The Spoon... (In Our Hands)
the spoon in our hands
digs the graves of starving children.
our choice to turn away,
buries those afflicted by war.
when we take first,
without a thought to giving...
we bury the body of god,
among the poor and the homeless.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Who's Next?
with every swing of the hammer
that drove the nails,
into His feet, into His hands,
He felt...
the hunger of starving children,
the pain of those sick,
the lost agony of the homeless,
the shame of the beaten...
the repentence of the fallen,
the last hope of the downtrodden.
the dignity of the poor,
the torment of those in chains...
take Him off of that cross!
it's our turn to be human.
time to be who we are,
or to be nothing at all...
who's next?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless
There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.
There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.
There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.
There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.
Children should not have to be homeless though born into abject poverty
They should not be punished for the sins of their parents so much for our humanity
And money to some all that matters and money is married to success
Whilst the children of the poor live homeless on the street of the No Fixed Address.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Bury Me Now!
bury me now,
at the feet of your freedom.
bury me now,
in the bowl of your hunger.
bury me now,
in the healing balm.
bury me now,
in the hand that comforts.
bury me now,
at the foot of the birthing bed.
bury me now,
in the march for peace.
bury me now,
let my body be the bridge.
bury me now,
and give names to the faces!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Bowl and The Spoon
i hear the sound of humanity's voices,
the sound of suffering and need.
i smell the fear, and i feel the anger,
of those left alone, the victims of greed.
i feel the hate of the guns and the bombing,
the terror of women and children.
i cry the tears and shed blood with them,
i hear the prayers of the dead for the living.
i feel the hunger of children left starving,
i am the anger of the unemployed in line.
i breathe the despair of those left homeless,
i am the hope of those looking for a sign.
i am the body that somehow god needed,
i am the ears the lonely pray for.
i am the eyes that see through the heart,
the prisoner walking through the last door.
i hear the sound of the baby crying,
i feel the mother walking across the room.
i am the father praying for work,
i am the bowl and i am the spoon.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Government's Heroin
the lies,
and propaganda,
spewed forth
by the Wall Street,
Pentagon pushing elite...
the lies,
that cover a dying earth,
and hide the faces
of starving millions,
that bury the bodies
of the victims in unmarked graves.
that strip the working class
of all dignity and rights...
the lies,
and propaganda,
nothing but the government's heroin,
doled out in measured doses,
numbing the souls of the masses...
but now the spoon is tarnished,
the needle bent beyond repair.
track marked arms linked in arms,
angry, and determined!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Body Of God!
forgive me, i erred,
i thought God contained
in the wind.... but twas
only one breath of infinity!
i thought i saw God
in the starving child's eyes,
but twas only one heartbeat
of compassion!
i thought i heard God
in the cries of the dying
on the battlefields of greed...
but twas human despair!
i thought i found God
down in the homeless shelter,
but twas only the faces
of my brothers and sisters!
so i walked away,
thinking God didnt care....
then a voice startled me...
'but you're my body! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Voices Of The Children
how many times will we turn to the wind
and hear the voices of the children?
how many bodies, how many graves,
before we forgive and are forgiven?
who makes the choice?
and who has the voice?
whose hand can stop the killing?
who defines liberty?
brings back community?
brings back the touch and the feeling?
and when will we know
they'll never be tomorrow
unless we live today?
will we find God in each other,
in our sisters and brothers,
in what we do and what we say?
how many times will we turn to the wind
and hear the voices of the children?
how many voices, how many graves?
before we forgive, and are forgiven!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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From The Jesus Papers....
the question we have to ask ourselves
is whether Jesus would be a member of the present
Christian church?
would He choose to be American?
or would He walk the starving roads of Africa?
would He flee with the women and children
in the countries bombed?
would He be a political force,
or a political dissident?
would He be a capitalist, a socialist, or an anarchist?
would He self immoliate with the Tibetan monks
in the name of freedom?
would He carry the bodies out of the mines?
would He hold the addict's hands?
would He call capital punishment justice, or murder?
would He turn His back on the poor, the homeless, and the jobless?
would He be white, black, or brown?
would He condemn? or walk in compassion?
would He hate Muslims, Buddhists, and atheists?
would He be a patriot, or a rebel?
would you let Him in your house?
would He be an illegal immigrant?
would He throw the money changers out of Wall Street?
out of Washington? out of the church?
would you Know Him if you met Him?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pleasure
Under the blanket
Of a summer night
Hypnotized by the moon's light
And possessed by the ocean's breeze
Above, a jealous bird flying free
While below two souls emerged into one body
Giving explanation to nobody...
My starving and shaking hands
Voraciously redrawing your body in the sand
With plenty of passion and lust..
Here, I am with the woman I thought lost
Finally together without pressure
Captivated by the magic of pleasure,
And joyfully lost in another dimension...
Breaking all the rules without exception...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee
Indian legislation's on the desk of the do right congressman
Now he don't know much about the issues so he picks up the phone
And asks the advice of the senator out in indian country
A darling of the energy companies their ripping off
What's left of the reservation
I learned the safety rule
I don't know who to thank
Don't stand between the reservation
And the corporate bank
They're sending federal tanks
It isn't nice but it's reality
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Deep in the earth
I said cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got these energy companies
Who want to take the land
And they got churches by the dozens
Trying to guide our hands
And turn our mother earth
Over to pollution war and greed
Well
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got the federal marshalls
We get the covert spies
We get the liars by fire
We get the fbi
They lie in court and get nailed
And still leonard peltier goes off to jail
(the bullets don't match the gun)
Bury my heart at wounded knee
An eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart at wounded knee
We got your murder and intimidation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
My girlfriend anna may
Talked about uranium
Her head was full of bullets
And her body dumped
The fbi cut off her hands
And told us she died of exposure
Yeah right
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Oh deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Talk about a revolution
We had the gold rush wars
Why didn't we learn to crawl?
And now our history gets written in a liar's scrawl
They tell me " honey you can still be an indian
Down at the y on saturday night''
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
And cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart
It was an eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart
Got your murder, murder, murder and intimidation
Bury me
Bury me
Bury me
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wanderer
It was a taxidermal view
thousands of fawns on the lake.
Can you handle the die-off
of the whole truth?
I have nowhere to go. Genes are
turning on, turning off. Bare hands
holding the bruises.
Hungry, but cannot eat
looking at the tattoos on the back of
starving children.
I am sick these days in the midst of glory
and shame. Faithlessness is a prize
wrapped by shadows. The snakes
are climbing on the walls.
Human things, like chimps
kissing and hugging to calm down.
in memoriam of a lost tribe.
The body of a chaste god
lies buried under the debris of unholy secrets.
Homeless I wander, beneath the high sky.
poem by Satish Verma
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Many Say Our Life's Journey
Many say our life's journey is fashioned from the life choices we make
That due to poor decisions the wrong road we do take
But assumptions to make to some people do come easily
The people who discount what is known as life's destiny,
The child born of parents living in poverty
Disadvantaged from birth what life choice has she or he?
Homeless as teenagers with little to eat
On the dingy sidewalks of Poverty Street
Life choices not for those of the poor streets of town
For most from there life's journey never leads to renown
Homeless as teenagers they turn to drugs and crime
And like their parents before them serve many years of jail time
Life choices are not for everyone it does seem to me
Though with me on this one many would disagree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poor Children
They are the future of humanity
But many of them living in poverty
And without shelter homeless on the street
Searching through rubbish bins for scraps of food to eat.
Poor children are victims of circumstance
In life they never really get a chance
Or have opportunities as privileged children do
The road from the poor suburb to prison leads them to.
From broken homes they are condemned to fail
Their abusive and drug addicted parents serving time in jail
Their parents too homeless in their teen years
On no hope street no laugther only tears.
The Government does not care about those who live in poverty
No political advantage in philanthropy do they see
Their tally men for them have taken note
That few in the poor suburb ever bother for to vote.
Poor children without homes and sleeping rough
And life for them already hard enough
At the wrong end of the social divide
Any chance of a good future to them is denied.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We Are The World - Usa For Africa 1985
There comes a time when we need a certain call
When the world must come together as one
There are people dying, oh, and its time to lend a hand to life
The greatest gift of all
We cant go on pretending day by day
That someone, somewhere will soon make a change
Were all a part of gods great big family
And the truth, you know love is all we need
We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin
Theres a choice were makin
Were savin our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me
Well, send them you your heart so they know that someone cares
And their lives will be stronger and free
As God has shown us by turning stone to bread
And so we all must lend a helping hand
We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin
Whoa, theres a choice were makin
Were savin our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me
When youre down and out
There seems no hope at all
But if you just believe
Theres no way we can fall
Well, well, well, let us realize
Oh, that one change can only come
When we stand together as one
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin
Theres a choice were makin
Were savin our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me
We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin
Theres a choice were makin
Were saving our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me
We are the world (we are the world)
We are the children (we are the children)
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin (so lets start giving)
Theres a choice were making
Were saving our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me (all right, let me hear you)
We are the world (we are the world)
We are the children (said we are the children)
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin (lets start givin)
Theres a choice were makin
Were saving our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me, come on now let me hear you
We are the world (we are the world)
We are the children (we are the children)
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start giving (so lets start givin)
Theres a choice were making
Were savin our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me, yeah, yeah
We are the world (we are the world)
We are the children (we are the children)
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start giving (so lets start givin)
Theres a choice were makin
Were savin our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me
We are the world (we are the world)
We are the children (we are the children)
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin (so lets start giving)
Theres a choice were makin
Were savin our own lives
Its true, well make a better day
Just you and me
We are the world (we are the world)
We are the children (we are the children)
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So lets start givin
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Not....
i will not be a part
of your wars!
keep your oil wet,
blood stained fingers
off of my throat!
i will not, by actions,
or inaction, be a part,
of that which furthers hunger
and suffering to pad
the pockets of greed.
i will not kill for profit,
will not march to the drum!
i will not believe in your lie,
nor wave your flag!
i will not cast judgements
with prejudicial blows,
i will not take from the poor,
nor dig the graves...
to bury the children
that you never named!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Liturgy....
liturgy....
black coffee,
old hands opening boxes.
sweeping the floor
of the soul.
words shaped like photographs
made of wind and tears.
simple things...
simple doings!
the same shovel
digs the grave,
digs in the garden.
barefoot,
and half naked,
no need for words,
no fears to console.
live without regrets,
leave it all on the table.
do the work, and move on.
dont be the hollow religious image,
a body that has no love,
a love that has no body.
dont be so quick to wash your hands,
the dirt neath your nails
is your heritage!
liturgy...
black coffee,
and touching,
the shovel, and the axe!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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May God Help The Poor Children
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
He try to shield them from police the police no mercy show
And the glue sniffing children of the streets at their hands suffer so.
I watched a documentary on Guatemala the saddest I've seen for years
The crimes against the children moved hardened heart to tears
The police of Guatemala beat the street kids to death
How can men do such evil things and not live to regret? .
The street kids of Guatemala they know Bruce Harris well
He try to keep them from the streets from life of crime and hell
He try to shield them from police from cruel inhuman men
His is an uphill battle a battle hard to win.
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
And may God help the poor children such suffering they go through
And God bless all those who help them and God bless Bruce Harris too.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shallow Grave
When I fall in endless sleep
I hope that I'll be buried deep
Let me be the one that fortune favours
Even good children got shallow graves
Throw another clown to the lions
Throw another Joan on the blaze
Cast me away on the cruel calm ocean
and leave me for days and days and days and days and days
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
I won't lie, I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Bless the poor 'cos like the rich
They all end up in a ditch
In this world of fools and knaves
Even good children got shallow graves
The tinker, the tailor, the fabulous five
Nobody gets out of this alive
Chorus
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down deep where the dead men sleep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
Dig me down, dig me down, dig me down deep
I won't lie in this poor shallow grave
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shining Path
let your body sing
let your body sing
let your body sing of love
let the new day bring
let the new day bring
let the new day bring with love
and all that's not enough for us
to stay warm
to stay warm
to stay warm
don't say it's all but over
don't say they've pinned your shoulders down
i've been laughing hard from coming right around
and everything is as we always planned
a world of hurt that couldn't stop our dance
may the time of light and loving take a chance
the small things that you need
one could not run
let your body sing
let your body sing
let your body sing
let your children dream
let your children dream
their words come apart in my hands with love
and all that's enough for us
to stay warm
to stay warm
to stay warm
my day will come
my day will come around
my day will come
my day will come around
my day will come
my day will come
my day will come
with a turn around to be warm
my day will come
my day will come around
my day will come
with a turn around
as i turn around to be warm
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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