Wings

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smsmmaleangel

 

wings to fly
arms to hold you
tenderly to my chest
never farther than a wish
closer still, than our dream.
Call, and I’ll come rushing
to stand at your side

a heart
of compassion
to comfort and console
when you’re feeling broken
or, when you’re filled with joy
in darkness and when light
shines brightly from above
for now and forever
you’ll always have
my love

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happy place

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bird

 

on a log i sit

in my happy place

 inhale the fragrance…

wood smoke and cedar.

 

attend the aria

of the nightingale —

her longing,

each twitter and trill,

writes to my heart.

 

a bird on a branch

me on a log

forever

 

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Twin Flames

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twinflames1

 

twin flames
independent
vibrations in harmony
across time and space
at opposite poles
of the earth

divine
masculine and feminine
entwined through
Absolute
Unconditional LOVE
with Gold of
Perfection

 

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UNIVERSAL EQUALITY

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global
In the past two weeks
I’ve had a lot of time to think
about important and unimportant things
(long story).
I have come to some very basic conclusions
as is my right and obligation.
They may seem obvious to some.

To others they may seem inflammatory.
Deal with it —
say what you want on your own page.

I believe that as humans
we deserve:
UNIVERSAL EQUALITY IN ALL ASPECTS OF LIFE,
UNIVERSAL ACCESS: TO FOOD, WATER, SHELTER,
MEDICAL TREATMENT AND AVAILABILITY OF MEDICATION,
UNIVERSAL ACCESS TO EDUCATION,
UNIVERSAL FREEDOM OF CHOICE OVER OUR OWN BODIES,
UNIVERSAL FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT,
FREEDOM OF SPEECH,
DEMOCRACY.

These are big issues
that have repercussions in news events
around the world.
I haven’t worked out all the details, yet,
but I have seen a lot of headlines on television
in print media and on the internet.

On our planet
we must eradicate (as much is humanly possible,
as opposed to what is economically viable)
HUNGER
DISEASE
VIOLENCE
HOMELESSNESS
BIGOTRY
WAR
(and others too numerous
to mention).

My neighbor:
MUST NOT starve while I eat,
MUST NOT die of illness while I have access to a cure,
MUST NOT BE CONFINED BY NATIONAL BORDERS
if his life, health, or opportunities
are at risk,
MUST HAVE universal access to the best education
in order to best express his natural abilities,
MUST HAVE equal access to meaningful, rewarding and satisfying employment,
MUST HAVE the freedom to make their own life choices;
these choices MUST NOT be dictated by GOVERNMENT
RELIGION, SOCIETY or self-proclaimed MAJORITIES.
LYNCH MOB DEMOCRACY MUST BE ELIMINATED.

In short, I AM my brother’s keeper.
I WILL treat him as I would prefer to be treated.
I WILL NOT be the cause of abuse,
whether physical, verbal, mental or emotional.
I WILL live my life
according to the best of my potential.

‘NUFF SAID (for now)…

 

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she chose me

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Abby-Beach-Oct2005

 

when i was a boy,

Spot,

a black and white Cocker Spaniel

chose me.

she looked like the dog

in our grade one readers

“Run, Spot, run!”

 

she was a stray

wandering around our neighborhood

looking for a home.

there were other kids she could have chosen

but, she chose me.

our family adopted her.

it changed my life —

i  had a friend.

 

in winter

she refused to go outdoors

in freezing temperatures.

she peed and pooped on our basement floor

with a shovel, my dad would pick up after her

once a week he would spray the floor

with the garden hose

 

Spot left us

like Peter Pan

when we stopped believing in her

 

when i walk through the woods

i imagine her, beyond the next bend,

chasing butterflies,

or being chased by rabbits —

she’s with me

always.

 

We’re All the Same

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evolution

 

I’m not an expert geneticist.
I’m not an expert in anything,
but, I read a lot.
I watch documentaries on television.
I have my own ideas.

This is what I’ve come to believe:
Around 500 B.C, Hanno the Navigator,
a Carthaginian explorer,
with sixty fifty-oared ships
visited the Galápagos Islands.
Hanno and his crew discovered gorillas
and gorillas discovered them.
Although the sailors could not make peaceful contact
with these creatures,
they considered them to be
related to humans.

Geneticists now believe
that archaic Homo Sapiens evolved
to anatomically modern humans
solely in Africa
between 200,000 and 60,000 years ago.
We all share a common DNA.
We are all one family.

Families have differences
They argue a lot.
Some of them move away and refuse to talk
to other siblings.
That’s natural,
it happens all the time.

We are all the same.
We seek happiness
and an end to
suffering.

 

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Baggage

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0ac94109a9e8e3971e7cb116be85d6d1

 

I’ll admit

that I’m a result

of all the decisions I’ve made in the past;

all the people who have influenced me,

in a positive or a negative way:

my loves, my breakups, my disappointments.

Without them, I wouldn’t be me

but, I don’t carry them on my back

they don’t define who I am now.

I create myself

from moment to moment;

otherwise,

what is the point of living?

The past is faded, imprecise memories —

people who are no longer what they seemed to be —

a view from a faulty lens.

I have baggage —

everyone does.

 

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Mermaids

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mermaid

 

Lonely drifts the solemn night.
Melancholy sighs
the evening breeze.
Love birds sing, on wing they soar.
Dreams are sailing seaward,
waves are lapping
hungry shore.

My paddle dips into the dark,
murmuring to mermaids
crooning softly in watery choir —
voices haunting, silvery, sweet.
I long to join them
in lullabies
of the deep.

Into the depths, I descend
(succumbing and becoming)
caressed by tresses of the mermaid.
Entrancing arms surround,
holding and enfolding.
Love undersea —
forever found.

 

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Cocoon

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IMG_4797

 

Over the past years
we’ve sat together
sharing a blanket
on the sidewalk.
You wrapped
in your cocoon.

I’ve observed,
as your spirit
(once battered
and cowering in fear)
emerged brave
and purposeful.

Gradually,
layer after layer,
your past fell away,
until now
your true beauty
shines forth.

I’ve grown with you,
learned from you,
opened my heart,
cried with you,
been comforted.

I celebrate with you
your transformation,
and (in friendship)
proudly accompany you
in your reincarnation
as a butterfly.

 

images-1

 

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Come Together

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qixi-m

 

eyes closed
not yet awake
nor quite asleep
arms and legs immobile
snug, secure
satisfied

I see myself
arise…
and float away…
(but, I rest here
confused)

body drifts
through the roof
no cold of night
only vibration
universe opens
it is I

female figure
appears
love light emanating
arm outstretched
in welcome
we come together
forever

 

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Heritage

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viking_ship_at_sea_amazing_ships_wallpapers_1024_x_768-1024x768

 

I stand proud
at the helm
of a dragon headed
Viking longship.
Salt spray lashes my face.
Canvas billows and flaps
with buffeting winds.

To appease Aegir,
god of the sea,
I have offered sacrifices.
He will protect me
on my voyage
through his realm.

Thor’s chariot,
drawn by a pair of goats,
rumbles thunder
across clouded skies,
as he wages war
against the Giants.

I love the sea,
but I’ll be glad
to get home to my wife.
She’s a warrior, healer,
teller and keeper of tales —
our heritage.

 

 

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Love’s True Song

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.Dark Girl Beauty Siren

 

always,
there has been
this longing —
(siren’s song
from far away)
pulling me
to paths untraveled
beyond the boundaries
of today

a voice
so sweet
that I must follow
through the night
on winds I ride
passions race
as heart beats thunder
love’s true song
can’t be denied

 

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Bridge

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bridge_in_the_sky-368430

 

through mist
I walk across a bridge
to a place
neither here
nor there —
somewhere
in between

from out the fog
a woman’s hand
takes mine
and guides me
to someplace
where yesterday
and tomorrow
are dressed the same

I go from where I am
to where you are
never leaving home
where what is
and what is not
are together —
wearing
the same name

 

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Essence of the Rose

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Rose-wizard-girl-magic_s

 

Dragons at my doorstep,
faeries by the fire
ease my mind of earthly care
to follow my desire.

Unicorns leave hoofprints
pressed into the snow.
Wherever they may lead me,
that’s where I will go.

Pages turn by magic,
fire within the prose.
Breezes whisper secrets,
essence of the rose.

Fill my cup to brimming
with liquid love divine.
Promise me eternity,
your heart holding mine.

 

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Hibiscus

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images

 
as I had hoped,
she waited by the pier,
her bare feet splashed
in the sparkling waves.
a wraparound skirt,
the color of the sea,
dipped occasionally
in the water.

behind her ear
a Key Largo hibiscus,
it’s color complementing
her flowing red locks.
beside her, a picnic hamper,
a blanket and desire
folded on top.

she hadn’t seen me yet,
my white, unbuttoned,
guayabera shirt
flapping in the breeze.
matching pants
their bottoms rolled,
a bottle of champagne
swinging at my side.

the style I was aiming for
was cool, casual chic;
my pounding heart
belied my sartorial selection.
at my approach,
she squinted into the sun
then sprinted
into my waiting arms.

her scent was sea breeze
and hibiscus.
her cheek against my bare chest,
hearts beating in unison,
eyes looked longingly
into each others,
our lips met.
the sun smiled
its blessing.

 

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Angel

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angel

 

I didn’t believe in angels
until I saw one.
Now, I know they exist.
I don’t expect to be believed —
it doesn’t matter.

There was shimmering,
a halo of light,
her beatific smile
and overwhelming love.
I was in awe.
I am still in awe.

She spoke magic,
like the trilling of a bird,
not immediately decipherable
to mortal ears.
Over time,
her wisdom apparent.

I look everywhere
for my angel.
Feel her presence
everywhere.
She has filled me
with unconditional love.

 

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The Lost Boys

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.polio-6-lg

 

I was a young boy with a withered leg,
abandoned, in a cold hospital bed.
Faceless attendants wore gloves, masks and gowns.
No parents for cuddles, kisses or love.

Alone were the Lost Boys with polio,
the silent, unpredictable killer.
Quarantined, isolated like lepers,
our only strength came from one another.

Expected to die, we boys joined forces.
We supported each other, forming a bond.
After lights were turned out we would whisper
together, “Shush, the Sisters are coming.”

Older patients had access to wheelchairs.
Sometimes they’d transport me to other wards —
to meet other boys was high adventure.
An empty bed usually meant a death.

Six decades since, in the still of the night,
after lights are out, I can sometimes hear
that haunting refrain I heard as a child,
whispered, “Shush, the Sisters are coming.”

 
 
Note: Polio was one of the most dreaded childhood diseases of the 20th century. By 1910, much of the world experienced a dramatic increase in polio cases and frequent epidemics became regular events, primarily in cities during the summer months which left thousands of children and adults paralyzed. The first polio vaccine was developed in 1952 by Jonas Salk and announced to the world on April 12, 1955 – Source: Wikipedia.
Image: http://www.immunize.org/photos/polio-photos.asp

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tears

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woman-crying

 

i feel your tears,
my eyes burn.
a cloak of heaviness
descends upon my heart.

i have no words
to console you.
nothing I can write
will remove your sorrow.

I’ve experienced
the pain of loss,
and known the joyousness
that thoughts of love can bring.

i sit with you
in soft silence.
i hear anger in your despair.
i pray for your healing.

 
 

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lullaby

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Autumn-Fairy-Cosplay-05

 

I sit
alone
and yet I sense
your presence far away
the pounding
of my heart
to you it speaks
this day
of love and lazy afternoons
colors paint the sky

the night
is ours
you fill my thoughts
in dreams you fill my arms
so sweet the sight
of fiery hair
of eyes so deep
and fingers long
your breath
and sighs
upon my chest
a soothing
lullaby

 

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Soon It Will Be Dark

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forest

 

i walked this path
when love was young
and buds about to spring —
colors bright, breezes soft
no want for anything.

there was a time
for boundless hope
and dreams of evermore.
now i wander aimlessly
my joints are getting sore.

where went this youth
these dreams and songs
that winged on words of love?
left with geese flocking south
chorus sounds above.

now the trail is sodden
with limp and trodden leaves;
gone the color and the spark.
trees and i are getting old
soon it will be dark.

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Careful With That Axe, Eugene

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barrettyoung.jpg

 

Eugene had a mind of his own,
not, as some would say, a sound mind,
but his own mind, nevertheless.

“It’s awfully considerate of you
to think of me here.
And I’m most obliged to you
for making it clear
that I’m not here.”

Eugene was a great musician,
taking music to the limit;
his songs will always survive.
Eugene took drugs to the limit;
he’s now in Interstellar Overdrive.

When we observed him with an axe,
you may understand our concern.
Was he in danger, or were we?

Eugene had already left us in spirit,
but he wandered away that day
and was lost to us forever.

 

barrettold

 

This poem is dedicated to the memory of “Syd Barrett (born Roger Keith Barrett; 6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) who was an English singer, songwriter, guitarist and artist. He is most remembered as a founding member of  band Pink Floyd, providing major musical and stylistic direction in their early work, although he left the group in 1968 amidst speculations of mental illness exacerbated by heavy drug use.”

Axe is also British slang for guitar. Pink Floyd’s use of the title Careful With That Axe, Eugene may refer to “Barrett’s behaviour (which) became increasingly unpredictable, partly as a consequence of frequent experimentation with psychedelic drugs such as LSD. Many report having seen him on stage with the group, strumming on one chord through the entire concert, or not playing at all. At a show at The Fillmore West in San Francisco, during a performance of “Interstellar Overdrive”, Barrett slowly detuned his guitar. The audience seemed to enjoy such antics, unaware of the rest of the band’s consternation.” (Source: Wikipedia)

 

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emerging

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butterfly-8205

 

emerging
from the darkness
into the brightest light
shedding the burden of my chrysalis
uncovering, discovering
the me held deep inside
for so very long

unfolding
and inflating wings
for the very first time
seeing my colors like the skin
of a kite drying in the sun
gradually flexing limbs
feeling the breeze

I tremble
experience the lightness
an updraft lifts me from my rest
to float, flutter and fly
over the green expanse
of the meadow

a miracle
a new life before me
as wide and as clear as the sky
never to be constrained
or limited in vision
as I have been
in the past

 
 

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Poetry by Dennis Cardiff

The Dissatis Faction

Dennis Cardiff, Author of Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People, regularly posts original poetry on his own WordPress site. One minute, you will find him delving into transcendent themes of love, while the next minute you’ll be brought back down to earth as he tackles themes of addiction with his literary grace.

His fantastic collection of poems and prose can be found here and I wholeheartedly recommend visiting his site and browsing the huge collection of refreshingly touching poetry whenever your day needs brightening. And almost as inspiring as the poetry itself, is the fact that his book is on sale for just $0.99, with proceeds going towards feeding the homeless.

So to those who say poetry cannot change the world, I present to you Dennis Cardiff, who is quite literally feeding the homeless with his beautifully woven words!

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Ardor

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bernini

 

with ardor
I take wing
on tongues of night
drawn to your essence
as thirst
to a mountain stream.
intense devotion
and burning heat —
I dream of us
tonight

your lips
beckon me
with liquid smile
and promises
of more.
your sweet breath
interlaced with mine —
I hunger
for your taste.

 

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Where You Pass

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trail

 

where you pass
your words fall
as gentle flowers
perfect
in imperfection

gathering the blooms
i embrace them
where they sing
directly
to my heart

up ahead
a woodland wren
leads me
to my destination,
to our home

 

wren

 

 

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Danced with Angels

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images

 

I’ve danced with angels —
the horizon and my heart
smouldering and blazing with fire

I’ve heard songs of sirens
crooning, moaning, lamenting
orgasmic cries of ecstasy

I’ve followed woodland nymphs
into secret, sacred circles
of overwhelming abandonment

I’ve flown with the chimera
beyond the astral plane
felt her fire on my loins

Like butterflies, they dance
to each erect, expectant flower
coming with their love

 

 

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Lost Brave

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images

 

a lost brave
leans against a building
(tho he is unwelcome)
beside a busy walk.
everything he owns
fills a pack
upon his back

he is far
from his fishing boat,
an ocean teeming with fish,
from the majestic forest,
from his children,
his clan

his eyes reveal
a story of hurt and pain –
the uncertainty of the city.
a sidewalk for a bed,
charity of strangers
his only grace

a challenge
every day –
a new beginning.
beyond the fire
that tames his demons
the only plan that matters
is to survive

far from home
he can scarce remember.
a lost brave, fighting back tears,
pride in the knowledge
of his ancestry,
his place –
his blood

 

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Street Angel

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da8d938f4e28aacdbcfa1d2004fa-500x333

I met a woman
who lives on the streets.
All her belongings
fit in her backpack.

She has sparkling blue eyes,
a smile that would light heaven itself.
She looked cold.
I asked her how long
she’d been on the streets.

She replied, “I don’t know….too long.”
She is forty-four,
but looks older.

She told me her story.
I won’t repeat it,
but, to give you
some idea,
recall your worst fears,
your worst nightmares
rolled into one.
That’s the way
her story starts,
it only gets worse
from there.

I brought her a sandwich
and a coffee.
She said, “God bless you.”
He did,
immediately.
A wave of joy spread
throughout my body
and stayed there
all day long.

I have been blessed
by an Angel.

 
 
 

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She’s a Chameleon

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motorcycle

 

She’s a chameleon,
the worst kind of drama queen —
beneath those jeans and high top boots
you’ll find silk lingerie.

She’s a champion
who’ll out cuss, drink and fight
outlaw bikers twice her size and weight
to come back for more.

A mouthwaterin’
straight razor totin’ mama
who won’t hesitate to cut you
if you do her wrong.

If you treat her right,
show her the respect,
she’s earned, battled for and deserves,
she’ll always have your back.

A chick with attitude.
black leather on the outside;
soft, sensuous and so smoldering
when the lights are dimmed.

Pull off those high top boots,
slide down her tight tattered jeans —
a devil in silk, a chameleon,
an angel of seduction.

 

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