The Stink
the stink...
human excrement,
starving mouths,
skeleton bodies...
breath short and aching.
blood on the hands,
violent scars that tremble,
in the darkest night,
burning out of control.
hatred fear,
that drives and shatters.
the grip on the cup,
broken, and shaking.
hot love molten,
howl, and moan...
the stars in the sky,
falling like hot knives!
silent prayers,
tongues ripped from mouths,
that move like fish,
praying to the water.
feet walking through mud,
hands covered in ashes.
human hearts beating,
souls rotting with desire!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
You Are (Not Alone)
the stink on your breath,
is poverty...
the blood on your lips,
human blood...
the scars on your hands
match the scars
on your heart...
you are not alone,
you are not alone....
the only true value
is the value of a human being.
all true actions
come from the point of dignity.
holiness, not aloof or afar,
human flesh, breath, and bones...
you are not alone,
you are not alone...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Could Bear To Look!
broke down,
system.
faces peeled,
razor knives.
hands cut off,
feet bloodied.
mouths open,
gulping air.
eyes plucked out
by the lies.
souls bartered
for a cup of rice.
flags burning,
bodies strewn.
the well oiled wheel,
turns in spite.
no god,
could bear to look!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Erupting...
i walk the hymn of life erupting,
the urine prayers, the sweat, the pus.
the gutteral cry of need evolving,
the phlegm of god, the bodies rotting.
the snow wiped faces
and the naked earth.
in constant rhythm with hunger's howl,
the candle flame, the silenced tongue.
the whisper shake, of shadows wanting,
nails, blocks, and colored glass.
the crippled dance,
and the distant drums.
who am i? i am you!
the second son of an unknown father.
born in an alley neath a starless sky,
my feet stink of human,
my eyes lit with desire...
talk to me when words are done!
the wet birthed babe,
the hot blood of giving.
the life caved in,
the searh for nipple.
the whiskey breath,
the cigarette memory,
the love torn chest,
the beak plucked heart.
the identity of the unknown soldier
who died in the ashes, unheard, unseen.
the hands that built with determined faith,
with common trust and common hope...
the weeping beneath the silence,
the silence beyond the grave....
talk to me when words are done!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Disciples Of Silence
the disciples of silence,
speak not with their mouths...
for their hands speak the language
of the heart,
and their feet that of the soul.
whose prayers are written by ears,
whose breath is always shared.
whose eyes are open windows,
whose god smells of human need.
whose actions be but forgiveness,
whose thoughts are not restrained.
the disciples of silence keep walking...
living in constant dialogue,
they have no need for words!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Midsummer New York
Wake up in the morning, my hands cold in fear.
And midsummer new york my heart shakes in terror.
My heart, my hands, my legs, my mind,
Evrything I touch is shaking, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
Wake up in the morning, my beds wet in sweat.
And midsummer new york, scream in the mirror.
And the door, and the chairs, and the floor, and the ceiling,
Evrything you see is aching, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
And you shake, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
Wake up in the morning, my minds dried up in pain.
Midsummer new yorks waiting for the rain.
The window, the trees, the park, the sun,
The whole world s shaking, is shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
Shake, oh, shake, oh, shake,
Shake, oh, shake, shake.
Aching, aching, aching, aching, aching,
Oh, its aching, aching, aching, oh, aching,
Aching, aching, oh, its aching, aching, oh, oh.
Shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake!
Shake, oh, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake.
Shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake, shake.
Ooh, oh, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, aching, oh, oh, aching, aching, aching, aching.
Shake, shake, shaking, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Shaking, ooh, oh, shaking, oh, shake,
Oh, oh, shaking, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Oh, oh, shaking, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake,
Shake!
Oh, oh, oh, shake, shake.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Midsummer New York
Wake up in the morning, my hands cold in fear.
And midsummer new york my heart shakes in terror.
My heart, my hands, my legs, my mind,
Evrything I touch is shaking, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
Wake up in the morning, my beds wet in sweat.
And midsummer new york, scream in the mirror.
And the door, and the chairs, and the floor, and the ceiling,
Evrything you see is aching, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
And you shake, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
Wake up in the morning, my minds dried up in pain.
Midsummer new yorks waiting for the rain.
The window, the trees, the park, the sun,
The whole world s shaking, is shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, oooh.
Shake, oh, shake, oh, shake,
Shake, oh, shake, shake.
Aching, aching, aching, aching, aching,
Oh, its aching, aching, aching, oh, aching,
Aching, aching, oh, its aching, aching, oh, oh.
Shaking, shaking,
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake!
Shake, oh, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake.
Shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake, shake.
Ooh, oh, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, aching, oh, oh, aching, aching, aching, aching.
Shake, shake, shaking, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Shaking, ooh, oh, shaking, oh, shake,
Oh, oh, shaking, shaking, shaking, shaking,
Oh, oh, shaking, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Shake, shake, shake,
Shake!
Oh, oh, oh, shake, shake.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lines Of My Hands
are we really meant for each other?
let the lines of our hands grow mouths
let them speak about a reunion of hearts
do i see you once again holding hands
with your shadow? or was it me wrapping
my hands with water? or blinding my eyes
with what fairies use in their flights?
the stars of the zodiac, what are they
really talking about? about us? two lips
fusing a rose? promises grasping for
protocols? the jalousies are like tongues
begging for words, and the floors are
empty arms thirsting for an embrace.
the lines of my hands are ants drawing
a destiny. I look at all these, and where
they must all lead me. One furrows for
death, the other delineates for life.
I cup the water of life, and drink.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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301
sweet chocolates
who will ever resist
sweet chocolates
we take with
our bare fingers
handing these
chocolates inside
our mouths melting
sweetly these
chocolates in
our tongues
putting heaven
sweet chocolate
so sweet inside
our mouths
playing with
our tongues
guilt food and
sin how do you
really love the
sweetness inside
our mouths
melting with
our tongues
these sweet
chocolates of
hidden sins
burning our souls.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chocolates
sweet chocolates
who will ever resist
sweet chocolates
we take with
our bare fingers
handing these
chocolates inside
our mouths melting
sweetly these
chocolates in
our tongues
putting heaven
sweet chocolate
so sweet inside
our mouths
playing with
our tongues
guilt food and
sin how do you
really love the
sweetness inside
our mouths
melting with
our tongues
these sweet
chocolates of
hidden sins
burning our souls.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blood On The World's Hands
Sometimes it makes me wonder
Sometimes it makes me question
Sometimes it makes me saddened
Always it makes me angry but...
When you can see it happening
The madness that's all around you
Nobody seems to worry
The World seems so powerless to act...
It's out of control
Blood on The World's hands
Each day a new toll
Another assassination
The same day a new creation
But what are they coming into
Security of a world that brings...
One day another killing
Somewhere there's someone starving
Another a savage raping
Meanwhile there's someone laughing at us
It's out of control
Blood on The World's hands
Each day it goes on
Brutality and aggression
Tomorrow another lesson
Expecting another air raid
Praying for a ceasefire..
They say things are getting better
No need to complacent
There's a chaos across the border
And one day it could be happening to us
It's out of control
Blood on The World's hands
It's our epitaph
It's out of control
Someone should know
Blood on The World's hands
Someone should
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood Of The Worlds Hands
Sometimes it make me wonder
Sometimes it make me question
Sometimes it make me saddened
Always it makes me angry but...
When you can see it happening
The madness thats all around you
Nobody seems to worry
The world seems so powerless to act...
Its out of control
Blood on the worlds hands
Each day a new toll
Another assassination
The same day a new creation
But what are they coming into
Security of a world that brings...
One day another killing
Somewhere theres someone starving
Another savage raping
Meanwhile theres someone laughing at us
Its out of control
Blood on the worlds hands
Each day it goes on
Brutality and agression
Tomorow another lesson
Expecting another air raid
Praying for a ceasefire...
They say things are getting better
No need to be complacent
Theres chaos across the border
And one day it could be happening to us
Its out of control
Blood on the worlds hands
Its our epitaph
Its out of control
Someone should know
Blood on the worlds hands
Someone should
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood On The Worlds Hand
Sometimes it makes me wonder
Sometimes it makes me question
Sometimes it makes me saddened
Always it makes me angry but...
When you can see it happening
The madness thats all around you
Nobody seems to worry
The world seems so powerless to act...
Its out of control
Blood on the worlds hands
Each day a new toll
Another assassination
The same day a new creation
But what are they coming into
Security of a world that brings...
One day another killing
Somewhere theres someone starving
Another a savage raping
Meanwhile theres someone laughing at us
Its out of control
Blood on the worlds hands
Each day it goes on
Brutality and aggression
Tomorrow another lesson
Expecting another air raid
Praying for a ceasefire..
They say things are getting better
No need to complacent
Theres a chaos across the border
And one day it could be happening to us
Its out of control
Blood on the worlds hands
Its our epitaph
Its out of control
Someone should know
Blood on the worlds hands
Someone should
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boss Of The Nethers
The cupped cervix sat
on the coffee table.
We tried not to stare,
like our pupils would get fried by its brightness.
Perhaps my ex-wife left it as a reminder of the time
when human beings had hips, back when we had bodies.
Yes, that was fun-a cupcake of breeze disintegrating
on our cheeks, a banana muffin undressing in our nostrils,
but bodies broke down too,
and things are easier now.
Strange, how we see further without eyeballs. Our eyes tricked us
into thinking a wall was something not be seen through.
Mouths got in the way
of saying what needed saying.
When they were invented
mouths were only supposed to be used in emergencies,
but we couldn't resist,
which made god so mad
he ripped our ear in half,
and still we didn't listen.
poem by Jeffrey McDaniel
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It Takes.... (To Be Human!)
it takes sweat,
callouses, bruises,
tears, passion and wetness...
it takes hugs, deep thinking,
the root of anger,
and the bridge of kindness...
dirty feet, dirty hands,
naked hearts,
the stink of bodies...
joining, touching, standing,
falling, getting back up...
cursing, praying, singing,
breathing, fucking, holding close...
smiling, giving, sharing, losing,
giving a damn....
listening, reading, searching,
questioning, believing....
daring, trusting, flying,
sitting in deep silence waiting...
forgiveness walking,
gut wrenching talking,
seeing the beauty living...
touching, tasting, smelling...
you and me...
to be human!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Devil Music
They called him 'master'...
When he came.
To take them from the comfort of their homes.
Stripped of treasures,
And their names.
With nothing they could say,
And silent broken hope!
Forced to worship,
Strange deities.
And folks who treated them
Like they were beasts.
Some tried to flee,
The increasing heat.
But many found themselves soon in defeat.
The blazing burned their feet.
And the ones who ran were chased like enemies.
This fire...
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
Desired this fire.
To burn, burn, burn
Out of control!
Morning, noon and night
They'd call him devil.
And sang the music to him that he loved.
They would dance.
And together clap their hands.
This devil music kept them in a hold!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Yes this fire,
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
I said the fire...
It still keeps burning!
And it's blazing in a rage,
That's out of control!
The spreading flame...
Became higher.
So high it fixed in young minds,
Sold by the old!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burrrrrnin...
Out of contrrroooool.
'ssssyesssss...
Children! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We... (Stoned By The Struggle)
we, who are stoned by the struggle,
whose faces bear the marks of living.
whose hands tremble a little
as we unbutton the shirt...
whose eyes dim still see.
whose bodies smell like bodies,
whose feet need to be washed.
whose hearts whisper in the empty night,
whose souls restless roam the earth.
whose dreams have become the small things,
whose breath smells of brandy and smoke.
whose doors are unlocked,
whose beds are offered...
we, who are drunk with living!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Free Souls
Free Souls
Rise from the depths of the graves hidden way back by a thick fog of hate
Free souls
Surrender themselves to the red moon turned crimson by the blood stolen from their hearts
Free Souls
Tainted Scarlett by the filthy hands that cut their bodies like the cactus begging for moisture
Free Souls
Let out deep sad moans that make no words... moans that are harmonized by betrayal and pain
Moans who's' symphony cuts their ears like razor sharp insults...
Free Souls
Wonder in this circumference filled deep with cold dark debris... blinding them from hopes of ever seeing the morning glow....
Free Souls
Weep thick murky sewage flushed from others insecurities and selfishness
It runs down their eyes and bodies burning every hope of purity they tried to hold on too
Free Souls
Turn their bodies on all humanity as backstabbers throw rusted daggers into their backs
Laughing with disgust as they hope this will be the one way to take their freedom..
Free Souls
Fight to stand tall and peel off that layer on their bodies created by molested mouths breathing fiery words meant to burn their souls but fails as it disfigures their rotten tongues instead
Free Souls
Kneel as they become one with their bodies once again... their heart beat finds a familiar rhythm breathing life into them...
Their blinded eyes widen as their path becomes clear..
Their flesh heals from all the wounds...
Their lips move to the motion of sweet sounds manifesting from their hearts....
Their words shout out in song and praise to themselves... the waves destroying the weapons being cast at them...
Free Souls
Are are free... never to be held captive by chains inflicting sharp pain into their every being
Free Souls
Can now be FREE... free to see the morning glow
I AM NOW FREE.....
Lerato Ladyfair Shuping
January 8th 2009
poem by Lerato Shuping
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Under The Cover Of The Blanket Of Darkness
under the cover
of the blanket of darkness
we feel the beating
of the fears in our hearts
and our mouths
mumble the need of
hands
however, lonely as we are
we like the beauty of the
silent island
not wanting to touch
the cloud the wind
simply because there is
nothing there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day Is Done
nuclear fission, sins of omission,
hide your eyes, buy the lies!
hearts gone numb, minds struck dumb,
the flesh dies, stink and flies.
roll down the window, just past tomorrow,
trading souls, fighting for control.
politicians kiss and tell, on the road to hell,
the fire gone cold, nothing left to hold.
broken down, running on empty.
packs of wolves roam the cities.
children's bodies down in the alleys,
nowhere to run, day is done!
nowhere to run, day is done!
the curse of invasion, profitable occasions.
fly the flag, drums and bodybags.
different shades and colors, forgotten brothers,
it's easier to kill, than it is to feel!
the cries and the voices, ghosts of our choices,
rome burns, with every turn!
poverty's needle, almost inconceivable,
blood on the hands, blood on the hands.
broken down, running on empty.
packs of wolves roam your cities.
children's bodies down in the alleys,
nowhere to run, day is done!
nowhere to run, day is done!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Write....
i write...
what is given me to write,
with all consuming fire,
burning every branch of self.
i doubt all...
and therefore believe,
touching the untouchables,
with reverence and awe.
i chant...
with dirty hands plowing,
urine drenched eyes searching,
living beneath all thought.
i mourn...
hearing the lament of dead bodies,
doubled over with hunger,
no place to lay my head.
i burn...
with uncontrolled passion,
for the leaf, for the river,
and the prayers of small children.
i run...
just a dog among dogs,
barking and baying,
with the scent of raw life.
i love...
with hot breath panting,
with both candle and phallus,
the whisper of tender touch.
i fly...
beyond body and bondage,
beyond concrete and ashes,
dark wings seeking light.
i howl...
with pen and paper,
with human words scratching,
at the walls of the tomb!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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