En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Death Papers.... (Part Two)

i, the body
of earth and wind,
cry for the mountains,
the valleys, and rivers.
i am man,
the warrior naked,
muscled dark and lean.
with eyes borrowed from the hawk,
and hands that turn the ground.
i bear the feet of time determined,
the marks of the whip scar my back.
with hardened phallus,
and panting breath,
i follow the trail of the wolves.
i am woman,
the warrior naked,
long hair swept by the wind.
with eyes borrowed from the owl,
and hands skilled in healing.
i bear the feet of time determined,
the scar of the chains on my wrists.
breasts born with fire,
garden wet with hungry birth,
i am the trail the wolves follow!

and now,
i, the body
lay down my cross,
seed in the furrow,
sunlight waiting
for darkness's goodbye kiss.
for i, the body,
am earth and wind....
mountains, valleys,
and rivers cry for me!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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O'wind

The body is the scar of your mind,
The scar turns into a wind of pain.
It passes mountains after mountains,
It passes the cities and my country.
O'wind, o'wind,
Oh, oh, oh, wind, oh, oh...
Oh, o'wind.
But when it passed the world nine times,
The wind turns into a breeze.
O'wind, oh, oh, oh...
O'wind.
Wind -

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hirake

The body is the scar of your mind,
The scar turns into a wind of pain
It passes mountains after mountains,
It passes the cities and my country
O'wind, o'wind,
Oh, oh, oh, wind, oh, oh
oh, o'wind
But when it passed the world nine times,
The wind turns into a breeze
O'wind, oh, oh, oh
O'wind
Wind

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O'wind

The body is the scar of your mind,
The scar turns into a wind of pain.
It passes mountains after mountains,
It passes the cities and my country.
O'wind, o'wind,
Oh, oh, oh, wind, oh, oh...
Oh, o'wind.
But when it passed the world nine times,
The wind turns into a breeze.
O'wind, oh, oh, oh...
O'wind.
Wind -

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hirake

The body is the scar of your mind,
The scar turns into a wind of pain
It passes mountains after mountains,
It passes the cities and my country
O'wind, o'wind,
Oh, oh, oh, wind, oh, oh
oh, o'wind
But when it passed the world nine times,
The wind turns into a breeze
O'wind, oh, oh, oh
O'wind
Wind

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My God Walks

my god walks naked in the stillness...
her long hair falling in the moonlight.
her bare feet touching the earth,
her lips wet with the dew.
her breasts heave with the coming
and going of the waves...
her eyes shine like lanterns,
her breath bathes the trees...
and in her softness small animals take refuge...
in her growl change is born...
in her desire time is renewed.
and she sings the hymn of dialogue,
and touching, always touching....
she bends down to me and whispers
her hidden name...
while spiders and turtles begin
the work of redemption...
wolves howl, and mountains breathe...
my god takes the hand of the hungry child,
and walks past the point of distance!
while i follow the sound of my own heart,
to the point of nearness!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am..... (Beat Of The Drum)

i am....
the beat of the drum
in the electric hot night.
i am the horn of the bull,
on the streets of Madrid.
i am the bofy naked,
glistening with sweat.
i am tongue and phallus,
teeth and desire's pant!
i am the river surging
through mountains and valleys.
i am the house on fire,
the wail of sirens.
i am the caw of the crow,
the screech of the owl.
i am the cross ablaze,
the lone soldier defiant.
the man at the crossroads,
who wont sell his soul.
i am hate broken,
and secret sins revealed.
i am the heart pain of need,
the wind howling at the window.
i am the moon shot down,
and oceans gone renegade.
i am the prisoner escaped,
and the pursuit of the dogs.
i am the shot fired,
and the body fallen.
i am the torch, the knife,
the scar, and the prayer...
i am! i am!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Warrior's Pledge...

well, i've been to the mountain,
and i've walked through the valleys.
i've stood neath the cross
awaiting my turn.
i've heard the stories of children,
and the stories of old men.
there's not enough difference
for me to discern.

i've been to the battle,
and i've taken it to the streets.
i've been to the place,
where truth and dignity meet.
i've stood naked and alone,
and faced my sins.
i've felt the wrath of god,
known the ignorance of men.

i've worn boots of flesh,
and fought with my hands.
went back into the fire,
to save the last man.
slept with angels and demons alike,
drank the darkness, walked in the light.
found the right in wrong,
and the wrong in right....

as the storm clouds rage
on this face cut by age,
the mountains tremble,
and the rivers rage.
i'll stay to the end,
i'll turn the last page,
then catch a ride to the funeral
on the last stage....

i'll write the words of my heart,
with a pen dripping blood.
i'll cross the last river,
and stomp through the mud.
with the prayers of the children,
and the eyes of the hawk.
to the place of closeness,
where spirits can talk.

and stare deep and unashamed
into God's eyes.
and lay down my journey,
where the soul never dies.
where names be forgotten,
but hands clasp as one.
in the valley of darkness,
at the feet of the sun.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eternal Forests

Fate circles the moon of desire
We are the earth circling time
Her kiss has rivers with deer
Eagles fly over cliffs of granite
Lovers of ember centuries
Past the tears past the fears
The thunder of buffalo herds
Mountain streams like Eden
No armies or galleons
Oak grow as the mighty wind
Our bed has ancestry

Lovers share their dreams
When the land was open
No signs, no ownership
Meadows of stars shine
We are the future laughter
We are the dreams of warriors
They know they must die
They know they must be brave
Feel them in your bright kiss
Passion filled with battles
Feel their canoes along the waters

Your arms are their arms
Kiss your warriors that stand
They are dying for a way of life
Their blood cries from sacred ground
Your eyes like doves
Your dreams of fire and broken arrows
Hold me like a shaman of stolen land
Share your joy and sorrow
Ghost of sweet streams and feathers
Making love by quiet rivers
Warriors that once blessed the sky

The legions come with their chains
They bring reservations
They bring peace treatise with broken tongues
Love me on this hot bed of soul
The night has ancient eyes
Hear the wind bring tears of Cochise
See the shadows like war dances
See the broken wings of the hawk
We must kiss the future when morning rules
We must remember all their visions
Love is a circle of great seasons

Blend into me like a thousand full moons
Tecumseh sighs in the Ohio valley
Make them move west until they are gone
My love the land cries in your heart
These braves of the new world
Panther in the sky
Trail of tears in your loving thighs
We love in hidden valleys and cold mountains
Sacred burial grounds whisper
Let me hold your warrior soul
I am your lover here and now yet pierced

We are ancient lovers waiting for eternal forests

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Heart Attack (a Sestina)

What angelic chorals sing?
These messengers of heaven
Whose words are none of earth
Rising like mists amid the mountains
Rolling down to pastoral valleys
Stirring my fragile heart

My sullen, throbbing heart
Mumbling, for it can't quite sing
Its beat more full of valleys
Than peaks toward heaven
I miss those tracings in the shape of mountains
Which anchor me to this earth

Sweet, sweet earth
How you fill my heart!
Your noble, snowy mountains
Rising proudly to sing
At the feet of heaven
I long to see your valleys

To lay again in flowered valleys
Smelling the rich, black earth
Of my own personal heaven
Heal you traitorous heart!
I long to shout, to sing
Echoing from the mountains

Where are my mountains?
My rolling valleys?
The monitor, its dirge to sing
Strengthening my tether to earth
Even as my woefully tired heart
Slips to heaven

To forestall heaven
I labor to move mountains
As a constellation of disks record my heart
Etching flat valleys
Confirming i am still of this earth
With only a beep to mournfully sing

Each lull-to heaven, then up from the valleys
Drawn back to mountains and earth
As I wait for my heart to once again sing

poem by John Christensen
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Kiss Me, Death!

kiss me, death...
i have followed the trail
of your perfume for too long.
my body aches from sleeping on rocks,
and my feet no longer have a vision!
the wind whips between these ancient trees,
that smile with the silent ache of longing.
and this small fire i've built is just that,
i leave no trace or thought.
and the stars that crumble to dust
in my hands already know,
only the crows wait for dawn.
i am the lover whose face you've forgotten,
the body of your desire!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Boat Waits

the wolf runs night's paths
with hungry eyes...
magnificent in the moonlight,
panting with desire.
following the scent
from which he came...
he stops in the clearing,
and howls!

the hawk soars the skies,
as if a path.
over mountains and valleys,
in and out of clouds.
eyes intent, with furious purpose...
with wings that taste and touch,
intimate, yet scorched!

the wind blows, the waves come in,
and go out... the boat is empty!
leaves fall from the trees,
only god hears and knows.
and i walk the darkness,
part wolf, part hawk...
both wind and wave...
following the scent,
with desire and purpose!

the boat waits, the lantern is lit!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am.... (Your Lover)

i am the broken branch,
blown by the wind.
the key left in the door,
of the empty house.
i am the creek spilled over,
the frog on the bank.
the pot stained by time,
half filled with water.
the young woman giving birth,
and the nurse by her side.
the box of canned goods,
left on the porch.
i am the body naked,
sleeping on the silent bed.
the son killed in the war,
the picture on the wall.
i am the softness of the moth,
long left the body.
i am the kiss of lovers,
at the risk of loss.
i am the body of words,
sent without hope or destination.
i am the hand you thought wind,
blowing the hair from your face.
i am try inspite of,
i am hunger expressed.
the tongue round your heart,
the tear that comes unannounced!
i am the face of the lonely,
and the feet of the pilgrim.
i am your lover,
clothed in rain and mud!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Follow The Wind

Im so weary from holding this load
But its only , love for you, that I walk this lonely road
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
And the wind will take me hold before the cold
Evry stay I have counted
Each flower I have seen
But the place where Im going , theres no grass as green
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
And the wind will take me home where I can dream
In the hour I am lonely, youre love will be mine
I will stay in your arms dear, until comes the time
I must be on my way for my home is anywhere
I have no time to stay , I have no time to care
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
As the wind gently blows in my hair
(break)
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
As the wind gently blows in my hair
I must follow the wind , follow the wind
As the wind gently blows in my hair

song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quiet Warrior

Standing in a circle the wolves have come
But they wont bother her, no
cause dancing with her hands of leaves shell sing for them
And ease their hungerin
Shes a quiet warrior.
Standing at the oceans stoney shores
The waves all worship her
She stands in trust and lets the night swallow her
Because she knows that shes a piece of the sun
And a quiet warrior.
You ask her where from the wind blows
Shell say its how the sky sings
And you ask her how does the sun rise
Shell say cause you desire it to be seen
And you ask her how does she make your heart fly
And shell tell you, you know why
Shes your quiet warrior.
Ravens they rest on his golden crown
And steal your soul
He smiles and it feels like youve known him
Yes it feels like coming home
Hes a quiet warrior.
And roaring silently hes a lion
And hell hunt for you
His eyes are warm because his hands they are made of light
And they seduce your soul
Hes a quiet warrior.
You ask him where from the wind blows
He says that the earth breathes
And you ask him how does the sun rise
Hell say that shes got wings
And you ask him how does he make your heart fly
And hell tell you, you know why
Hes your quiet warrior.
Transcribed by dan stark

song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Need To Be Named...

how do i know to speak of love?
she has taken my body,
and made it a chair.
she broke my legs,
and threw them into the fire,
started by sparks from my own eyes.
she took my soul and named it a wind,
that frightens the timid,
and fills the roar of the lion.
she took my feet,
and made them chapters...
she formed my hands into valleys,
and flooded them with my heart's desires...
she took my breath,
and stirred darkness with the magic
of the simple and the touched....
she took my identity,
and made me nameless,
and beyond the need to be named!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Wind, Rain, And The Eyes!

i went from the shadow of Jesus,
to Tao's uncarved block,
flowing with the water

for over a decade....
to the feet of Buddha,
awareness and universal compassion...

respect for all that lives.
each of them now a part of me,
of who i am and will be.....

but when i thought each the end,
my destination....
came a voice... Go further!

i went from virtue to evil,
to night needs day,
just as day needs night....

and still i was not finished.
i went from addiction to jail,
from jail to books....

each leaving a scar,
each feeding the fire!
i went from love to loss,

from family to old age...
and still i felt the hunger!
and now i've returned

to my primitive spirit,
i hear voices in the wind,
i make love to the rain!

from time to time....
seeing glimpses of God,
in the hungry eyes of children,

in the eyes of the oppressed....
in the eyes of the homeless,
in the eyes of dead bodies,

without home, naked and honest...
in the eyes....
wind, rain, and the eyes!

go further!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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That Stands And Weeps...

i am the heart of stone,
the body of great mountains.
my feet speak their silent prayers,
my silence clothes their waiting.
i feel the passion, the beat of stone,
i am their embrace of both earth and sky.
you are the fire both hot and cool,
that defines the breath of their being.
i am the time only mountains know,
you the tick of the flesh born clock.
as eternity bows with humble need,
to know the intimacy that stands and weeps!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Free Restless Spirit

there are people ahead of us
and who enjoy their own fame who like to teach us
how to make frames

that there are desired shapes of words
with their own colors and tones
and like light we ought to mix them
to their own
precise delight

when i was new i had always been clumsy
because i always want to think like them

each hour i command my hands to take their
own shapes of fingers

there are always desired sizes and colors and tones
and for years

i have lived in so much restraint that i finally discern
that i am not free

because i must live the way i ought to be like by them
too suffocating
like i am covering my head with
a helmet
so as not to harm myself
from their preconceived accidents

my voice thinned out and my hands
became moles

then too tired to take their commands
i escaped
into the mountains
and i learned the language of the birds and the trees
the songs of the wind and wilderness

my arms become rivers and my feet mountains
my hair the forest and my eyes the sun and moon
my breath is the wind

this is what freedom does
this is the fruit restlessness

this is the poem that you are reading now.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Returned.... (Primitive)

my soul hath returned
to the beginnings of faith,
before written history,
before there were words.
when god walked naked in the darkness,
her long hair birthing leaves
on branches that wept.
the stones whispered praise,
the trees bowed in prayer!

the gutteral moan of the wind
haunts the walls of the cave.
i dream of fire,
both shaking and sweating with cold.
while god talks with the wolves,
the turtles, and the owls.
and sounds mimic night
making love with herself!

dawn calls from a faraway shore;
the waterfall hesitates,
as if in waiting!
unseen hands rub stick against stick,
till the spark of dreams ignites!
moan, groan, and the flap of wings...
and the only name be heartbeat!

i am stone, i am tree,
i am river, i am wind...
i am the sound of nothing,
and the face of the formless!

primitive, and naked,
i walk with god...
and nurse at the breasts of infinity!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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In Dressing Room

In dressing room
Naked eventually to see the hands and feet
See the length of hands and feet
Like to see one’s length or shortness
Naked finally to see the body
See the body’s fat and lean
Such to see one’s tolerance and mean

In dressing room
Holding the picked and chosen clothes
Finally lone to face the mirror
Put on and take off, Take off and put on
Try on and change, change and try on

After all
How many times I should change to face a shameless I?
After all
How many time I should change to face the world

poem by DePen Chang
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