The Evolution Of Revolution Poem by Eric Cockrell

i can still taste,
frozen moonlit blood night
dripping from my fangs,
can feel the earth writing pawstruck,
the cool damp loving grasses.
still shudder with the howl,
that opens and spills my soul,
my eyes alive and searching
for the hint of passion.

pour a glass of wine,
we'll speak softly
like civilized men and women...
talk of books, ideals,
the evolution of revolution,
and paint a portrait of god.

still the drums beat,
the wind calls with a lover's need.
the trees mumble with magnetic sweeps,
and the night boils like blood!

pour a glass of wine,
we'll speak softly
like civilized shells
lying empty on the beach.
longing for that old longing,
the evolution of revolution...
but we would be gods!