The Sky (Belongs To All)
i saw Jesus
in a drunk tank
in Oklahoma,
after i watched
a man die...
found Buddha
in the stillness
on a cool basement floor...
felt the Tao,
on a mountainside,
listening to water
running over rocks.
i found myself,
again this morning,
in the line outside
the homeless shelter.
all of this, and more,
in families torn apart by war,
in the addict who does what he has to,
in the poor, and hungry,
the sick, and the dispossessed.
in the broken, and the angry...
in the hopeless with trembling mouths.
in the child born without a future,
in the man who closed the door!
each way has its own wings,
but the sky belongs to all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
White Republican Male Jesus?
White Republican Male Jesus?
what about...
black Jesus, brown Jesus,
Asian Jesus, atheist Jesus,
female Jesus, poor Jesus,
jobless Jesus, prison Jesus,
homeless Jesus, illegal immigrant Jesus?
dog Jesus, cat Jesus,
baby in a dumpster Jesus,
addict Jesus, old Jesus?
gay Jesus, union Jesus,
hungry Jesus, foreign Jesus?
bumming a cup of coffee Jesus?
brother Jesus, sister Jesus?
just bombed Jesus,
food stamp Jesus?
how many bodies? how many crosses?
you tell me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Laid Down God!
i laid down God,
and found the stranger
at my door....
hungry stare, dirty clothes,
nowhere to go...
i let him in!
i laid down God,
and found the orphaned child,
crying in the darkness,
the darkness that swallows souls.
i took the child in my arms,
and whispered, 'you are home'...
i laid down God,
traded my guns for hammer and nails...
began building houses
for the lost and dispossessed...
i laid down God,
and quit thinking about me...
found peace in involvement,
with no need to possess...
i laid down God,
and God found me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Forgotten Hungry And Homeless
The forgotten hungry and homeless nowadays to be found everywhere
There are millions of them close to a billion in the bigger World out there
The refugees of drought stricken Lands and of warlords and the homeless of Poverty Street
Basic human rights of them are denied shelter from the weather and enough for to eat
In a Human World where everyone is supposed to be equal after all we breathe in the same air
But the poor and the homeless and the hungry cannot feel that life is very fair
The minority those who are too wealthy people with too much of everything
Are people that many look up to though their praises I cannot sing,
In an egalatarian Human World everyone would have a home to live in
And nobody would be without food and well dressed and not ragged and thin
The poor by the day growing poorer and that does seem a sad thing to say
And the refugee camps of the World are all overcrowded today,
'Tis sad to think that from the poverty of many that a minority does stand to gain
And I with enough of food and shelter have no reason for to complain.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Power Of Prayer
The addict trembled, terrified,
Death stared him in the face
And that poor soul was mesmerised,
Transfixed in that one place,
No will to move, not left or right,
With nowhere inbetween,
A dreadful Twilight Zone in sight,
The like he'd never seen...
The addict gulped, held back his tears,
As Death displayed its form,
As Death's wings stretched behind his ears
And he felt cold not warm...
And then Death laughed with utmost glee,
One victim on its mind,
One victim from this life set free
To leave this world behind...
The addict prayed in Jesus name,
For mercy, peace, joy, love
And Death stood back, not quite the same,
As God began to shove...
The man still prayed, his eyes still closed,
Regardless, unaware
That God defended and opposed
In answer to his prayer...
The addict sensed God intervened,
Somehow new life began,
With Death no more the awesome fiend
Because God had a plan...
Thus Jesus saved the man from Death,
From judgment and from Hell...
God's Son... Jesus of Nazareth!
What stories He could tell...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Need Water
Scorching hot summer’s day
Devastation struck on our holiday.
Water, water running out
No more water left about.
Where is water?
What to do?
Stressing, thirsty, hungry too.
Need a shower!
Need a drink!
But there is no time to think.
Running, running to the store
“No more water” written on the door.
I need water, but there’s none,
Definitely not having fun.
Feeling dirty!
Feeling sick!
Needing something so basic.
Water, water I need you
Then I’ll be as good as new.
Water, water always there,
Once it’s gone we’re made aware
Wasting water is not right
Now it’s gone I’ve seen the light.
I need water to survive
I’m lucky to be alive!
poem by Salvatore Mazzeo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Found Jesus On The Jailhouse Floor
There once was a time when I was dead inside
I cussed the Lord for the day I was born
And prayed to the Devil to die
Just when I thought the Devil had won
Someone opened up the door
The King of kings
Lord of lords
I found Jesus on the jailhouse floor
Chorus:
Now, he broke the chains that bound me, and now Im free
Today Im right where Mama
Prayed Id be
Im down on my knees
Now I believe
What Mama knew for sure
Hes King of kings
Lord of lords
I found Jesus on the jailhouse floor
Now, if youre in trouble friend, let me tell you what to do
Ill tell you what hes done for me
And I know what hell do for you
It makes no difference what youve done
Youve a friend in the One that I adore
The King of kings
Lord of lords
I found Jesus on the jailhouse floor
Repeat Chorus
Hes King of kings
Lord of lords
I found Jesus on the jailhouse floor
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Drunk
I wasn’t always a drunk
Once I was a child - a little girl
Who wanted love
Which she found - in a bottle
At first it had been fun
There were friends and laughter
She felt complete, unbroken for the first time
But it stole something I couldn’t afford to lose
It took my sanity – for awhile
It took over my life – and my child
Withered and died
I can’t get her back
I’ve tried
But I was a drunk
The kind that drinks in the morning
And falls asleep with a glass in her hand
That spills
Red liquid onto the floor
Who laughs too loud
In a crowd
And doesn’t know
She’s not the centre of attention because she’s fun
poem by Elizabeth Russell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Absence
I have scarcely left you
When you go in me, crystalline,
Or trembling,
Or uneasy, wounded by me
Or overwhelmed with love, as
when your eyes
Close upon the gift of life
That without cease I give you.
My love,
We have found each other
Thirsty and we have
Drunk up all the water and the
Blood,
We found each other
Hungry
And we bit each other
As fire bites,
Leaving wounds in us.
But wait for me,
Keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
A rose.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Morning Refuge Prayer
i take refuge in the Buddha
who shows us the path.
i take refuge in the Dharma
that teaches us to walk in compassion.
i take refuge in the Sangha
the family of living beings working together for peace.
i take refuge in Jesus
in the way that He lived and died.
in the Kingdom of Heaven within us
that heals the sick and feeds the hungry.
i take refuge in the Tao
in the uncarved block.
in water flowing over rocks
finding its own way.
i take refuge in the Great Spirit
in the embrace of Mother Earth.
i take refuge in the wind and rain
in the thunder and lightning,
in the stillness of night.
i take refuge in the howl of the wolf,
in the eyes of small children.
in the truth that breaks down the wall
between living and existing, between sorrow and joy.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If You Need Scriptures....
if you need scriptures,
read the scriptures written
on the walls of your soul!
read the scriptures written
in trees, in rocks, in rivers.
read the scriptures written
in the broken alley.
in the homeless man's eyes,
in the addict's desperation,
in the shuffle of jobless feet.
in the cry of the newborn baby,
in the lovers moan of fulfillment,
the scriptures written
in the sweet darkness of night,
in the jail cell,
in the picket line,
in the monk who sets himself
on fire for freedom and justice,
in all the colors of equality...
in the hungry child's hand reaching out...
read them, know them, be them!
life testifies to the living!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poor
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look out from the crowd
Lost in their 'man made prison'
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look up to the proud
Who looks back with derision
And who can tell the poor that God is with them?
He who paints angel wings on ragged backs?
Makes hungry mouths sing for their supper
He who nothing lacks?
Who poorer still can say God is with us?
When homeless turn away from too much fuss
But God is with them
Is he with us?
And poorer still in having more
But never having too much
Who can say then God is with us?
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Buddha Within....
Buddha's tears...
on the faces of every
hungry child in the world.
Buddha's emptiness,
in the hearts of every
person who has no home.
Buddha's sorrow,
in the eyes of every
victim of the bombings.
Buddha's silence,
at the roar of every
religious fanatic.
Buddha's compassion,
in the dirt of every
human being fallen.
Buddha's forgiveness,
in the anger of every
person driven by prejudice.
Buddha within,
seeks to evolve!
Buddha within,
just to be!
Buddha within,
already there.
Buddha within,
always has been!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jesus Walk
The other day I was weeping
The tears kept coming to my eyes
But then I looked out my window
As though pleaded, to look outside.
But my tears just kept falling
Caused by the worries and world outside
As the hate and sin kept growing
From which, no one can hide.
So then I brushed the world aside
As compelled to search the sky
And then; I shook in wonder,
For I saw Jesus, walking at sunrise.
He was walking with out stretched hands
Though reaching for every woman and man
And I, didnt make a sound,
For I was lost, and never found.
I watched him walk with such concern
As He watched the world below
He walked with such shame and pity
My teardrops, began to grow.
And as I watched as Jesus walked
I knew then the Lord did care
No matter how I felt,
I knew Jesus would always be there.
And as Jesus kept walking
I saw sorrow on his saddened face
Was it though for His children and world
Or was it, for their future and fate.
So I just kept watching Jesus
As he looked, and searched the world
Then suddenly; He just disappeared
As though, He was never here.
So then I closed my window
And fell to my knees to pray and cry
Though this time not for the world or me,
But for Jesus, who walked at sunrise.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm Sick Of It
I'm sick, sick, sick of cigarette addiction
I'm sick of movies and their dishonest depiction
That smoking is glamorous, sophisticated and cool
When what it really is is something that rules
The cigarette addict from morning to night
And all the hours in between, they can never take flight
From the constant nagging fear that they must inhale the fumes
Of a deadly poison that will lead them to their doom
A cigarette addict can barely do a thing
Without a cigarette, it's got them on a string
They have to smoke it now, it just cannot wait
And then, another and another, they've really taken the bait
A cigarette addict is as helpless as a lamb
On a frosty hillside with no mother to keep it warm
Their mind is so confused that they actually believe
A cigarette is their saviour, they are so deceived
(Sydney, Australia - 2003)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That's Jesus
THAT'S JESUS
WHEN I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING
PUT MY FEET ON THE FLOOR
I THANK HIM FOR THE DAY
THAT HE GAVE ME ONE MORE
I GIVE HIM ALL THE PRAISE
THE ONE THAT I ADORE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
I WAS LOST AND ALL ALONE
MY HEART IN NEED OF HELP
I FOUND ETERNAL LIFE
AND LOST MY FEAR OF DEATH
BECAUSE I KNOW THE AUTHOR OF
MY EVERY BREATH,
OH THAT'S JESUS, THAT'S JESUS
GOD OF GLORY, MAJESTY
THE HOLY ONE WHO DIED FOR ME
WHO'S THE ONE I LONG TO SEE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
IF YOU'RE A SOUL THAT'S LOST
AND IN NEED OF DIRECTION
YOU WONDER WHEN YOU DIE
IF YOU'LL GO TO HEAVEN
WELL FRIEND I'VE FOUND THE ANSWER
TO THAT VERY QUESTION
THAT'S JESUS, THAT'S JESUS
GOD OF GLORY, MAJESTY
THE HOLY ONE WHO DIED FOR ME
WHO'S THE ONE I LONG TO SEE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Nothing.... (A Body)
i am nothing but the moth,
drawn to the flame.
no more than a body,
borrowed by god!
no more than the tear,
that no one else saw.
no less than the hunger,
that you feel.
i am nothing but the cross,
and the hurt Judas felt.
the day Buddha died,
and the day you were born!
the broken down shelter,
made of branches and leaves.
the mother holding the sick child,
through the unending night.
the rose that bloomed,
out of season unnoticed.
the last prayer of the prisoner,
walking to his execution.
i am nothing more than you,
and often less...
i am the stone that bruised your foot,
the thorn in your conscience.
i am the shadow you sleep with,
when you're left alone.
i am the hand that takes yours,
when you are afraid.
i am nothing...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To My Students
with all of you
i have found a family
on a sincere dedication
to teach
i have felt compassion
a belonging
beyond the scope of things
beyond those unblinking eyes
like mouths opening
hungry for knowledge
i have found love
with all of you
how can i be alone?
with all of you
i have felt the confirmation
the worth and meaning
of my own
existence
beyond all these
i have confessed to God
there is meaning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dance Naked #3
hold Thor's hammer in your hand,
learn from the annunaki...
sit at the feet of Plato,
wander the worlds with the Hopi...
draw swords with the samurai,
search for the codes of da vinci...
watch the times and the seasons,
and be hungry for change!
hold the beating heart in your hands
till all names are forgotten...
till all colors are one color,
and the language is blood.
sit beneath the tree with Buddha,
and understand time, past and future.
walk the water with Jesus,
do the Ghost Dance again!
take the hand of a hungry child,
take in the unwanted dog.
stand on the shores with the Irish,
and chant the waves in!
feed the hungry, heal the sick,
free the oppressed.
stand in the face of life...
bare your teeth, and howl!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mixed Feelings
The tears I've shed
run down my face,
the fire in my eyes
the betrayal in my heart
and endless footage running in my head.
I cant believe what happened
Who are you?
I dont want to know this person you've become
my heart aches
my eyes are sore,
and I am sick
I'm sick of the same feeling
I'm sick of my heart suffering
I'm sick of people like you
And I'm sick of being the one hurt.
How old are we?
It's about time to grow up
I'm not going to stay quiet anymore
I'm going to show you the real me
and the real me is angry
Angry at the past
Angry at the present
Angry at the future
Most of all angry at you
for making me feel this way
for making me shed my tears
for having my heart betrayed
And for making me regret things in my life
the decisions I've made
the feelings I've felt
and making me hate you today.
poem by Chantel Braatz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!