrated with the bugle,
Guard of Honor, awards!
Let's show our love for our
Own respective countries! !
poem by Nilakshi Das
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I am suffering from insomnia
I am suffering from insomnia
I spend sleepless nights.
The cry of a newborn baby,
abandoned in Ramna Park,
renders Sukantu’s declaration a lie.
Sitting on the sidewalk, under the shade of a banyan tree,
near the Ministry of Foreign Affairs
who is she, begging with pale sad eyes?
A tired hungry child cries,
his hands clutching her shoulders.
As I look at her why does the face
of an Afghan boy, his face torn
by cluster bomb, rise before my eyes?
Why do I see the faces of young people,
children and old women,
wildly running in every direction?
why do I see so many coffins
full of martyrs’ corpses?
why is these such a long procession of tears?
When I see such things,
tell me, please, how can I go to sleep?
The cries of my brother, the cries of my mother
break my heart.
I know, the frightened shriek
of a young maiden
will not stop their air raids.
We know, the tears of the gecko
did not stop the fire’s holocaust.
Yet it is true that these days
I do not sleep well.
A mighty migraine performs a sacred ritual
inside my head
and prays for sorrow and pain.
------
poem by Shafiqul Islam
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Black And White! (Spirits And Flesh)
black and white,
not different kinds of souls,
merely skin tints!
Americans, and Middle
Eastern people,
worship...
not different gods,
but different understandings
of the same god!
and common people,
all around the world,
have worked too long,
for too little,
are tired of being numbers,
numbers without faces!
tired on being enslaved,
being treated as possessions....
for they have faces!
faces with hearts,
hearts with spirits,
spirits made of flesh!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Old Man & Me
Well an old man said to me
In a voice filled with pain
Where you going young man
Said I'm going to fight a war
Gonna fight for my country
In some foreign land
He said "The sun will never hurt you
Never harmed anyone
But you must realize"
If you try to stare her down
She will win in the end
She will burn your eyes
She will burn them
Seen a million places
Seen a million faces die
And I wonder who will walk with me
When I get to Heaven
He said "Boy I was young once
Yeah I was tough
Sailing on Uncle Sam's boat
Hey I could kill the enemy
I could die on foreign streets
But I could not vote
But now you walk by me
You won't talk to me
Say this is my fate
But every time you walk the streets boy
Most of them you meet
You see it's you they hate
It's you...
Seen a million faces
Seen a million places die
And I wonder who will walk with me
When I get to Heaven
I hope I get there
Seen a million places
Seen a million faces die
And I wonder who will walk with me
When I get there
See this woman sitting next to me
She's been there for a long, long time
And when I fell, she picked me up
When I cried, she wiped my tears
I thank god she's mine
And when I leave this world
She won't have anything
But her love for me
Cause the man took everything else
Made me hate myself
So just let her be boy
Won't you let her be
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Man & Me
Well an old man said to me
In a voice filled with pain
Where you going young man
Said i'm going to fight a war
Gonna fight for my country
In some foreign land
He said "the sun will never hurt you
Never harmed anyone
But you must realize"
If you try to stare her down
She will win in the end
She will burn your eyes
She will burn them
Seen a million places
Seen a million faces die
And i wonder who will walk with me
When i get to heaven
He said "boy i was young once
Yeah i was tough
Sailing on uncle sam's boat
Hey i could kill the enemy
I could die on foreign streets
But i could not vote
But now you walk by me
You won't talk to me
Say this is my fate
But every time you walk the streets boy
Most of them you meet
You see it's you they hate
It's you...
Seen a million faces
Seen a million places die
And i wonder who will walk with me
When i get to heaven
I hope i get there
Seen a million places
Seen a million faces die
And i wonder who will walk with me
When i get there
See this woman sitting next to me
She's been there for a long, long time
And when i fell, she picked me up
When i cried, she wiped my tears
I thank god she's mine
And when i leave this world
She won't have anything
But her love for me
cause the man took everything else
Made me hate myself
So just let her be boy
Won't you let her be
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Are (My Children)
standing in line at the mission,
they're ladeling bowls of steaming soup.
the winter wind whips down
between the buildings like a knife...
pulling tattered coats tight hunching.
and i can hear Shantideva whisper,
his hand on the ladel...
his body the meat of the soup,
his blood the broth...
'these are my children! '....
they walk in long staggered lines,
refugees from the bombing...
hungry scared children clinging,
afarid to lose sight of...
what's left of their families.
nothing behind, and nowhere to go,
not on any side...
and i can hear Jesus whisper,
His life the torch that lights the way,
His body the shelter against the night,
His blood the water, His hands stir the rice...
'these are My children! '....
the addict shivers, strung out and desperate...
the homeless family huddles in the car.
the young prisoner sleepless with the fear,
the old man going hungry feeds his bedridden wife...
the jobless young father begs to pick up trash...
and i know beyond all doubt,
my body, my soul, my spirit...
the wind that hears their cry.
'for these are my children! '...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lost
Searching in the crowd
For a resemblance
To no avail
No familiar faces
I once loved
A forbidden love
Oceans separated you from me
Virtually all familiar faces gone
I roam the dessert of life
Feeling all alone
Like a blind man searching
For a familiar face
The sound of your voice
The ringing of laughter shared
Of familiar faces
Barren, empty bossom
Swallowed by the dessert of life
All familiar faces
Passed with time...
06.07.2012
poem by Persian Khushi
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Howl (The Returning)
black eyed, hungry teeth,
souls drawn tight through a needle.
displaced, desolate,
lives packed on borrowed trucks.
padlocked doors, Wall Street roars,
dead soldiers coming home.
street corners, somebody's daughter,
selling shadows wrapped in dreams.
religious freaks, hangman's noose,
dark glasses see only white!
Christians and Muslims, russian roulette,
hollow threats and doomsday lies.
starving children, doors locked,
faces turned away.!
oil rigs pumping, dry humping,
the earth screams, 'it's rape'!
protesters marching, riot squads,
take away your rights.
prisons full, hard degrees,
anger has a price!
lovers meet, passion burns,
scars left by point of change.
wild eyed addicts, guns in hand,
taking what they need.
the righteous wake, it's too late,
their enemies their brothers.
mountains crumble, trees fall,
rivers full of sludge.
war cries, patriot lies,
grease the grimy wheel.
suffocate, dedicate,
dead bodies to the ground.
faceless rise, tired of lies,
too damned hungry to care.
common folk, dressed in black,
lift unspoken prayers!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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You, Your Face and Your Many Faces
you and your face
you and your many faces
i never clarify your other face
because you build a siege
with your many faces
your many faces have a heart of liar
little facet of your tricky mind
you and your many faces
your face not to be someone's follower
your face to be the queen of yourself
you and your face
you don't need to show your inner face
your many faces will play the pace
and no one resist your easily fake face
your face and your many faces
if those two are not good enough
to get me
what will you take to become your face?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Peace Song
Now everybodys looking for a little peace of mind
Were a generation running out of time
Theres a bomb, theres a man
Theres a gun in his hand yeah
Nobody smiles at strangers were scared from birth
Afraid the mans gonna take us for all that were worth
Strip us of our pride
Make a strike from inside
Come on and tell me
How long will we be victims of fear
With a man and a gun and the day after fear
Jesus smile down upon your children
Smile down upon your family
Even lovers have trouble at hand
Whats your preference where do you stand
You get all uptight about it
Wanna fight about it
Wanna fight about love
No no no
Wanting independence separate but equal
A lover here another there
One more for the sequel to the heartache
How much more can we take
Wont you tell me
How long will we be victims of fear
With a man and a gun and the day after fear
Jesus smile down upon your children
Smile down upon your family
Now Im talking about
Altruism and unification
We forgotten what that means
Cynicism in this mighty nation
And hatred is spitting us right at the seams
Oh but I still believe that good will prevail
And if we dont ever try
Its damn sure that well fail
Lose another day
The american way
So come all believers
Come all races
Start looking at the souls
Not at the faces
And were there
And were learning to care
I want to know baby
How long will we be victims of fear
With a man and a gun and the day after fear
Jesus smile down upon your children
Smile down upon your family
Jesus smile down upon your children
Smile down upon your family
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Familiar Faces
I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces--
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
poem by Charles Lamb
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The Burial in the Snow
How well do I remember
Of a burial in the snow,
On a winter's evening
Some fifteen years ago;
The ground was covered over
With the beautiful crystal snow,
And it glistened in the moonlight,
Like diamonds all aglow.
It was a pleasant evening,
That merry Christmas eve;
And I never can forget, how
The frost hung on the tree.
The moon was shining clearly,
And the sleigh-bells rang so sweet;
Ah, it was splendid sleighing,
The snow was two feet deep.
My grandparents were living
Some two miles then away,
My parents went to see them,
To spend the holiday.
I went with my kind parents,
For the evening was sublime,
To see dear aunts and uncles,
And have a merry time,
I saw the beaming faces
Of my grandparents dear,
As they met us on the door-step,
With welcome words of cheer.
In fancy I can see them
As in the days of yore,
When they welcome home their children
Through the old familiar door.
The banquet board that evening,
Was filled with cake and wine,
Delicious fruits and oysters
That came from foreign clime.
It was a merry party
That met once more to roam,
My grandparents were happy,
Their children were all home.
Grandpapa said, "dear children,
Lay the tea things aside,
And some of you get ready
To take a pleasant ride.
The moon is shining clearly,
The evening is sublime,
O'er the crystal snow we'll glide,
And have a jolly time."
Hats and cloaks were soon put on,
By those who wish to go,
They were wrapped up snug and warm,
For a sleigh ride o'er the snow.
Their hearts were light and gleeful,
They rode away with ease,
I never can forget them,
Or that merry Christmas eve.
On that beautiful evening,
They rode five miles away,
O'er hills, and dales, and frozen snow,
With prospects bright and gay.
They came to their journey's end,
And soon were homeward bound,
A more joyous, happy band
Was nowhere to be found,
The merry sleigh bells ringing
Out on the midnight air,
And merry voices singing
All "right side up with care! "
The horses were high-spirited,
They ran away, and lo!
Broke loose from the sleigh, and left
It buried in the snow.
The people of that party
Lay scattered all around,
Some were frightened, others laughed,
To think it happened so,
That the end of their sleigh ride
Was a burial in the snow.
Yet they were gay and happy,
The bright moon o'er them shone,
And laughing o'er their sleigh ride,
They all went trudging home.
Some of those friends are dead and gone,
That met in that old home,
And never will we meet again,
Around that dear hearth stone.
poem by Julia A Moore
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I Am (More)
i am, become...
i am the tear on the cheek
of the child sleeping alone.
i am the fear on the face
of the young couple
who have nowhere to turn.
i am the bullet loaded
into the gun held by shaking hands.
i am the family Bible
packed away in a closet forgotten.
i am the Muslim man
treated with contempt...
i am the sheriff of a small town,
and the meth lab busted.
i am the trailer burning,
the family that just got out.
i am the cancer patient
who has no insurance.
i am the picket line, the pepper spray,
the reporter struck silent.
i am the young kid working
the late shift in a convenience store.
i am the empty grave,
the eviction notice on the door....
i am thunder, i am lightning,
i am America's moan...
i am, become...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Beggar Lad—dies early
717
The Beggar Lad—dies early—
It's Somewhat in the Cold—
And Somewhat in the Trudging feet—
And haply, in the World—
The Cruel—smiling—bowing World—
That took its Cambric Way—
Nor heard the timid cry for "Bread"—
"Sweet Lady—Charity"—
Among Redeemed Children
If Trudging feet may stand
The Barefoot time forgotten—so—
The Sleet—the bitter Wind—
The Childish Hands that teased for Pence
Lifted adoring—them—
To Him whom never Ragged—Coat
Did supplicate in vain—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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City
Living in tenements
surrounded by stone
Living in cities,
never alone.
Bodies moving,
never standing still.
A pace of living
that peace can't fill.
Shuttered in brownstones,
escaping the poor,
must face them eventually
when leaving their door.
For out in the cement
the faces are there
of each city dweller
that breathes dusty air.
Neons flashing
all through the night,
Never quite absent
from their sight.
Garrish, not soothing
reminders each day
that even at night
they don't go away.
Dog-walkers walking,
drug dealers stalking
smells of the city
never take pity
on the homeless sleeping
on sidewalk grates
while high-tech money men
await their fates.
Entombed in tunnels
like zombies in motion,
faces on subways,
devoid of emotion
doomed to ride
under streets of cement
return at night
to their tenement.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Halsted Street Car
Come you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o’clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.
Take your pencils
And draw these faces.
Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner—his mouth—
That overall factory girl—her loose cheeks.
Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.
After their night’s sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Faces
Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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See All Her Faces
(jim stratton / alexander ryan)
Here she comes
Here she comes
Ribbons flying from her half-forgotten hair
Look at her run
See what the world and love have done
See all her faces
See all her faces
Look in my eyes
That she is me
I cant disguise
See all her faces
Ah, ha, see all her faces
Im looking for someone
Of the gentle kind
Knowing that looks can lie
Looking for someone
Is he there to find?
Or should I run on by, ah, ha
Here she comes
Here she comes
Shadows sadly chasing
Every step she takes
Look at her now
She needs love so much more somehow
See all her faces
See all her faces
Look at my life
The wasted years
Each a knife
See all her faces, ah-ha
See all her faces
Waiting for someone
Who will set me free
Passing the time too fast
Waiting for someone
Is that where hell be?
Or should I run right past? , hmm
There she goes
There she goes
Somehow making me and all her faces sad, oh, oh
Ba, da, ba, da, ba, da, ba, da......
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parking Team
This is where I want to be
Standing in the coldness of winter
Standing in the hotness of summer
Directing traffic
Seeing smiles
Hearing the laughter of children
Seeing the golf cart come by
Full of laughing kids
Seeing the smiles on their faces when the cart comes
That’s what I love about the parking team!
The way I’m able to help everyone brings a smile to my face
I see familiar faces when I drive the golf cart
Those faces, those smiles, those people is what keeps me going
I enjoy every moment on the team
From putting on my vest to calling it a night
I live for those moments
During those times, that’s when I shine
I never let my glow leave
I have fun with parking
Even standing in the rain… it’s fun
This is something that I long to do every week
It’s just for less than four hours
But it’s the best part of my week
I find parking a challenge
You never know what is on its way
It could be a new spot or it could be a new route
Whatever the challenge, I will take it
I will take it and be the best
Nothing and no one will stand in my way
poem by Laura Carie Dalton
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