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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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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Paradise

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couple2

 

paradise
our embrace
a timeless moment
never forgotten

cool water
laps our bodies
a fiery cauldron
burns our loins

forever
never enough
to experience
skin on skin

perfection
of appearance
the matching
of passion

our gaze
penetrating
as bodies
join

 
 
 

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Night Birds

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imgres

 

summer
sweet oceans
of silent surrender
cry with me
fly with me
birds of the night

soft is their serenade
lovely like lemonade
share with me
bare with me
into the light

high fly the night birds
coming to carry you
winging and singing
longing to life

 ever and never
and lifetimes together
tease with me
please with me
lasting the night

your soul
with my soul
was half
now is whole

 
 

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The Willow Guides My Way

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In China,
Kuan Yin (who represents compassion),
is sometimes portrayed holding a willow branch
symbolizing her capacity to bend
in the face of the most fierce storms
and winds of life
without being broken.
 

74403445.F1KNBnoa._MG_3035wc2

 

I was lost, but now am found,
was fear, but now am love —
from sunrise to compassion,
the willow guides my way.

Sunlit days and starlit nights,
seasons change from green to gold.
Blackbirds perching row on row
await the winter’s chill.

Worrier to warrior,
completeness is my quest.
With each breath out I die,
breathe in, I’m born again.

I was lost, but now I’m found,
was fear, but now I’m love —
from sunrise to compassion,
the willow guides my way.

 
 

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Spirit

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floating

 

Sun shines through
a pickerel sky,
loons
rock on the water.

I feel a presence
by my side,
hear whispers
and some laughter.

I know that if
I turn my head
I’ll only see
the cedar.

My eyes I keep
on trails ahead
in hopes
that I might see her.

Spirit, you fill
my heart with love
yet, nowhere
can I see you.

A glimpse (perhaps),
or in my dreams.
I long so
just to touch you.

Your hand to take
within my own,
my lips
to brush your fingers.

Please grant to me
this simple wish.
I’ll remain
forever grateful.

 
 

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Now and Forever

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evening

 

lavender breeze
through lilac and lace
evensong, windsong
let’s find a place

just off the trail
look for an evergreen.
memories we’ll make,
beyond what we dream

soft on a blanket
from branches hang lanterns
raspberries, blackberries
shadows make patterns

stars in the night sky
just us together
kisses will find us
now and forever

 

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Black Lace and Lavender

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sunset

 

fly with me,
cry with me,
black lace and lavender.
hold me, enfold me,
long into the night

lay with me,
play with me,
rivers to oceans,
cedars and saplings,
such sweet summer sweat.

astound me,
surround me,
astonish me ever,
sweetest surrender,
for now and forever.

take of me,
taste of me,
succulent sorceress,
drown me with kisses
’till dawn’s early light.

 

 

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Lover Boy

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fabianperez09
 
 
I knocked softly
on her apartment door.
A sexy voice called out
“It’s open. Come on in!”
I entered the dimly lit room,
hazy with cigarette smoke
and incense.
“I would have greeted you in the hallway,
she said, “but, as you can see
I’m not dressed.”

I sat on the edge of her bed,
luxurious with gold
bedspread and pillow covers.
It was not a bed for sleeping.
She lay there languidly
in a black camisole
and black, thigh high,
fish-net stockings.

Between blowing puffs of smoke
she said, “So, what will it be, Lover Boy?
The usual, or do you want me
to add a little spice?
I think you should beg me.
Get down on your knees,
show me how much you want me.

“Did you bring me a gift?
You know how much I love sparkly things.
You did? How nice!
Do you think you deserve a reward?
Come closer, don’t be afraid,
Lay your head back.
I’m going to take away
all your troubles.”

 
 
 

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