A Pebble Is A Mountain.....

i was there the day you were born...
you were there the day that i died....
i entered your mother with fevered passion,
you were the grandmother knitting outside.
i killed your son in battle,
you buried my wife in an unmarked grave.
you baptized me in the river,
i lit the fire when you were martyred.
you went to sea in search of a new land,
i sat in my tepee waiting for death.
you slew me with righteous indignation,
i prayed to the Great Spirit for your soul.
i worked forty years to feed you,
you stole the cross from around my neck.
i led the immigrants by night,
you waited with a gun and a badge....
you died inside my prison,
i felt the blow of justice.
i starved outside your window,
while you drank and danced till dawn....

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am... (I Am Not...)

i am the unions.
miners, teachers, steel workers,
nurses, factory workers,
standing strong and united,
demanding human decency,
fair wages and benefits.
i am not communism.

i am the common man and woman,
saying prayers with their hands
as they work;
driven by the faith in family,
teaching respect, gentleness,
and firm convictions
to their children.
i am not the elite.

i am the bruised, scarred human being.
i have fallen time and again.
i have built great dreams

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Beneath The Feet Of Love....

be it only then the phoenix
that rises from the ashes?
then who walks the valley of bones,
hearing voices from another world?
whose footprints in the waters?
whose scream etched in stone?
whose hands rising from the darkness,
whose grunt births the dawn?

can you feel this heat of nearness?
the softness inside this shadow?
even the candle's flame flickers,
as if whispering some hidden truth!
and the moments tick by shaking tambourines,
while words undress revealing sound...
it must be the sound of silence,
or the name not yet revealed.

i am the tongue cleaving to your breastbone,
the taste of hunger bitter on your lips.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Letter From God (Part Two)

dont call my name anymore.
you dont even know what i am!

for every tree you cut without thinking,
you're cutting into me.
every river you defile with your waste,
you're defiling me.
every ocean you poison with oil,
you're killing me!

you fear hell?
hell is your own creation,
the result of your actions!
quit blaming it on me,
you did it!

smokestacks polluting the air,
bombs falling on helpless people.
nuclear reactors melting down,
jobless men and women standing in line.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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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!

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Living Prayers

we who govern by living prayers,
not the kind spoken in constant dull repitition.
who find wealth in not owning, and being owned,
who see justice as governed by equality!
who believe in one race, the human race!
who remain hungry until all are fed!
who know wars to be both the sin
and the condemnation of man.
who walk in determined peace.
whose only religion be kindness...
who accept each other as we are,
without the need to convert or change!
who believe that all life is sacred,
and that the earth is hallowed ground!
who identify god in the stranger,
knowing that there be no strangers,
only brothers and sisters.
whose deepest self can be found
in the rain that falls without being asked!
we who dare to touch,

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Battle.... (We Have Fought)

the battle we have fought for so long,
as a 'free' society...
in the name of justice, equality, diversity,
responsibility, and freedom...
has reached the point of decision.
we either move forward no matter
what the cost...
believing the dream is worth the price...
or we crawl back into the cave
of self-fulfillment at the cost of all others.
prejudice and discrimination have gone from color
to religion to sex and sexual orientation,
and now to those enslaved by poverty.
we cannot turn our backs on each other...
we cannot allow the few to destroy the world.
we are responsible, we are a part of each other.
when one is hungry, we are all hungry.
when one family is homeless, we are all homeless.
when one person is a victim
of prejudice, hatred, and injustice...

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Walk Inside The Wind...

of war and peace,
Tolstoy wrote,
and Dylan rhymed with angst.
while Woody fought the fascists,
and hopped the midnight train.
Martin spoke for equality,
unafraid of bullets and chains...
and the Kent State students,
stood against unholy war.
mowed down by their own people,
yet nobody's keeping score.

now time immemorial,
calls both the child and man.
for dignity and humanity,
to rise and take a stand.
to hold the truth of open hands,
to see beneath the skin.
to preach the gospel of give a damn,
to walk inside the wind...

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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When the Rent Comes Due

i was thinking about New Orleans,
i was thinking about the ride.
now you dont know my name,
you dont even know i tried.
if you think you're angry now,
if you think you've lost it all....
what you gonna do
when the rent comes due,
and i aint across the hall?

you used to call me baby,
i used to rock your world.
work all day and love all night,
you were my baby girl.
but we fought too many battles,
i lost too many wars...
fire to ice, truth to lies,
and you walked out the door.
if you think you're angry now,
if you think you've lost it all...

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Running Towards The Fire!

we run towards the fire,
falling stars, sucking up the darkness.
what we want, what we need,
what we believe, who we are!

standing on the stage,
waiting on the curtain to rise.
i put my hands in my pockets,
and stare down at my feet.

the lights turned down,
waiting on the roar...
i realize without thinking,
'i just dont care! '

take destiny's stone statues,
and close forever's book.
there are no faces in the darkness
imposed by the self.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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