The Other Way Around?
you smell like war,
like gunpowder,
flesh searing screams.
i smell like grieving,
like ashes, and
dirt on the shovel.
you sound like hunger,
and homelessness,
and vomit stained lips.
i sound like the soup
that simmers, like the
blanket wrapped...
you taste like bitterness,
the lonliness of alone.
i taste like the hand that fits,
the shadow of the body near...
or am i wrong?
could it be the other way around?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
The Flesh Of Hunger
listen...
the sound you hear
is the sound of
your own heart,
crying out for the
embrace of all others...
a child, nursing
at the breast of humanity,
knowing only mother,
womb, and breast...
the smell on your breath,
the stink of human need;
the taste on your lips,
the flesh of hunger!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Epilogue (Part Three)
shivering nails,
black and white coffins whisper.
bodies without heads,
strewn in the sand.
the taste of gunpowder
on my lips.
i bow, but cannot pray!
the sound of the oil rigs,
the coarse rhythm of greed.
take and destroy, take and fulfill!
the cry of sea life,
the gurgling choke,
soon to be the children
of flaccid men.
buildings like bodies,
stripped empty and bare.
the memories smell
of life that once was.
empty, and pulsing,
with the want of need,
no one hears the ghosts within.
hunger and homelessness,
heroin and Jesus.
the shelves are bare,
the mother's eyes are bleeding.
the nameless and unwanted,
cast aside in the storm,
while ghouls walk amid
the rubble of the lie.
sing for me, pray for me,
take my hand, take my hand...
even when i close my eyes,
i still hear, still feel,
the faces of the wind!
and god, if there be,
in each and every tear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poet's Epitaph
i see the lights of a far distant shore.
i hear the moan of thundered skies.
i smell the perfume of rain not fallen.
i taste the lips of earth, and of trees.
i see the fire in cold artic winters.
i hear the words the wind desires.
i smell the scent of passion held back.
i taste the blood of coming death.
i see the dawn of the blackened cave.
i hear the weeping of mountains still.
i smell the coffin, and shovelled dirt.
i taste the spirit set free in flight!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Senses
sweet, sour, bitter, salty
is there any other taste
we have to ask of
it from the almighty?
sight, smell, taste, sound, touch
could i ask for more? from the almighty
who has generously opened
five avenues to him?
or are they traps of the devils
to lead me the wrong way?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Footsteps (Killing F(r) iends On Paper)
The sound of
footsteps
in the gravel
behind you
makes you turn.
Your eyes widen
and your jaw drops
as does your
smoking cigarette.
You stare at me
for a second
or two.
You are not smiling
and though
your mouth moves
it speaks no words.
Gunshot breaks this silence
as your head explodes
in a cloud of red mist
and bone.
I smell gunpowder.
Look down
on your headless torso,
picks op stained
still smoking cigarette,
noticing for the first time
the shotgun in my hand.
My brain is numb.
Voice
sounds strange
and distant
as I call
the Cops.
I feel the wind
I see the sun
I taste metal
I hear the birds
...but not the
2nd gunshot
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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These Poems
these poems be but the heart born hand,
the oak undressed, the pine that grieves.
the wings of bodies strewn by time,
the scent of flesh, and of blood.
the fire built for the faceless ones,
the sky heavy with storm.
the dreams of the child in red clay dirt,
the sound of the horn just outside sound!
the body wrapped in shadow's grasp.
the vibration deep inside stone.
the window latch broken by the wind,
the light beyond both death and prayer!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ooh Aah
Hey baby.I know you want me.
Whether it's wrong or right.
I wanna be with you tonight.
So get your things and let's go.
Let's get outta here.
How you doing baby?
You looking good.
And if you could stay with me.
Oh girl.I know you would.Yeah.
I haven't seen you.
In a long time.
But the love you gave to me.
Is constantly on my mind.
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
There's nothing wrong.
With the way I feel.
Because your loving.
Oh girl.It gives me chills.Mmm Hmm.
You wouldn't be smiling.
If I was wrong.
So bring your loving.
To me all night long.
I like it when you moan
You say....
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
Wanna love it.
Wanna touch it.
Let me lay your body down.
Wanna feel it.
Wanna taste it.
Let me hear you make a sound.
Wanna love it.
Wanna touch it.
Let me lay your body down.
Wanna feel it.
Wanna taste it.
Let me here you make a sound.
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
Wanna love it.
Wanna touch it.
Let me lay your body down.
Wanna feel it.
Wanna taste it.
Let me hear you make a sound.
Wanna love it.
Wanna touch it.
Let me lay your body down.
Wanna feel it.
Wanna taste it.
Let me here you make a sound.
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
Ooh Aah Oh Oh
(You know I want it)
song performed by by Avant from My Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Hope
If hope could be a color
It would be blue,
as blue as the sky.
If hope could be a taste,
It would be a ripe strawberry.
If hope could be a smell,
It would be the smell of a rose.
If hope could be a sound,
It would be the sound of a harp.
If hope could be an animal,
It would be a kitten purring.
If we just had alittle hope,
We would not have to say,
If Hope, And know that hope is.
poem by Nora Eason
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When a baby comes you can smell two things: the smell of flesh, which smells like chicken soup, and the smell of lilies, the flower of another garden, the spiritual garden.
quote by Carlos Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gunpowder
I asked my mother why do you cry
She said your brother had... he just died
Well I told him not to go outside
He said he had to fight for his countrys right
But dont you know that mo-mother
Dont you know that we cant stop the violence, no
Because the war is not over
Until you can feel love, peace, and hear silence
But I smell gunpowder (pow)
My brothers been dead ever since
I didnt beleive it, but when I saw him I was convinced
Two shots to the head he was already dead lord,
I headed for revenge in the city of port au prince
Screaming bro-brother
Dont you know that we cant stop the violence, no
Because the war is not over
Until you can feel love, peace, and hear silence
But I smell gunpowder (pow)
Zions gunpowder (pow)
L.a.s gunpowder (pow)
I wanna know why
Christians pray for a new day
We dont need no, we dont need no, we dont need no
But its still the same way
I wanna know why
Ghetto people pray for a new day
Hey, hey, heeey
And its still the same way
But the preacher man told me
Good things come to those who wait
Do good things come to those who wait?
I wanna know tell me
Good things come to those who wait
Do good things come to those who wait?
We wanna know, we wanna know, we wanna know [pause]
Pe-people
Dont you know that we cant stop the violence, no
Because the war is not over
Until you can feel love, peace, and hear the silence
But I smell gunpowder (gunpowder)
Brooklyns gunpowder (gunpowder)
Shaolins gunpowder (gunpowder)
Uptowns gunpowder (gunpowder)
Jerseys gunpowder (gunpowder)
Even new zealands gunpowder (gunpowder)
Australias gunpowder (gunpowder)
Brixtons gunpowder (gunpowder)
Even new havens gunpowder
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Know The Rest!
you can smell poverty,
without ever asking.
you can taste hunger,
you can feel unspoken sorrow.
open your eyes,
you can see the season.
and in a lover's eyes,
the door, and the bolt.
feel the ashes,
too cold to stir.
take a deep breath,
move your mechanical feet.
time doesnt lie,
and doesnt know truth.
'ashes to ashes...'
you know the rest!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Which Side Do You Belong To?
i hear the cry of the hawk and the rabbit,
i feel the talons tearing flesh.
i smell gunpowder, and bodies burning,
i hear the sound of boots on the road.
the groan of the tanks turning without faces,
the buzz of the drones flying above.
the mechanical order, as life is destroyed,
the cry of babies on their mother's dead breasts.
the mourning sisters who bury their brothers.
light making shadows on all the colors of skin.
the shout of the flags, the bowls left empty.
the bolt of the rifle, the knife slid from the sheath,
the sound of the falling just before impact.
the cry for freedom on the lips of the martyr.
the pages of the holy book turned down forever.
the prayer of justice over equality's grave.
the soldiers of poverty who fought against all odds.
the sound of dead elders drawing in their breath.
the wind named liberty howling and lost.
the fingers of the child touching dead lips.
the song of the bruise, the scar, and the dream.
the smell of flesh bartered for hope.
the last drink of daylight, the dark night unending.
the face of eternity in slivers of moonlight.
the star of humanity falling from the sky.
the presence of god, and the absence of presence.
the mountains crumbling, the rivers gone dry.
the last trees walking into the distance.
the sound of the chisel carving in stone,
the last tear wept by the shadow called being.
and i turn and i stand in the name of dignity,
holding in my hands the pages of history.
the moment lost to vast infinity...
saying, tis now, or never,
truth counts the cost...
which side do you belong to?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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You Made Me Happy Too, What Is Wrong?
last night you have shown me
everything i love
shall i enumerate all your
body parts
the color and taste
and smell
shall i tell you that i have memorized
every detail
you may tell me i am so sensitive about
those things
parts that bore you since you have them
all the days of your
sad life
sad?
i have quivered in hell
i swallowed every vomit
for each breast and arms and
hair
and lips and tongue
i sighed
you have shown me every part that i am
and honestly
after what happened
i hate to say this
but i had a year and so many years
of regret
it is not me, it was never me
i am never like that
but what can i do
here you are smiling at me
teasing me
and piercing my brain
shouting to the layer of my conscience
you did it man
you did it
stop pretending
you made me happy too
what is wrong?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life vibrates five elements
The Sky vibrates with the Sound
And the Air, with the Touch in addition.
The Fire beams with the Form as third
And the Water, with the Taste as fourth.
It's the Earth that has all the five,
With the Smell as its fifth Guna.
The five elements make a body,
Which houses the five sense organs.
Life force vibrates the body
And experiences five senses.
26.06.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Janice and You at Waterloo Station
At Waterloo Station
the steam engines
puffed powerful steam
reaching up
to the rooftop
and you stood there
hands in your pockets
your nose sniffing in
the white and grey smell
you can taste it
on your tongue
and Janice beside you
her eyes looked up
at the rooftop
as the steam
reached high
her hands clutching
the small bag
I want to be a train driver
when I'm older
you said
I want to smell
that smell
and breathe in
that steam and shovel
coal in the engine
maybe you will
Janice said
maybe you'll be
on a train like that
big and black
and powerful
she put her hand
under your arm
and squeezed
Gran said we can be
what we want
if we want it
bad enough
Janice added
you felt her hand
under your arm
sensed her squeeze it
we went to the seaside
on a big black train
like this last year
you said
and I put my head
out the train window
and my mum said
keep your head in
or a train
will knock it off
that'd be horrible
Janice said
she clutched
closer to you
as the steam train
puffed out more steam
and the sound was loud
and powerful
and she said
maybe
when you're an engine driver
you can take me
to the seaside
with Gran
yes
you said
and if you come
to the engine
before you take off
I can show you
the engine
and how powerful it is
and she smiled
and put her head
on your shoulder
yes
you said softly
when I grow up
and when I am older.
poem by Terry Collett
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Heaven is a space in the heart
He could see
He could sense
He could desire
Compassion.
He came for love
Finding those deserving-
tell me, why does an angel suffer?
Was God really too high above?
With the stomach of immortalism, the Supreme intellect precedes action
'Cowards die a thousand deaths but the valiant taste of death, but once'- Shakespeare.
That human senses
Is what the enemy wants
Without the reign of will.
Many having seen the night
That they have seen
Could do with some superhuman, Kryptonite.
May God take back the senses
Nothing rightly leftover
Sight, sound, taste, smell and taste
And else worthy, of his sense.
Heaven is a space in the heart.
poem by Kamini Arichandran
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siMple
Similiar, the sound of agony inside your screams - Do you cast summers of stones, are you part of the hatred, the fuel that fumes behind war - Simple, your outlook captured by the memories of dreams, split in hell the witches seams - I smell the sick, i burn deep, i am shallowed by my soul, demons roam in the weakness of my shadow - The root to the wicket, the greed to be richer - Is happiness the deal for your sadness to feel free, now can you see the smell in me
poem by Unic Cjonr
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I Am A Piece Of Broken Man
do you see me? what do you really see?
do you see this piece of broken man?
his spine bowed to the earth
because it has a huge burden on his back
his face with rugged lines, his jaw somehow dislocated,
the bones of his body unsymmetrical,
his flesh rotting, his skin unable to hold some parts of his
broken body, his nose does not smell the sweet perfume
of the good life, his tongue attuned to the bitterness of his past,
his lips crack with the present catastrophies,
it has not defined the kiss of life,
he cannot look up now to the bright skies
and marvel upon the wonders of creation,
the nature of green and red
the scent of peach and apples and roses
the taste of honey,
look at him, look at me, this piece of a broken man,
i am not your imagination
i am you. you must look at me again, stare at me.
give me your hand, so i can be warm again,
so my blood starts to run again, it is you, and you alone,
who can make me rise.
i am no other man. I am you.
help me. help yourself.
this is the real picture of the man
in the mirror of your eyes
in that secret chambers of your heart.
help yourself. help me.
we shall rise.we are one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Smell Like
you smell like....
your skin, your hair,
your gentle touch;
your eyes that have loved,
and lost many a battle.
your fierce heart wrapped
around your children, your dogs.
your sadness weeping
with every step you take.
your ashes remembering fire,
your fire that burned down,
sweeping away all that was,
and dared to be...
your dancing soul crippled
by shadows that haunt.
your wings of flesh and feather...
you smell like... me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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That Smell
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree you're in my way
There's too much coke and too much smoke
Look what's going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you Prince Charming
Can't speak a word when you're full of 'ludes
Say you'll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, you're a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, Lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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