Why, Why, And Why?
another tree cut down,
another tanker filled with oil.
another book gets banned,
another protest on American soil.
another politician lies,
another banker forecloses.
another family on the street,
another small business closes.
another mill shut down,
another farm goes bank.
another river polluted,
can you put that in your tank?
another child becomes an addict,
another young girl sold like meat.
another old man dies....
dancing to the beat....
why, why, and why?
cant you hear your children cry?
are we too beat down to try?
the eagle spreads its wings...
.........and flies!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
The Bells Of Freedom
do the bells of freedom ring
every time someone dies of starvation?
every time a child is abused,
every time a woman's left alone
to raise the kids...
every time a young boy hangs himself,
every time an addict steals his fix...
every time a boy is shot dead in the street,
every time a mother weeps....
every time a boy goes off to war,
comes home in a bodybag....
and no one knows why.....
every time a family is evicted,
with nowhere to go....
every time a factory gets shut down,
and the workers walk away with empty
lunchboxes and shattered dreams.....
every time a minister gets up to pray,
and the silent, grieving, walk out...
every time a young girl gets beaten
by a pimp in a back room....
every time a family farm is taken,
every time a tanker leaks oil...
every time a prisoner is executed
for something he didnt do....
every time a protestor gets arrested
for standing up to be counted...
do they ring? and are they
the chimes of freedom....
or the bells of passing....
saying their final farewell!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All American Girl
Skin tight soul delight
Changing her life for another
She dreams magazines
Sees herself on the cover
Anything anytime anywhere
Its fitting in that matters
Faithfully she believes in the look he wants to know better
She knows what she wants
Shes an all american girl
She knows what she needs
Shes a sold american girl
She knows what she knows
Shes an all american girl
She does what she does
Shes an all american girl
Sold american
Shes got a double bubble with a bossanova back
Shes a real hot pepper and I like it like that
Its all right you dont have to change your way
Youre all right Im hoping the best part stays
She knows what she wants
Shes an all american girl
She knows what she needs
Shes a sold american girl
She knows what she knows
Shes an all american girl
She does what she does
Shes an all american girl
Sold american
Street smart close to the heart gotta be real
More than the clothes you wear
You know what youve got look to your heart
You carry your history there
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Unappeasable Host
THE Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold,
And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes,
For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies,
With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold:
I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast,
And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me.
Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea;
Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West;
Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat
The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost;
O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host
Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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One Beat Away
One beat away from all I own
One beat away from where I've grown
One beat away from all the stars
One beat away from Jupiter or Mars
Let that beat stay away for awhile
So I may still see your smile.
One beat away from all my pride
One beat away from by your side
One beat away from songs I love
One beat away from the skies above
Let that beat not come around
So I may hear your breathing sound.
One beat away from quiet prayer
One beat away from all we share
One beat away from all this pain
One beat away, I can't remain.
Let my memory stay with you.
Ah! sweet love, I say adieu.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Dancin' In The Streets (live)
Hey, comin' out around the world be ready for a brand new beat
Oh, summer's here and the time is right, oh, for dancing in the street
Dancing in Chicago (dancing in the street)
Down in New Orleans (dancing in the street)
In New York City (dancing in the street)
All we need is music, sweet music (sweet, sweet music)
They'll be music everywhere (everywhere)
They'll be laughing, singing, music swinging and dancing in the street
It doesn't matter what you wear just as long as you are there
They're dancing (dancing in the street) oh oh
This is an invitation across the nation the chance for folks to meet
There'll be swinging, swaying, music playing and dancing in the street
Philadelphia, PA now (dancing in the street)
Baltimore and D.C. (dancing in the street)
Can't forget them other cities (dancing in the street
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sounds Of The Earth
i feel the sounds of the earth,
cant say how or why!
the hurtling swagger of rivers,
the deep bass stillness of mountains.
the whispered longing of the trees,
dancing naked in moonlight.
the hymn of the grasses,
calling forth life.
the groan of the earth,
just turned by the plow!
i hear the reggae beat of the cities,
the hum of movement and work.
the chords of factories and mills,
the horns blown by the shops.
even the hollow beat
of business, of buy and sell.
and the low gutteral moan,
of the homeless, jobless, and lost.
feet without names,
marching without direction.
the cries of young children
afraid and hungry in the night.
the bang of the idol chasers,
the wranglers, and the pimps...
some working the market,
some working the parish.
i hear the sounds of the demons,
that cry war in the night.
that bang the bloody drums
of patriotism and fear.
i hear the sounds of the guns,
the thunder of the bombs.
the last prayers of young men,
dying alone in their fear.
i hear the shuffle of the money,
the boots beneath the table.
i hear the sound of the shovels,
digging grave after grave.
i hear the pen on the page,
as history is written,
in a book that not even
hell could contain!
i hear the churning of stomachs,
the grating of bones.
the tremble beneath
paper thin flesh.
i hear bare feet on the road,
the poor seeking refuge.
i hear the women weeping
as child after child dies.
and i hear the clank of glasses,
food shoveled on plates.
the shallow laughter,
the hypnotic hum of excess.
the condemning guilt,
food thrown in the trash.
the restless panting of the dogs,
just outside the door.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dancing In The Streets
Hey, comin out around the world be ready for a brand new beat
Oh, summers here and the time is right, oh, for dancing in the street
Dancing in chicago (dancing in the street)
Down in new orleans (dancing in the street)
In new york city (dancing in the street)
All we need is music, sweet music (sweet, sweet music)
Theyll be music everywhere (everywhere)
Theyll be laughing, singing, music swinging and dancing in the street
It doesnt matter what you wear just as long as you are there
Theyre dancing (dancing in the street) oh oh
This is an invitation across the nation the chance for folks to meet
Therell be swinging, swaying, music playing and dancing in the street
Philadelphia, pa now (dancing in the street)
Baltimore and d.c. (dancing in the street)
Cant forget them other cities (dancing in the street)
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am.... (Hand Of Silence)
i am the fire raging out of control,
the blade of the shadow on poverty's neck.
the broken sound when no one can hear,
the cold feel of the gallows,
the wings of the dead bird.
i am the raccoon trapped,
and the fury of loss.
i am the waiting that kills,
moment by moment.
i am the hand too tired to touch,
the baby just born that no one wants.
i am the ribs showing on the starving child,
the refugee fleeing with nowhere to go.
the smell of despair at the county dump,
the apartment without curtains or furniture.
i am the soldier killed who hesitated with conscience.
i am the prisoner afraid of both detention and freedom.
the young gay teenager who hangs himself,
the pregnant girl who takes too many pills.
i am the protester beaten and left on the sidewalk,
the old man alone without food or heat.
i am the touch of Jesus in the addict's eyes,
the street bum sleeping in the alley.
i am the farmer whose farm was taken,
the family left without a home.
the 40 year worker in the unemployment line,
the young girl taken and sold as a whore.
i am the Buddhist monk who sets himself on fire,
the rebel imprisoned for speaking the truth.
i am the millions of young who cant afford school,
the millions of workers who cant afford insurance.
i am the immigrant deported,
whose family has no chance.
the young mother caught stealing food.
i am the morals hidden by despair and anger,
the conscience of the poor holding the gun.
i am the color of skin covered with blood,
the face of god in strays of all kinds.
i am the Buddha weeping,
the body of suffering....
the hand of silence covering the grave.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Beat It
They told him don't you ever come around here
Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear
The fire's in their eyes and the words are really clear
So beat it, just beat it
You better run, you better do what you can
Don't wanna see no blood, don't be a macho man
You wanna be tough, better do what you can
So beat it, but you wanna be bad
Just beat it, beat it, beat it
No one wants to be defeated
Showin' how funky and strong is your fight
It doesn't matter who's wrong or right
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
They're out to get you, better leave while you can
Don't wanna be a boy, you wanna be a man
You wanna stay alive, better do what you can
So beat it, just beat it
You have to show them that you're really not scared
You're playing with your life, this ain't no truth or dare
They'll kick you, then they beat you
Then they'll tell you it's fair
So beat it, but you wanna be bad
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stacked With Crack
He was doing 60 in a 20 mile zone
You could see this man was stoned.
When he stopped at the light his eyes were red
He looked as if he was dead.
He was laughing so hard he could not stop
And out came the smoke and the smell of pot.
It’s a shame that they can’t see
The things they do that can hurt you or me.
A child was getting ready to cross the street
A school guard was there at his beat.
He took off like a bat out of hell
He hit the child and then she fell.
He took off and did not look around
And there laid the child on the ground.
They say he got three blocks away
Crashed and died that day.
The child went to the hospital
with scratches and bruises
But his family was the ones that were losing.
They lost their son on that tragic day
Because smoking pot got in the way.
The joint they sold him was laced with crack
The odds against him was fully stacked.
They never found out who sold it to him that day
But with crack, you do not play.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Hands Of Time!
the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
the church locked empty,
boxes to beds in the alley.
the old man who cant forgive
what the young boy did.
the hands of a small child...
the hands of time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am The American Eagle
I Am The American Eagle
I am the American Eagle
with a broken right Republican wing,
and a broken left Democrat wing,
its 'We the people' body tattered and torn.
It needs pledges of help
to its God Bless America body,
for the Eagle spirit to heal.
Its 10% White Collar head
has lost control of its 90%
Blue Collar welfare soul.
For the American Eagle
to become strong,
we must quit
outsourcing its welfare
and unite with its talons
saying NUTS
Never Under Tyranny Surrender
the American Eagle spirit
that unites this nation.
That America is not 10%
but 100%,
where elected officials
need to be 100%
not 10%.
That we do not need
economic morticians
but 100%
American eagle POLITICIANS,
who are not bickering
Republicans
and/or
Democrats
but 100%
Americans.
'I pledge allegiance
to the flag of
the United States of America,
and to the republic
for which it stands,
one nation under God,
indivisible, with liberty
and justice for all.'
Feel these words reach deep inside America,
It is not a pledge to Demigod
Republicans and Democrats,
Nor is it to Wall St or Private Equity.
It diversity is not just
Conservative, Progressive, Liberal
Or Moderate or Independent,
Rich, poor,
It is even homeless.
Swiss bank accounts,
Overseas tax havens,
It is about investing in America
That we now need 100% pledges
For the American Eagle NUTS talons,
Never Under Tyranny Surrender
Our American 100% heritage
to the future of our children.
So the eaglets can fly
with both wings.
David Lester Young (Franklin Doppelganger) 07/06/12 ©
poem by David Lester Young
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Dancing In The Street
Calling out around the world
Are you ready for a brand new beat
Summer's here and the time is right
For dancing in the street
They're dancing in Chicago
Down in New Orleans
Up in New York City
All we need is music, sweet music
There'll be music everywhere
There'll be swinging swaying records playing
Dancing in the street
Oh it doesn't matter what you wear
Just as long as you are there
So come on ev'ry guy grab a girl
Ev'rywhere around the world
They'll be dancing
They're dancing in the street
It's just an invitation across the nation
A chance for folks to meet
There'll be laughing, singing, music swinging
Dancing in the street
Philadelphia, PA
Baltimore and D.C. now
Can't forget the Motor City
All we need is music, sweet music
There'll be music everywhere
There'll be swinging, swaying, records playing
Dancing in the street
Oh it doesn't matter what you wear
Just as long as you are there
So come on ev'ry guy grab a girl
Ev'rywhere around the world
Dancing
They're dancing in the street
Way down in L.A.
Every day
Dancing in the street
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dancing Naked
I met a young girl today,
she said she be at 6th avenue and 48th street,
that's where we can meet,
and just then my heart beat a little bit,
she said five pm that is where I'll be,
I will be dancing in front of the clothing store,
with nothing on, protesting what been going down,
so I go on to 6th avenue and 48th street,
just befor five pm,
there is noise,
man there jive,
everything is so alive man,
when I see her,
I am so happy to be alive sir,
cause she is there dancing naked,
just like the day she was born,
just like the day she was born.
poem by Walter C. Edwards
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Dancing In The Street
(are you ready to let it happen to you tonight?
Oh, yes ... do it, man ... here we go)
Calling out, round the world
Ready for a brand of beat
Were all here, time is right
Dancing in the street
There out in chicago
New york city
All we need is music, sweet music
Therell be music everywhere
Therell be ? ? ? swing
Records playing
Dancing in the street
Doesnt matter what you wear
Just as long as you are there
Come on, come on, now
Every guy grab a girl
Oh, everywhere around the world
Let it, dancing in the street, dancing
Dancing in the street, dancing
Invitation, across the nation
Chance, folks want to meet
Therell be laughing, singing
Music swinging
Dancing in the street
Philedelphia, pa
Baltimore and dc, now
All we need is music, sweet music
Therell be music everywhere
Therell be ? ? ? swing
Records playing
Dancing in the street
(all right girls, do it to me, here we go)
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River, Grace
Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.
The river comes to me.
The river flows on.
Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”
Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.
The river comes.
The river flows.
Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free
The river comes.
The river flows.
Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.
River, come to me.
River, flow on.
And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.
They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.
And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.
poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
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A Question of Family -Values...
the child is confused
for when she tells the truth
about this
family's mess
she is warned
not to expose the
dirty linens
she reasons out
what is wrong with
the truth
is it not that the truth
sets us free
as mother once told
her?
papa says not all
truths must be
preached
family secrets for
instance
what a shame!
but it is a shame
then why did this
family do it?
shut up
the father shouts
at the little girl
and slaps her
small face with
his huge hands
the very reason
why you have seen
this little girl
on the street
crying
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Funny - Fat Cat
Once, there was a white cat
Who was really, really fat
So fat
She looked like a bat
Who has eaten a huge rat.
The cat was walking in the street
Following a beat, with her feet
Tic, tac, tic, tac
Tictactictactictac
Looking for anything to eat
Milk, fish, tuna, meat...
But what a pity
The street was empty
So empty
Not even a birdie
To make her get nasty.
The cat kept walking in the street
Following a beat, with her feet
Tic, tac, tic, tac
Tic, tac, tic, tac
Looking for somewhere to sleep
Bed'n'sheets? Get real! Just a seat...
But she didn't find any, what a shame
Because she was really lame
So lame
She had forgotten her own name
And from where she originally came.
So she kept walking in the street
Feeling the heat, and pain in her feet
Tic, tac, tic, tac
Tic, tac
Looking for someone to blame
Same situation, same game...
Then, the white cat
Saw a tiny red hat
One hat
She ran, jumped and sat
In it, what a lucky cat!
But since she was really fat
She got stuck in the hat
So stuck
She looked like a rat
In a cheese trap.
A dog came walking in the street
Following a beat, with his feet
Tic, tac, tictac
Tic, tac, tictac
He saw something red
So he stopped near the cat's head:
'Haha! Cat, you pay the fees
For acting so bad with your peers! '
'Help, please'
'Call me bad boy, I love to tease
I'm getting outta here, say cheers! '
Then a bird came flying in the street
With his wings, following a beat
Tictactictactictac
Tictactictactictac
He saw something red
So he stopped above the cat's head:
'Oh, poor white cat
Are you trapped in this hat? '
'Damn I am! '
'Let me help you, sad little cat
Here, you're out, care for a chat? '
Rumors I heard
Say the cat ate the bird.
poem by by unknown author
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From A Dead Beat To An Old Greaser
From a dead beat to an old greaser, heres thinking of you.
You wont remember the long nights; coffee bars;
Black tights and white thighs in shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world made of dummies (with no mummies or daddies to reject them).
When bombs were banned every sunday and the shadows played f.b.i. and tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture --- sat in the station sharing wet dreams of charlie parker, jack
Ac, ren\e magritte, to name a few of the heroes who were too wise for their own good --- left the young brood to go on living without them. old queers with young faces --- who remember your nam
Ough youre a dead beat with tired feet; two ends that dont meet. to a dead beat from an old greaser. think you must have me all wrong. I didnt care, friend. I wasnt there, friend, if its th
Ce of pint that you need, ask me again.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Apocalypse, And Good Bourbon
apocalypse, and good bourbon.
the beat of the news feels like
shovels digging graves by themselves...
deaths without purpose, lives
without purpose....
the cash register rings,
someone else is evicted,
another factory shut down!
the stench of oppression
is almost unbearable....
fresh manured fields of lies,
pull the strings of the puppet,
make him dance....
(you cant see them,
cant touch them,
they're insulated, shut off
from the sounds of hunger
and naked hearts beating!)
and down the street an old man
dies alone in a rundown house.
the shades are pulled, no one
notices... his old dog
guards the body, waiting....
while two young lovers make love
in the back of an old car...
two young gay men hand in hand
walking and talking....
two babies are born,
and two more die....
apocalypse, and good bourbon.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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