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Sonnet: Let God Have His Ways!

If things don’t happen in the ways they should,
And plead I did for justice umptine times,
Why should I for the clumsiness then brood?
Instead of dinars, they give me just dimes!

Why should I care when I am not to blame!
My honest work will prove its worth someday;
My ‘bosses’ have no conscience or shame;
The files are made to look unfit their way!

But am I eager for my promotion
From hearts of stone and unfair, unjust hands?
Their words are like a poisonous potion,
Inviting me to join clandestine bands!

God will do things for me in His own way;
I ought to be most patient till that day.

poem by John Celes
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Handprints On The Knob!

bound and cuffed,
i break through
the paper veil
surrounding your body,
and lap at your heart
with my tongue.

you broke the sparrow's wings,
yet he flies with the memory
of flight and pure desire!

you speak softly,
and the waves are stilled.
even the moon
loses it's grip!

small children draw your image
in the dirt with holy fingers,
and whisper, 'mother'!

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Late Spring Frost

spreading straw over young plants,
to protect from a late spring frost.
counting nickels, dimes, and quarters,
to pay the rent.
turning down the pot to simmer slow,
listening to the news with a hollow ache.,
thoughts come and go, the air still chill.
nothing changes much, except the date.
a half a tank of gas, and a borrowed hoe...
hands moving in silence, back to the sun.

death waits patiently, like an old friend.
never asking for much, in a corner by the door.
the terror of living comes in gasps that tremble,
always afraid to leave something undone.
the book unsigned gathers dust on the table,
the old dog groans with knowing surety.
days marked on the calendar, invisible ink...
spreading straw over young plants,
to protect from the late spring frost!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Cry In The Night...

one last drink,
and a cobblestone prayer,
a hat creased by dreams,
boots made of flesh.
nickels and dimes,
revolution and light.
while shadows dance,
amid cobwebbed desires..

and the sparrow's lament,
mourns over buildings lost.
over lives soon forgotten,
over hunger and loss.
while the faces of children,
burned into the grain.
to the words of a god,
forgotten by name!

now liberty's nails,
rust beneath the load.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Worship

I know a quite religious man
Who utters praises when he can.

Now I find God in bard and book,
In school and temple, bird and brook.

But he says God is sweetest of all
Discovered in a drinking-hall.

For God requires no costly wine
But comes on the foam of a crockery stein.

And when that foam is on the lips,
Begin then God's good fellowships.

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poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Intoxicated Love

'What's love got to do with it? '

Tina?
Tina, Tina, Tina?
Anna Mae Bullock,
You are a head 'Turner'
But...

At one time...
When I thought of life,
As a hustle.
To produce pennies, nickles
And now worthless dimes.
Love,
As I knew of it then...
Was a waste of time.
And the furthest thing from my mind.

Seeking that hustle,
With hopes to muscle up respect.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life Gone Crazy

shots ring out,
sirens wail.
street grinders turn,
the gates of hell.
we push and shout,
we take and drive,
aint nobody
gonna get out alive.

the price of life,
nickels and dimes.
faceless souls,
redeem the time.
the weight of skin,
and rusted chains.
take a pill
to numb the pain.

life gone crazy,
life gone mad.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Brass Spittoons

Clean the spittoons, boy.
Detroit,
Chicago,
Atlantic City,
Palm Beach.
Clean the spittoons.
The steam in hotel kitchens,
And the smoke in hotel lobbies,
And the slime in hotel spittoons:
Part of my life.
Hey, boy!
A nickel,
A dime,
A dollar,
Two dollars a day.
Hey, boy!
A nickel,
A dime,
A dollar,
Two dollars

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poem by Langston Hughes
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Cameo Pt.3

It was on a sunny day when I was to run and play
A pick up game on a team, one was home, one away
We stayed out in the park until well beyond dark
It was no big deal cause the streetlights were sparked

We walked right by some people gettin high
Heard the music full blast drowning out the baby’s cry
From the corner of my eye I saw him walking on my side
Looking so weak I could’ve sworn he would’ve died

When I turned to face him he reversed a few paces
Said that he was sorry and I felt full disgraces
Looking for some change and didn’t mean to rearrange
My course, but he felt like he was losing all his brains

Gave what I could find and my boys gave him some dimes
He gave a gracious thanks and then moved back up the line
A Jag pulled up behind us, we stared like we were mindless
He hopped in it and said 'Thanks again for the kindness'

poem by P.R. Prosper
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Come On!

we live in an angry world...
victimized by indifference,
by greed, by intolerance...
we have lost direction.
and we are to blame.

we can go to the moon,
build great buildings, cross oceans,
talk to people around the world via the web...
yet we cannot stop hunger,
cannot eradicate poverty,
cannot provide shelter and medical care
to the masses...

come on!

we are led by insensitive wealthy people,
who sell our souls and bodies
for nickels and dimes...

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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