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Kiss1

We peeshaw, as we age
sometimes, the best and most
tender side.

We develop defenses against
abuse, harden to survive.

The baby opens to a kiss,
a smile is from God.

Love and life renews, the earth
spinning around the sun jumps;

it all connects and makes sense,
Love the grease—

moments of bliss decorate the
stars that shadow the face,

Gods and Creator myths smooth
and become real, the water
bending, not breaking around
the rock as palms too weather
the storm.

Fearlessly we kiss; we love and
say thanks!

Then we meet the hard edge,
the stone itself, the back of a hand,
rejection and sarcasm tearing flesh
and ideas of what it all means.

We see a large mass of people
going one way as they age—

It seems “cool” not to love…

Life, what a mess.  Sometimes to
figure it out you gotta be Elliot
Ness, wear a cross on your chest
and love your enemy.

Heaven may be a peace of mind,
eternal lines to time growing,
a cosmic energy you put out
that was positive,

the Karma of that regenerative,
gods and myths blending into one
tender kiss on the mouth of faith.

You can love hate away with belief
and well-placed kisses;

You may be killed in that eternal
embrace, self-will dying in the
ashpit of truth as we take up the
cross that is loving in all conditions,
a default perfection.

Love is one thing.  Its detractor
sleeps next to it, needing your
words to separate it and keep it
at bay as we grow up tempted to
act as old as we are.

Good teachings challenge us to
discard the untruth of age, stay
young, forget our pain and hurts—

land that kiss on Daddy’s mouth
to honor God and forgive his and all
our sins.

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