Eric Cockrell Poems

we who walk
with the stink
of humanity...
...

the soft touch
of your hands
brushing mine...
...

i am nothing more
than a thousand slivers
of broken glass,
in a deserted alley
...

whether it be
old and young
white and black
Asian and Hispanic
...

i feel very fortunate to be able
to write, and to share my thoughts
and feelings
i also feel a responsibility to write
...

the silent grave
swept clean by time,
knowing only the wind
...

just a broken down car,
had to push it out of the road....
put my last ten dollars in gas....
...

real sexuality
lies in the
art of giving
...

so few have
the courage
to stand up
and speak
...

the truth is
that the lie has worn thin
and tastes like vomit
in the mouths of the hungry,
...