Eric Cockrell Poems

picked up late summer,
convict pipe streets,
cuffed and stuffed,
tagged and thrown
...

you cant feed the fire
with human limbs.
you cant touch the sky
when you're afraid of the dark.
...

the stench... rising,
from your halls of justice,
from your plate glass
Wall Street windows,
...

the majority, the 99%,
now owned by the elite!
a new tidal wave of slavery,
that feeds the wealthy,
...

if i reached up
and plucked the stars
from the darkest skies,
if i pulled the rain
...

the longest scar
on the face of a rose,
speaks with silent venom,
thunders when it opens!
...

twas a long haired revolution,
when the world was still young!
crosslegged beads, and a pipe,
and peace was the chant.
...

it has been said
that God spoke worlds
into being...
and that Jesus
...

may my feet
follow my heart,
may the door to my heart
open both ways.
...

another baby born...
dependent...
on a system
that dictates economic
...