We Are Dirtbag Paddlers

We are Dirtbag Paddlers

In River we trust

Whether bouncing on Odeck

Or riding Center Chute's thrust.

Always we’re wearing 

A piece of River crust.

We are Dirtbag Paddlers.

We surf from dawn until dusk.

Our perfume is River--

Not lavender or musk.

On land we’ll be drinking

Or tossing eaten paw-paws’ husks.

We are Dirtbag Paddlers

Winter, spring, summer, fall.

We laugh at the tourists

Who think the sport’s seasonal.

They don't know that the River

Is our Risperdal.

We are Dirtbag Paddlers,

And hippies we be.

We may all have jobs,

But we long to be free

To commune on our River,

In Nature's sanctuary.

We are Dirtbag Paddlers
To the River our minds wander.
We dream of the pulsing waves
That crash on us like thunder,
And pray that they kindly
Not break our boats asunder.

We are Dirtbag Paddlers.
We wait until the night
To welcome each full moon
With a surf by its light,
And hope not to hit rocks
For dim is our sight.

We are Dirtbag Paddlers!
The River Gods we beseech
To save all our Rivers
From the evil Russian's reach
And remove Putin's puppet--
Make Congress impeach!

We are Dirtbag Paddlers.

The River is our teacher

That though we are human, 

We are but a creature

And completely dependent

On Mother Earth’s greatest feature.

We are Dirtbag Paddlers.

We come drink at the fount,

And pray that She overflows

With rain from the Mount.

So we strive to stay green

In our Karmic account.

Rainy Surf Pt 2

The gray dreariness of a long rainy day

Is where I find my Life’s Namaste.

As I approach the River, my Totem Heron awaits

And says, “Look around and forget all your mistakes.

There's none to see your failures; none to see your successes.

It's just you and your board and your Lover’s caresses.

And though you have 1,000 surfs or 1,000 swims,

You are still but a slave to Her weakest of whims.”

So I bring all my Life's pains & all its desires

And lay them on the River’s holy pyre.

And by her fire, I am saturated.

And the voices of self-doubt at last are sedated.

In those silent hours, I finally find my surf,

And sing songs of thanksgiving for my Riparian Rebirth.

Rainy Surf Pt 1

The gray dreariness of a long rainy day

Is o’ercome with anticipation of a new wave in play.

As I walk down the halls, past the patients in their beds

The floor turns to waves that I surf in my head. 

The doctors, the nurses, the addicts may rage,

But to all I’m immune as I watch the river gauge.

At last morning comes, and from work I escape.

My heart overflows as I spy my board’s shape.

Away to the River, I scurry, I flit.

On my Lover’s curves, I find my respite,

Trading my burdens, my sorrows, my pain

For two hours of surfing alone in the rain.

THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON

I come to the river in secret 

When the moon is full.

That seductive sorceress calls me

As the sacrificial bull.

When I approach the river 

With only board in hand,

Mythical creatures surround me--

All called by Her command.

On the rock sits our heron,

But he's a bird no more;

He's more the gangly warrior,

Guarding the River's door.

And frolicking in the water

Are fish and nymphs alike.

The mermaids sit upon the rocks,

Hair glowing in lunar light..

Even the dimmest stars 

Have a life of their own:

They dance like painted ladies

In gowns of silk they have sewn.

And the breezes down the gorge

Summon me along

To the sacrificial altar

With their celestial song.

So I jump upon my board

For I know what I must do.

Our feathered warrior nods approval,

Allowing me to pass on through.

To the altar I paddle,

On this my final flight.

The creatures watch, all chanting,

"Goddess powers all unite!"

Then my senses tingle

As moonlight creates a dome.

It shines far below me,

Illuminating the maelstrom.

A pearlesque enchantress

Descends from the moon

And with finger touched to water,

Makes the whole earth swoon.

My board begins to disappear;

My hands begin to fade.

I can't tell the diff'rence

Between myself and the wave.

Then, utter silence!

My mind is no more.

I awake to the sight of boaters

All standing on my shore.

They quickly paddle to me

And surf upon my curves.

Sometimes I like to throw them off

When they start to swerve.

They bring to me their sadness,

And I return euphoria anew.

For with my lunar sacrifice,

My dreams have all come true.