Too Many Lies
too many lies,
desecrate the ground.
the footprints of fallen angels,
covered by the dust of hate.
spoon fed history turned bitter,
the sound of children's voices lost.
even the old juke joints,
deserted and vacant.
handmade guitars,
strings made of human flesh.
the howl of an angry wind,
pierces cardboard shelters.
cars abandoned on the side of the road,
fresh turned earth, no hands to plant.
passion's legs wrapped around,
the bodies now hollow.
young girls fall like rain,
forgotten by time.
to be madly in love,
and pant with desire...
all echoes and rust!
when bibles become weapons,
and the cost is too high.
dead poets whisper,
neath the old hanging tree.
flags flown at half mast,
and the factories are closed.
and you just cant remember
your grandfather's face!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Howl (The Returning, Part Two)
gods hate, too damned late,
you worship what you fear!
while buddhas whisper
behind hidden doors,
and leaves fall from trees condemned!
souls traded, manipulated,
for a loaf of bread.
childrens' bodies, wrapped in money,
never make a sound.
bought votes, sacrificial goats,
toe the party line.
buildings blaze, justice burns,
the bells of liberty chime.
the human hand rises from the rubble,
grasping at poisoned air.
the tears of those long since dead,
fall like nuclear rain!
love me, hate me,
see me with your eyes.
feel me, touch me,
treat me like a man!
voices lost neath stained glass windows,
only the memory of need.
the final blow, blamed on god,
the result of human greed!
while naked bodies walk dirty streets,
their holiness defiled.
the stranger calls, the light falters,
as we trudge the final miles.
the eagle screams, hot flesh dreams,
the child raised by wolves...
the only hope, human desire,
and the will to light the torch!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Let The Memorial Hill Remember
Let the memorial hill remember instead of me,
that's what it's here for. Let the par in-memory-of remember,
let the street that's-named-for remember,
let the well-known building remember,
let the synagogue that's named after God remember
let the rolling Torah scroll remember, let the prayer
for the memory of the dead remember. Let the flags remember
those multicolored shrouds of history: the bodies they wrapped
have long since turned to dust. Let the dust remember.
Let the dung remember at the gate. Let the afterbirth remember.
Let the beasts of the field and birds of the heavens eat and remember.
Let all of them remember so that I can rest.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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EMBERS n a FIRE ABLAZE
MEMORIZING, how the embers are flickering
each flame seems to be dancing
wood thats crackiling 4m the heat
and both it and the fire are bickering
as to the charcoal we added, now is turning 4m black to grey
and the wood starts to burn slowly, as it withers away
ashes...flying all around...up high in the air
pieces fallen upon us, as they fall to the ground
ashes that now have turned to dust
as the fire flames leap high, and the fire is so alive
each spark has spoke, with the words made out of smoke
speaking the words....of my love and lust
as each wind gust
reinforces it over n again
the truth that lay on the tip of my tongue
i wish i knew, what to say..what ive been waiting
to say to you...but everytime i try to....
i freeze, and begin the hesitation
as each flame reaches high, headin 2wards the moonlit sky
and as ember begins anew, as the wind and ash have flew
i catch the flickering shadows at play..streaming along your handsome face
then a small wind blew...a small circle around me n you
the forces of nature freeze the time
and across the fires, that slowly dim
then sets a bright blaze...i whisper into the wind
practicing what i want to say to him
my heart stands still as i take in the fill
of the handsome glow of your face
the only sounds...are of the wood crackiling on the ground
the very sound, of my heart that grew a bit
LOUD, as i recaptured the shadows across your face
over the fire pit....my heart skipping in place
in this frozen moment of time..as you come near, closer to my side
now the space was yours and mine...just for a moment in time
all that i could hear, was the echoes of the fire, and the fast beat
of my heart thats jumped with a start, as the 2 sounds seemed to just coincide
each phase of the burning fire, filled me with so much desire
turned the heat up within me
from the top of my head to the tip of my feet
hotter then the fire...ablaze..was my desire dancing in the flames
caught the out; ike, contour, and shadows of your georgeous face
embers that flew, around unto the ground
all around in the air..as the wind slightly blew
as it surrounded us 2
whispers of my love, lust, as the embers have all now turned to dust
as now would ever compare, not the fire, nor it blaze
but as you stood there
bit by bit......in the smoldering glaze..of the fire pit
as it n i caught the handsome shadows that played across your gorgeous face.........................
poem by Krissi B'williams
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Scent Of The Lover....
i am still water, moonlit and waiting.
i am the crucifix made of fingers,
the letter written in blood.
the fool tripping over windmills,
the beacon from a distant shore.
dust in the corner, dew on the grass,
the eyes of the racoon,
the bat hanging upside down.
the whisper of moss,
the depths of the cave.
the pine tree fallen across the path.
i am the kiss long silent,
the iron skillet, the tin cup.
i am the body of the wind,
without beginning or end.
i am the child alone,
and the woman abused.
the angry man, and the broken glass.
i am the farmhouse deserted,
the voices of ghosts.
i am the spirits of slaves,
who call in the night.
i am the cock and the dawn,
the howl of the dog.
the pilgrim beaten and robbed,
and left for dead.
i am the cry of childbirth,
and the shout of death....
i am the scent of the lover,
that stains your soul!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rings Of Gold
Gene thomas
I remember when you said
With this ring I thee wed
Now youve gone betrayed my trust
Rings of gold have turned to rust
Tears cant wash away the sin
Love thats dead cant live again
Knowing theres no hope for us
Turns those rings of gold to rust
Plans we made just yesterday
Sands of time have chipped away
Now theyve crumbled into dust
Love before was clean and pure
Never more can I be sure
You will not betray my trust
Rings of gold have turned to rust
Rings of gold have turned to rust
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Help Us Continue Our Legacy
As I ripe I get dropped
From the tall tree
That was supporting me all through
I was a flower
Later blossomed
Got fertilized
Turned a unripe fruit
Kept hanging till the time I became a fruit
My thin skin becoming dark blue
My flesh over my big seed turning violet
I did not what happened to my mother tree
Unkind she proved as
She allowed me to fall her height
I suffered as my skin got ruptured
Exposing my violet inside
Staining the ground where I reached
As I looked around
I realized that I am not alone
As many of my brothers or sisters
Were also seen on the ground
After the fall I could not move
As the ousted flesh of mine
Made me stuck to the spot of my fall
My mother was just looking at me
With no attempt seen from her
To comfort me or to attend my wound
As our mother was a road side tree
We, fruits, were lying immobile on the road
Pedestrians, cyclists, two wheelers and cars
Ran over many of us
Coloring the path way violet
And also crushing our soft seed beyond recognition
I wonder whether we are born just to be
Smashed like that or we are born
To be consumed by others
For the purposes of propagation of our order
I have a request to people who walk over us
Kindly bend down pick us up
Blow air over the exposed flesh to remove adhered dust or sand
Put into your mouth
Enjoy the taste of a wonderful fruit
After ensuring you have eaten the entire flesh over the seed
Spit the same on soil
Where it will sprout and become a tree
Thus helping us continue our legacy
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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In The Small Things...
it is in the small things that we die,
in the breath of cardboard boxes,
and the silent scream of forgotten things.
in the scent of pine needles fresh fallen,
and the sound of the creek crossing rocks.
in bat droppings, and abandoned nests of straw....
in smoke curled into the candle.
in squirrels' prayers to fading light,
and the sound of tires on an endless road.
in clouds hanging just above the treetops,
in the single chime of the church bell.
in the broom sweeping the floor of the soup kitchen,
in old men telling lies and shuffling to keep warm.
in the baby curled against the breast,
in the letter never finished.
in the faces of god on milk cartons,
in the wino pissing in the alley.
in the 'i love you' that you choked on,
and the silence that replays.
in the coffee pot singing hymns,
and gravestones whispering to each other.
in the empty barracks and unloaded guns,
in the bare limb tree that still believes.
in the thunder of the butterfly's wings,
in the wrinkles on the old man's face.
in the forgotten nails of the abandoned house,
in the footfall of forever's ghosts
poem by Eric Cockrell
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But Your Name....
who are we then to linger?
the pine needle bed turned brown.
the sky filled with emptiness,
where wings once sang in glory.
the mountain path deserted now,
footprints borne away by the wind.
as time exacts its heavy due,
leaving nothing as if a gift.
we who dared to speak of love,
who drank deeply with abandon.
who lit the candle as if it would last,
who dared the darkness to answer.
who kissed neath moonlit trees,
and danced till we were drunk.
who made love as if we owned the clock,
as if the leaves would never turn.
do you remember? lest we forget,
what was done, what was the cost!
when rivers flowed on summer's eve,
and the mockingbird naked prayed.
when wars were fought and lives were given,
and old women wept for they knew.
while the child slept in a dresser drawer,
and the dog bayed at the wind.
now passion curled in the stump of the tree,
the axe takes with head bowed low.
the trail of lovers sap gone dry,
on the bare belly of infinity.
the owl struck mute leaves the night,
with only the sound the wind betrays.
tis not god nor judgement but your name,
that pens damnation on salvation's breast!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Life For The Living, Nothing More!
he lies awake,
the room cold and dark....
except for moonlight pouring
through the curtainless window....
she lies naked, wrapped into
every pore of him,
their breath hanging like small clouds.
the smell of love and woodsmoke,
the heartbeat of silence
resonates off bare walls....
no money, little food, tomorrow
to look for work......always tomorrow!
the sound of gunfire, and children's voices
haunt the back of memory forgotten.....
they called it history, the great change....
maybe just looking to fill the pot!
but for now just now,
the moment stolen and precious....
life for the living, nothing more.
he turned and wiped the hair from her face....
prayed the minutes would be slow,
watching her sleep!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Freedom Rant, Part Two... (For Greg And Terence)
socialism, existentialism,
the pages are revealed.
patriot lies, god dies,
unmarked graves in a field.
the addict weeps, cold hard streets,
poverty has a heavy hand.
discrimination, salvation,
leaving footprints where we stand.
single mothers, live for another,
food stamps and minimum wage.
desperate young men, without a friend,
commit acts of senseless rage.
the prisons turn, the money earned,
fills the bellies of greed.
children taught to kill, against their will,
to survive, to feed the need.
those who slept with goats, and came in boats,
to steal the land of the free.
buried the bones, beneath time and stone,
became written history.
now the sins of the past, come due at last,
the slaves rise against the lie.
feet cross the line, eyes read the signs,
for it's liberty or die!
the farms foreclosed, bankers pick their noses,
the factories shut down...
streets filled with ghosts, businesses closed,
nothing left but the sound.
of family trees, brought to their knees,
and babies born in empty rooms.
where roaches crawl, blood spattered walls,
black eyes, needles and spoons.
while Bibles scream, in human dreams,
of the gospel of flesh and bone.
suicides, mass genocides,
stones stacked upon stones.
hungry faces, leave human traces,
on words spoken without a voice.
beneath the gun, dare we stand or run,
we stand before our choice.
Fox News, for those who refuse,
to feel anything at all.
whose bloodless hands, sign time's demands,
on the dawning of the fall.
the guns of war, as ignorance roars,
but who falls victim to this day?
backs turned too long, hearts turned to stone,
is it too late to pray?
nay, i say! another way!
one chance to make a difference...
for it is this act, taking dignity back,
that is the cost of our forgiveness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Reevaluations
I’m not a husband to a good woman,
I’m not a father to precious children,
I’m not attached to anyone or anything,
I can easily, in a moment, cut all strings,
And I have abandoned everything.
But I saw a young dad
Walking with three little girls,
They were holding his hands
And dancing by his side,
I turned my head and wept for the tenderness
I have denied myself.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Behind The Final Curtain
it is then only this....
the bark peeled from the ancient tree.
the yowl of the cat in hunger,
the slap of wings against gone.
tis the height of passion;
i have turned my deepest colors,
yet my dreams have begun to fall...
i cant stop them.
and the sound of voices like hammers on tin,
be the bottle broken before it hits.
when memory becomes history,
and tired clouds wink and disappear.
the setting sun tastes of vinegar,
as smoke rises in wistful plumes.
and beliefs crawl in empty nests,
while squirrels madly drink and die.
as holiness runs like rain,
down the trunk and into the ground.
the sacred dance of the senses,
while lovers touch in secret closets.
and the world pregnant with desire,
waits behind the final curtain!
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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Black Balloon
I almost fell into that hole in your life
And you're not thinking about tomorrow
'Cause you were the same as me
But on your knees
A thousand other boys could never reach you
How could I have been the one
I saw the world spin beneath you
And scatter like ice from the spoon
That was your womb
Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
Or are you someone's prayer
You know the lies they always told you
And the love you never knew
What's the things they never showed you
That swallowed the light from the sun
Inside your room
Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
And there's no time left for losin'
When you stand they fall
Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you grow colder
All because I'm
Comin' down the years turn over
And angels fall without you there
And I'll go on to bring you home
All because I'm
All because I'm
And I'll become
What you became to me
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonesome Farewell...
lonesome farewell...
wind blown dust,
cardboard boxes in the rain.
the doorknob broken,
the window nailed shut.
empty fields, briars and thorns.
a dead rabbit rotting
on the side of the road.
signs falling down,
tree limbs on the ground.
silence screams, waves of grief!
the smell of want, forgotten lips.
words cling like cobwebs
to the empty walls...
where are you now?
where are you now?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gathering Dust
They sink into the ground with silence,
Voices we’ll never hear making a sound,
Only wishful smiles appear in a trance,
Gathering dust where the names are found.
They cannot rise from the deep isles,
To raise a smile even to murmur a sigh,
More darkness pours into the abyss,
Sunlight has closed time against the sky.
Idle flowers bowed in quiet solitude,
Left to revive by the morning early dew,
Flatten with footprints walked in tribute,
Push the hollow ground from distant view.
There they lay on bed of silent dismay,
Awaiting eternity, bodies gathering dust,
Old moss and rocks cover the mystery,
The verdant grass becomes a blanket of rust.
In disguise spirit rise to fly like an arrow,
Leaving the resting place to gather dust,
They may return as forces in a shadow,
And walk over grass where they lay the host.
poem by Gerry Legister
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Rusty Angels
They say you came from heaven but I know thats not the truth,
Cause I dont think an angel could look anything like you,
Your eyes are made from sapphires and your heart is made from stone,
You gotta be the closest thing to hate Ive ever known,
And if I didnt know better Id say you had come alone to the party.
Oh yeah.
The light is always shining, but you swear that its gone black,
The tide is always turning, but youre never looking back,
If I didnt know better Id say times were pretty bad,
Because rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, yeah,
Rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, gonna die.
The gifts you bring are fire, and your dreams they turned to dust,
Your flying days are over, and your wings have turned to rust.
If I didnt know better, Id say all you had is lost,
Because rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, yeah,
Rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, gonna die.
If you swallow just a little pride, you might find a little love inside,
Open up and let somebody in, cause if you need somebody,
You know its not a sin.
Rusty angels they cant fly, rusty angels gonna die, yeah,
Rusty angels they cant fly, no, rusty angels gonna die,
Gonna die, yeah, you cant fly, oh no,
Gonna die, oh yeah, you cant fly, oh no.
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hammer Purged By Rust!
in cursed dread
with iron thoughts,
the rebel plows his fields.
neath napalm skies,
infested by drones and crows,
his hands are bound by time.
tis murder by execution,
truth revealed by blood!
the carnal cross,
the skulls of dreams,
and virgin bodies for seed.
who pays the price,
who tames the beast,
the child devoured by wolves.
with flags betrayed,
by human conscience,
and gods that shed acid tears!
and the sound of voices swells,
till the earth trembles and shakes.
faces drawn on tombstones,
with crayons made of flesh.
do we pray with tongues
stricken by disease?
do we kneel or dare we fight?
freedom's just a remembered thought,
and justice stinks of lies!
yet still the rebel casts forth,
with seeds stolen in the hour of need.
pulling nails from grey casket lids,
with a hammer purged by rust!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In The Image Of Man!
ancient Greek legends,
footprints carved in stone.
and yes the fires of Stonehenge,
and the medieval forests.
wooden ships sailing
on seas mapped by loss,
even Atlantis, but a memory.
Rome burned,
fed by the bodies of pride.
and men cut trees
until there were none.
a simple carpenter
reclaimed love by cost...
and bodhisattvas bore
the suffering of many.
men created god
in the image of man.
with war on his breath,
the color drained from his face.
destroyed the books and the temples
of the sacred feminine...
and so lost their hearts
in the shells of their egos...
feeding and gorging,
and bartering souls.
and the price of flesh
became the way.
they mined the earth,
pumped oil from the sands,
and defiled their oceans,
until there were none.
and Mother Earth wept,
the wind hid her face.
the womb closed,
the air stunk of death.
and the kingdoms of man,
crumbled and fell...
the gods of war,
turned away!
somewhere she waits,
her breasts on fire...
in the still darkness,
conceiving the dawn...
who will go?
and who will remain?
when the tides of time....
return?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Unwanted Dreams
She's caught in a twist of fate
Not knowing whether to love or hate
Bleeding more with each breath she breathes
She's as dead as a tree without any leaves
Cold, and all alone in the dark of the night
This is her rock bottom after her lowest flight
Burning her eyes with every tear she cries
After all the cheating, denying and lies
She only wants to leave this place behind
But she forces a smile and pretends its alright
What else can she do? Where else can she turn?
The only thing left is her life to burn
All those pictures of a once upon a time
A fairytale turned nightmare, left behind
Her Cinderella dream turned to unwanted things
Though she'd love to leave, to fly away on angel's wings
I looked in the mirror and remembered this face
And how it once was one i tried to erase
The dust that's covered this broken heart of mine
Is now lost somewhere in the sands of time
poem by Ciara Owens
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