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A Land Gone Black Global Nightmare

A Land Gone Black global nightmare
seems to be a spectral image that haunts
global interaction political world trade

commerce sets base minimum price
virgin land is exploited for all resources
ripped greedily but not wisely ground

renewable resources solar wave wind
are discarded with industrial grip contempt
for decades by oiled robber baron despots

once I thought in a Moment In Time

“The flash of the president’s pen
deals with the life of men.
Starting a war settling a score

all happens so far away.”
But the poor ever suffer among us

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Time For A Little Praying

where could I go
now to find a prophet
who could explain

a brief simple literal
exemplified extended
a metaphor definition

of precious praying relative
to 21st century greed global
selfish inhuman indifference

hear main man told me
your praying every time
when you kindness stop

to help any stranger
struck by bad luck side
of life's lonely road

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Poetry.... (Bare Open Hand)

poetry does not pay the rent...
does not buy cars or houses,
does not sell stocks.
does not wear suits and ties,
does not barter, is not profitable,
cannot be bought or sold.

but poetry opens forbidden doors,
builds bridges in the darkness...
embraces the soul left alone.
pours balm on open wounds,
brings a mirror and the cost.

poetry asks questions that the soul whispers,
knows well the language of trees and rivers.
dances naked in the moonlight.
prays prayers we're afraid of...

poetry disarms the violent.
kisses, touches, makes love.

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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By The Fire... (Part Eight)

build a bridge, or build a bunker...
your choice!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Nobody Cares

another baby
unwanted, unholy death...
and nobody cares!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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there are no chosen
people, no special people,
just human people!

haiku by Eric Cockrell
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By The Fire... (Part Seven)

if you choose to walk away,
it is your self you're walking away from!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Crayon

your lips, the crayon,
color me hungry, wanting
to open your eyes!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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battered and bloody
i face myself one last time
- opening my hands!

haiku by Eric Cockrell
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i am you, you me,
we are one prism defined
by our hands, molded

haiku by Eric Cockrell
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