En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Courtroom Is Empty

the courtroom is empty,
the gavel untouched.
no hands on the book,
no jury of twelve.
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)

small children killed, tossed in the trash,
women abused, old people hungry, alone.
young girls sold into slavery
young boys sold into war
homeless ghosts walk the halls,
without hope in man or God.

and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)

an American tragedy,
or just human tragedy.
justice bought and sold,
afforded by just the few.
the wheels of Wall Street turn,
politicians barter with lives.
drinking the blood of the babies
that will never be born!

the takers keep taking,
and the honest man falls
to die nameless in the ditch,
covered by ashes and dust.

and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air.
(the hands of the clock
have stopped!)

the courtroom is empty

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Around And Around

I say the joint was rockin'
a goin' 'round and round
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
Well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Twelve o'clock
Well the place as packed
Front doors was locked
Well the place was packed
When the police knocked
Both doors flew back
But they kept on rocking
Rockin' Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
A well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Oh it sounds so sweet I gotta take me a chance
Rose out of my seat I just had to dance
Started movin' my feet well a clappin' my hands
Well the joint started
Rockin' Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
A well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Twelve o'clock
Well the place as packed
Oh twelve o'clock
Well the place was packed
When the police knocked
Ouh Both doors flew back
Mama they kept on rocking
Rockin' Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
They never stopped never stopped never stopped never stopped never stopped
rockin' till the moon went down
( Repeat 'til the end

song performed by by Led Zeppelin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do They Come Clean?

at the end of the day,
when we wash our hands,
do they come clean?

homeless people, young girls
sold on the block,
hungry children, AIDS victims,
gotta watch your stocks.

black and white, brown and red,
gunfire and poverty;
kids afraid to go to school,
aint no profit in honesty.

SUV's, invaded countries,
oil doesnt buy liberty.
the takers take, the hurting weep,
at the cost of dignity.

politicians lie, preachers sell
narrow minded philosophies.
prisons full, bodies in the street,
the faces of reality.

smoke fills the air, oil fills the seas,
trade the future for the fix.
unemployed standing in line,
faceless numbers, brick upon brick.

close your door, shut your windows,
turn up the sound....
of anger, despair, and loss....
cries for help as they drown...

tell me....

at the end of the day,
when we wash our hands,
do they come clean?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ashes, Dirt, and Wicker

dead bird lying
in a wicker cage.
hands on the old clock...
...... stopped!

train tracks that tremor,
and nothing comes.
you cant build a fire
in ashes....

look back. the fields
behind you are brown,
and barren...
the memory of rows
gone back to dirt...

just dirt!

the stranger at the door
never speaks, never asks,
never waits for you
to gather yourself...

words lose their form
and fall like raindrops
that disappear into thirst...

thirst, that creates anew,
and never remembers falling!

ashes to ashes... remember,
you cant build a fire
in ashes...

dead bird lying
in a wicker cage...
hands on the old clock...
....... stopped!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empty Hands

He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money

But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands

They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands

In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Round And Round

Well, the joint was rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
Well it sounded so sweet
I had to take me a chance
I rose out of my seat
And had to dance
I started moving my feet
And clapping my hands
Yeah, we kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
About twelve o'clock
When the place was packed
The front doors were locked
I said the place was packed
When the police knocked
Those doors flew back
But kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
Yeah
About twelve o'clock
Around lock up time
Well, the doors were locked
Said the place was packed
When the police knocked
Those doors flew back
But it kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down
Yeah, it kept on rocking
Going round 'n' round
Yeah, reeling and a-rocking
What a crazy sound
Well, they never stopped rocking
'Til the moon went down

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dreamed.... (Hands)

i dreamed last night...
and all i could see were hands.
sometimes hard and calloused,
sometimes soft and feminine.
skilled hands, laborer's hands,
loving hands, nurturing hands....
fingers digging in the dirt,
fingers holding a pen.
fingers playing a piano,
fingers unbuttoning blouses.

hands extended, hands gripping the rope,
hands holding the shovel,
hands covered with resin.
hands folded in prayer,
hands balled into fists.
hands stuffed in empty pockets.
hands that define both history,
and destiny!

hands scarred and bruised,
hands covered with age spots.
hands that speak many languages.
hands that know mistakes, and failures.
hands that built fires,
hands that put fires out!
hands that wiped away tears,
that picked up trash,
and revealed souls....

whose hands?
my hands, your hands?
god's hands?
does it really matter?
hands engaged and involved,
in the very act of living!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ashes For Justice!

when i die,
you can burn
this body,
and take the ashes
to the street
down in front of
the housing projects,
where people live
day to day,
moment to moment,
just trying to survive...

or you can take them
to the countries ravaged
by starvation,
and pour them out
on the side of the road
where families are dying...

or you can take them
to any street corner
in the world, where young
boys and girls are sold like meat,
and take your hands
and rub them on their ashen faces...

or you can take them
to Washington, DC,
to where the Congress
is meeting, and pour them
on the floor, each tiny flake
of ash screaming out for justice!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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People In Love

People in love do funny things
Walk under buses and burn their wings
People like us do nothing right
Talk to the ceiling into the night
Look at the smile in her eyes
I knew I was right in my bones
I feel the turnin of wheels as it grows
Look at my face in her eyes
Am I right, am I wrong
Shes given me butterflies all along
Ooh sitting alone in the dark
Ooh feeling you close to me
Were in a dream
But the hands on the clock seem to know
Tell me its time to go
People in love play silly games
Running in circles and everywhere
People like us can make believe
Love is forever and Ill never be
Ooh sitting alone in the dark
Ooh feeling you close to me
Were in a dream
But the hands on the clock seem to know
Tell us its time to go

song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breath! Breath out!

A moment of silence.
Breath out!
There is nothing to say aloud.
Reflection of passion in the eyes.
Breath!
There is no time to realize.
They quickly open the door lock.
Breath out!
They look at the clock.
Endless kiss in the hall.
Breath!
Don’t fall!
The sound of falling ring.
Breath out!
Ding, ding!
The smell of electricity on the skin.
Breath!
Who will win?
A certain expression on his face.
Breath out!
It’s not a race.
Fulfilling with ecstasy two glasses.
Breath!
They are full of fantasies.
Not clear whispers of wet lips.
Breath out!
You are not VIPs.
The hasty movements of two lightings.
Breath!
They are fighting.
One is tender, another one is rude.
Breath out!
One is not so cute.
Rocking hands of the clock.
Breath!
Don’t get a shock!
As… one is released,
another one is not.
Take a deep breath!
As… here is a dot.

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A Chase

At one hot noon, in the month of Ramadan,
A huge crowd of men and women,
Young and old, in crude dresses,
Looked to the same direction
With fretful faces and grim eyes.
All of sudden they began to run,
As if they were partaking Marathon Race.
Then they stopped out of breath,
Their chests were heaving,
A pause ensued and again they began to run,
They stopped again out of breath
With heaving chests,
And drops of sweat dropping down.

As my van overtook the crowed I beheld,
They were the denizens of my country,
The voters of my dear land,
Being gamed in the hands of politicians,
They held red currency notes,
And chased a truck of flour.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Longer Free

angry people standing up,
marching, joining hands....
the taste of the lie,

gone bitter.
unholy wars,
corporate greed....

slavery rears its ugly head,
taking different forms.
greed takes the future,

and barters for oil.
the hands of the masses,
empty and hungry!

those who stood silent
and took it all without a whimper,
now have had enough!

while the barkers yell,
it's un-American, it's wrong!
counting back change

into the beggars cups.
the threat of the new wave
of Mccarthyism fear

beats protestors with billy clubs,
and gases young girls!
and the anger grows,

the anger grows....
the calloused hands of
working men and women,

clenched tight, preparing
for the fight... the last stand
of liberty in this land....

no longer free!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bought And Sold

Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.

Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.

Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.

Excesses on the cheapness of life,
Has made a weakness increase...
And,
Bought and sold.

Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold.
Too many given anything.
Just to say they've gotten a piece,
To be...
Bought and sold.

Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.

Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.

Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.

Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.

Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Just...
To sell.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Around And Around

They say the joint was rockin'
a goin' 'round and round
Yeah reelin' and a rockin'
What a crazy sound
But you never stopped rockin'
Till the moon went down
Though it sounds so sweet
I hadda take me a chance
I rose out of my seat
I just had to dance
Started movin' my feet
Yeah clappin' my hands, Alright
But you kept on rockin'
Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin'
What a crazy sound
But you never stopped rockin'
Till the moon went down
I said Twelve o'clock
I say the place as packed
The front doors was locked
I say the place was packed
When the police knocked
Both doors flew back
Chorus twice

song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fogging Up The Windows

the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray

the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past

can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'

life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...

the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same

can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'

life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For All of These, and More

for every daughter aborted
in China because sons
are preferred...
for every young girl or boy
sold into slavery here
in the states...
for every whale killed
by the Japanese ships...
for every expanse of ocean
filled with our oil...
for every tree cut
by the saws of greed...
for every woman and child
working in sweatshops...
for every political prisoner
that we ignore...
for every homeless person
in the 'land of the free'...
for every kid in jail
who never had a chance...
for every old person
left alone to die...
for every family in Africa
left to starvation....
for every plate of food
thrown out, wasted mindlessly.
for every mountain raped
by the miner's hands...
for every kid that is different,
that is abused and beaten...
for everyone killed in our
money driven wars...

for all of these, and more...
i ask forgiveness, as
a member of the human family.
for all of these, and more,
i take responsibility.
for all of these, and more,
i choose to live today...

with an involved hope
for tomorrow!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Around And Around

They say the joint was rockin'
a goin' 'round and round
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
Well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Oh it sounds so sweet I gotta take me a chance
Rose out of my seat just had to dance
Started movin' my feet well a clappin' my hands
Well the joint started
Rockin' Going 'Round and around
Yeah reelin' and a rockin' what a crazy sound
A well they never stopped rockin' till the moon went down
Twelve o'clock
Well the place as packed
Front doors was locked
Well the place was packed
When the police knocked
Both doors flew back
But they kept on a ....
Oh they kept on a....

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Desperation!

he had a gun in his hand;
his hand was shaking...
i looked into his eyes

as he reached for the till.
i could see the faces of
his woman, and his children....

could feel the hungry murmur
of their waiting in the darkness.
could smell his fear,

maybe even my own....
could hear the siren
of the coming blue...

cold desperation....
the hands on the clock,
stopped!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Could Turn Back The Hand Of Time

How did I ever let you slip away
Never knowing I'd be singing this song some day
And now I'm sinking, sinking to rise no more
Ever since you closed the door
[1] - If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then my darlin' you'd still be mine
If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then darlin' you, you'd still be mine
Funny, funny how time goes by
And blessings are missed in the wink of an eye
Why oh why oh why should one have to go on suffering
When every day I pray please come back to me
[Repeat 1]
And you had enough love for the both of us
But I, I, I did you wrong, I admit I did
But now I'm facing the rest of my life alone, whoa
[Repeat 1]
I'd never hurt you (If I could turn back)
Never do you wrong (If I could turn back)
And never leave your side (If I could turn back)
If I could turn back the hands
There'd be nothing I wouldn't do for you
(If I could turn back)
Forever honest and true to you
(If I could turn back)
If you accept me back in your heart, I love you
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
That would be my will
(If I could turn back)
Darlin' I'm begging you to take me by the hands
(If I could turn back the hands)
I'm going down, yes I am
(If I could turn back)
Down on my bended knee, yeah
(If I could turn back)
And I'm gonna be right there until you return to me
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
If I could just turn back that little clock on the wall
(If I could turn back)
Then I'd come to realize how much I love you
Love you love you love you
(If I could turn back the hands)

song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Own Small Store

he's just an old man...
working behind the counter
of his own small store
for forty years...

the young toughs
kept robbing him...
grabbing stuff off the shelves
and running...

threatening him,
and the old woman...
till they lived in fear
day and night...

then they went too far!
coming across the counter
and grabbing him by the collar:
'give me the money, old man! '

quick, and sudden,
the gunshot rings out...
the young tough falls
to the floor in a
puddle of blood...

now the old man's going to court
for excessive use of force,
and an unregistered handgun...

to the halls of justice,
sterile and cold...
the stench of dignity dying
fills the air...

and the hands on the clock
cant be turned back!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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