war of the petunias

a beautiful day out
flowers happy
birds singing
i have my coffee
and creamer

with few aches and pains
a small nag between the shoulder blades

what did i ponder?
oh if love was love
when you had no song
listening to an oldies station
i realized he and i had no song
or not that, but that i never
APPLIED a song to that romance,
or any other

as if it was forbidden…
what is Love conquered by Lust?
it’s a beautiful day out, truly;
the flowers SHOULD be happy.

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can man in his evil thwart everlasting peace

:to stare into the eyes of the grim reaper
:to try to understand.

yet then, remember, “that’s right,
i died.”
–in unreasonable pain that all
left as quietly
as a feather finding its breeze.

to join the one,
joy overwhelmed–
no, took the place
of all worry.
it was like i understood all
and only the all mattered.

would be there, still,
if the baby had not cried;
my soul returned …. from where?

it isn’t a where,
it’s a when of all ages.

so this night i closed my eyes and slept,
remembering that
it’s not so much belief
in god or jesus or eternity,
as it is touching
creation and smiling

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follow what leader

“make yourself, don’t let others shape who you are.”
strictures purported as value
in media-driven culture

opposite is:
let others shape you into who you are

which is truth?
which is reality?
which is more noble

what is inclusion

and mostly does not the saying to not allow
others to shape,
negate its own action to shape others?

paradoxical paradise
yet paradox is elegant
this is crude

“don’t allow anyone to make you,
but let me make you”

a set-up for automatic trust…
an intricate trap
man yearns to trust

faith creates all things well

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