En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Truth... Demands An Audience

i keep watching
old people dying...
with unspoken living,
trembling on their lips.

truth...
demands an audience!
the silent screams
of mountains and rivers defiled.

even the trees whisper,
the sad hurt of poverty.
the wind cries of justice,
in the empty rooms of god.

do you tire of this flame?
wish i'd go away?
give it time,
even my footprints will disappear.

trees will fall,
mountains will crumble.
and the oil raped rivers
will stink of death.

hungry mouths will go unnoticed.
without faces or names.
cities full of empty buildings
will murmur in the night.

and nothing will return
to claim it's just reward.
the unmarked stone stays silent...
even the silence tastes bitter!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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And So It Goes

A mansion on a hill is a lovely sight to see
But like any other house, its only temporary
Home is anywhere you choose to put your heart;
If theres no love inside, itll soon fall apart.
Ashes to ashes, dust into dust
Buildings will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love
And so it goes, with everything but love
You can drive around in a long limosine
If you dont know where youre going, it dont mean a thing
He whod walk a mile, just to hold an empty hand
Knows what it means, to be a wealthy man
Ashes to ashes, dust into dust
Buildings will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love
And so it goes, with everything but love
Worldly treasures will all pass away
Theres just one thing thats put here to stay
Ashes to ashes, dust into dust
Buildings will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love
And so it goes, with everything but love

song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And So It Goes

This song was first released on the stonehaven sunrise album. it is the only album it has been released on.
A mansion on a hill is a lovely sight to see
But like any other house its only temporary
Home is anywhere you choose to put your heart
If theres no love inside, it will soon fall apart
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Buildings will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love
You can drive around in a long imousine
If you dont know where youre going, it dont mean a thing
He whod walk a mile just to hold an empty hand
Knows what it means to be a wealthy man
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Palaces will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love
Worldly treasures will all pass away
Theres just one thing that was put here to stay
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Kingdoms will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love
Words and music by paul overstreet and don schlitz

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lips

lips...
written in darkness,
mouthing words
in unspoken language.
searching,
groping for reason...
trembling before
the soft underside
of the shell.

lips...
bruised,
and wanting,
saying much
with silent moves.

lips...
that pray,
and drench loving,
with the softest
and hidden,
bell of the hungry.

lips...
that cross bridges
and build stairways,
from empty rooms
to the warm beating heart!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Let the Spring Winds Blow

Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
No flight in the sky, where did it go
Known long ago, Korea was the rising sun of the East
Everywhere, tall trees, clear waters, blue skies To roam everywhere, to greet everyone
But that was yesterday
Spring comes to other countries, where everyone can travel
But winter snow blocks the path to my homeland Following year to year, people and seasons come and go
I am waiting, why are the spring winds not blowing
Winter is long and cold but spring must come
The seeds are waiting to bloom Spring has arrived, let us join hands
Let us plant trees on the mountains
Let us sail our ships on the rivers
Let us fly far into the sky

poem by Michael I. Byun
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The True Democracy!

the howl of the wolf,
the caw of the crow,
the growl of the bear,

the scree of the hawk....
the stamp of the deer,
the language of whales,

the whisper of the trees,
the silent affirming mountains....
the song of the rivers,

the chant of the grasses....
all raised in the court of living...
voices crying out against injustice,

against the works of the humans
that would destroy their home!
the true democracy has voted...

and we're out!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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My Beautiful Reward

Well I sought gold and diamond rings
My own drug to ease the pain that living brings
Walked from the mountain to the valley floor
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward
From a house on a hill a sacred light shines
I walk through these rooms but none of them are mine
Down empty hallways I went from door to door
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward
Well your hair shone in the sun
I was so high I was the lucky one
Then I came crashing down like a drunk on a barroom floor
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward
Tonight I can feel the cold wind at my back
Im flyin high over gray fields my feathers long and black
Down along the rivers silent edge I soar
Searching for my beautiful reward
Searching for my beautiful reward

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Howl (The Returning)

black eyed, hungry teeth,
souls drawn tight through a needle.
displaced, desolate,
lives packed on borrowed trucks.
padlocked doors, Wall Street roars,
dead soldiers coming home.
street corners, somebody's daughter,
selling shadows wrapped in dreams.
religious freaks, hangman's noose,
dark glasses see only white!
Christians and Muslims, russian roulette,
hollow threats and doomsday lies.
starving children, doors locked,
faces turned away.!
oil rigs pumping, dry humping,
the earth screams, 'it's rape'!
protesters marching, riot squads,
take away your rights.
prisons full, hard degrees,
anger has a price!

lovers meet, passion burns,
scars left by point of change.
wild eyed addicts, guns in hand,
taking what they need.
the righteous wake, it's too late,
their enemies their brothers.
mountains crumble, trees fall,
rivers full of sludge.
war cries, patriot lies,
grease the grimy wheel.
suffocate, dedicate,
dead bodies to the ground.
faceless rise, tired of lies,
too damned hungry to care.
common folk, dressed in black,
lift unspoken prayers!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Old Oak

In the shadow of solitude now I see Your eyes,
that so faithfully carry about the light
through my thoughts so dark,
and the pen trembles in the hand,
waiting for the prodigal son's acknowledgement.
My one and only, acknowledgements arrive in solitude's embrace,
just like tears, and where there is a tear, there is love,
always faithful and unbribable, invisible but so real
that you can touch it with thoughts
and with the fiery breath in the infinity of solitude.
I admit to using my verses as ransom for my guilt,
(and guilt is my silence) ,
and I listen to the rumor
that perpetually, like a bat,
whirls across the lonely poet's street.
They say that me and You,
my one and only,
are fantasy, but a pen immersed in ink.
But You know, don't You,
that me and You are perfectly real, full of wishes,
dreams and memories.
My one and only, I am listening to the whisper of the wind
in this warm, dreamy summer night...
It is silent, horribly silent without You,
and the wind's whisper is dying down, farther away, oh so far,
as if called by death to its black hearse,
and I have waited for so many days, months and years to appear,
to bring Your voice to me,
gentle, soft, warm and yearning,
but it is so silent, oh so silent now,
that I can hear the screams of solitude
chase away memories
into this warm summer night,
my one and only, I am standing in the shadow of the dignified oak,
and I am looking into his empty sleepiness,
as if its playfulness left along with You,
it is silent like the wind.
Its dear, green, eternally waking young leaves,
who used to whisper in Your vicinity, untrammeled and confidential,
are completely silent now, completely dead.
Now I am trembling in the shadow of our oak,
fearfully looking at it as it drags its dignified old face along the ground,
its memories are as lively as mine.
Once, yes, once the memories,
who live so inaudibly,
shall become so weak,
so humanly weak,
that they shall find their dark home
next to our wooden crosses.

© Walter William Safar

poem by Walter William Safar
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What If I Fell In Love?

what if i fell in love with a leaf,
became the tree that nurtured?
became the sun, the rain, and the wind,
and the turning of the seasons...
what if i fell in love with the lock
on the knob of the door to eternity?
what if you were the only key?
whose hands would make the turn?
what if i fell in love with shadows,
etched by the blade of hungry light?
whose face, whose form, whose scent...
whose imprint on my soul?
what if i fell in love facing death,
and you were my last breath?
would you breathe into me rivers...
rivers and trees, and stone laid paths.
what if i fell in love despite of...
despite of wars, poverty, and anguish?
would you restore hope to the hopeless?
and build a fire to warm the night...
what if i fell in love again,
and we met like strangers for the first time?
would your hand fit into mine?
could we find passion stolen by loss?
what if i fell in love because i have to,
because i want to, because i need to?
because life demands to be lived,
and time is but a moment!
what if i fell in love with a leaf...
what sound would it make when it fell?
would the world be strong enough to go on?
would the sun ever rise again?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Stop!

stop!
look! and listen!
just for one moment....

turn and look at the faces
of all those around you.
can you see the need?

the desire? the hurt?
can you feel the lonliness?
hearts beating... just like yours!

listen to the earth cry out!
to the dirge of the rivers.
to the sad farewell of the trees,

the mountains... the birds,
the wolves, the fishes.
a part of you dying!

and that low lonesome sound....
can it be the voice of God
singing that song which

has your name?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Footprint, A Face...

do not mountains,
trees, and rivers live
their time, and die?
does not the sun
rise in the morning
only to lay down at night?
are not universes born of dust,
only to return to dust?
why should we be any different?

all that lives but a fleeting glimpse
into the workings of eternity.
yet everything that comes and goes
leaves an indelible mark,
a footprint on the water,
a face put to the wind!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Talking.... (Who Listens?)

even the silence of the night talks,
small children talk in their dreams;
old people talk staring out windows...
trees talk shedding leaves,
empty buildings talk to ghosts;
dead bones talk to the wind...
the wind talks those who mourn.
the hungry talk to their oppressors,
the prisoner talks to the walls.
the desperate talk to the noose,
lovers talk with simple touch.
soldiers talk to their fears,
the unborn talk to our decisions.
the moon talks to the night,
and the night talks to the dawn.
the soul of man talks,
and calls it god.
the conscience talks to the heart.
death talks to the living....
who listens?
who really hears?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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For More!

the longest scar
on the face of a rose,
speaks with silent venom,
thunders when it opens!
a thousand deaths,
that love might live,
footprints that lead nowhere.
the bitter taste
of self, and empty...
the body plowed,
cries out for rain.
hungry, for more!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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How can I empty My Mind?

Came out that emptiness,
Bored of what I was,
Looking at the atom shining somewhere in me,
I looked at wonderful world I entered,
Looking at beauties with beautiful faces,
I was only the faceless,
Wished to have a face!
Result is what I am now,
Facing problems of having a face,
Not seen by myself!

Some say look into mirror,
But mirror showed image which is not me,
How can live this is me looking at image?
In the path I met some one,
They said ' you suffered a lot,
Empty your mind, be happy, '
But how can empty my mind,
So many fill it everyday,
Hungry faces,
thirsty minds,
Needy hands fill compassion,
lusty and greedy, selfish and cruel fill
people fill pain,
Wise one fill wisdom,
Fools fill laughter,
Friends fill it with love and smile!

How can I empty my mind,
When beauty around,
Smiling kids, playing puppies,
Jumping and running kittens,
colourful fragrant flowers,
Surrounded by bees and butterflies,
Green trees with wide hands full of fruits,
All call me to enjoy with them!

Tall standing trees and stubborn mountains,
lakes and oceans full of life,
they fill my mind as much I empty, more they fill!

I emptied mind in meditation,
But the beauty of one who filled beauty in all filled my mind,
How can empty love for that beautiful one,
Who is that beauty in all that's beautiful!
Smiling and loving people,

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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I Am Nothing!

nothing....
i am nothing,
nothing but the breeze

walking through the trees.
nothing but the caw of the crow,
the echo of the mountains' silence.

nothing but the empty bowl
held by the hungry child.
nothing but the dark face,

the white hands,
spoken in different languages.
nothing but the blood,

of the family killed by the bombs.
nothing but the lonely terror
of the suicide just before dawn.

nothing but the footprints
the lonely traveller follows
on the way back home.....

nothing but the leaf
turned from green to red to brown.
nothing but the memories

of love calling back to you.
nothing but a prayer,
an offered hand, an unknown friend,

a tear, a smile....
the dance of the living,
a small fire on the darkest night!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Silence.....

silent thoughts
silent dreams
silent horrors
silent screams

silent pains
silent refrains
The cold black
silence attracts
silent wisdom
silent thoughts

A want for more is what silence sings
but is love on the menu, all but contiversy
butnow have u realized wat silence can bring?
hopless insanity if u can read....
sound is wats need to go through life
but all awhile silence is that unwinnable fight

push with all ur power
hope with all ur dreams
but you get no second chance
you only deserve screams

but those screams are silent, hopeless....
insanity........

poem by Tommie Cobb
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The Day, And The Coming Day!

we are the day,
and the coming day.
the cities painted with despair,
the houses built left abandoned.
the seeds we altered,
the trees we cut down.
the mountains we mined,
and the seas we defiled.
the peoples we left homeless,
left to die in poverty and hunger.
the ships we sent to the moon,
the smoke from the great factories.
the daughters we sold into slavery,
the sons we executed on profit's battlefields.
the lie, the drug, and the drug of the lie!
the temples we built
to gods that taught us to kill.
the prophets we killed with righteous indignation.
the bodies we left in our prisons of justice,
the flags we wore to defile our hearts.
we are the day,
and the coming day.
now skies have turned grey,
the air filled with our empty!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Wanton Song

(page/plant)
Silent woman in the night, you came, took my seed from my shaking frame.
Same old fire, another flame, and the wheel rolls on.
Silent woman through the flames, you come, from the deep behind the sun
Seems my nightmares, have just begun
Left me barely holding on.
With blazing eyes you see my trembling hand.
When we know the time has come
Lose my senses, lose command
Feel your healing rivers run
Is it every time I fall, that I think this is the one
In the darkness can you hear me call
Another day has just begun.
Silent woman, my face is changed
Some know in ways to come.
Feel my fire needs a brand new flame
And the wheels rolls on.... rolls on.

song performed by by Led Zeppelin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Of The Trees

My town is a place where
The rich tourists come,
With mountains and rivers
That glint in the sun!
Luxuriant beaches
Of ivory sand,
But all the jade forests
Now no longer stand!

There once were lush jungles
That grew dense and tall,
But woodcutters came when
The town was still small...
They hacked all the trees down
And shipped them away,
In huge merchant vessels
That sailed to the bay!

They went back to Europe
With precious hard woods,
Sold it as furniture
And other fine goods...
I wish I could travel
In time to the day
Before people cleared all
The forests away!

I wish I had seen them
Before settlers came,
The mountains and rivers
May still be the same...
Iron, Yellow, Black Wood
And most of all trees,
Don't sway any more in
The fresh coastal breeze...

This poetry is an adapted poem for
Lisa La Grange, her copyright,2012.

poem by Denis Martindale
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Matamoras Banks

(Each year many die crossing the deserts,
mountains and rivers of our southern border
in search of a better life. Here I follow the
journey backwards, from the body at the
river bottom, to the man walking across
the desert towards the banks of the Rio Grande.)
For two days the river keeps you down
Then you rise to the light without a sound
Past the playgrounds and empty switching yards
The turtles eat the skin from your eyes, so they lay open to the stars
Your clothes give way to the current and river stone
'Till every trace of who you ever were is gone
And the things of the earth they make their claim
That the things of heaven may do the same
Goodbye, my darling, for your love I give God thanks,
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros banks
Over rivers of stone and ancient ocean beds
I walk on sandals of twine and tire tread
My pockets full of dust, my mouth filled with cool stone
The pale moon opens the earth to its bones
I long, my darling, for your kiss, for your sweet love I give God thanks
The touch of your loving fingertips
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros banks
Your sweet memory comes on the evenin' wind
I sleep and dream of holding you in my arms again
The lights of Brownsville, across the river shine
A shout rings out and into the silty red river I dive
I long, my darling, for your kiss, for your sweet love I give God thanks
A touch of your loving fingertips
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros banks

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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