Walkin on Air

Shall We Kiss

The thing is this:
when is a kiss not a kiss?
With lust and shame undertaken,
like Harlequin's Tivoli in Copenhagen
beset with self and vapid pride,
tawdry tang is left in our mouth,
Cupid becomes stupid and goes south:
nothing in the least remains what I'd
term love!

In our universe parallels be drawn:
altogether alien gods and demons,
impenitent sinners and aberrant jesters
since rebellious creation had its dawn:
Satan and his fallen devilish stepsons,
deep in Democracy's unfeeling heart festers
Sophoclean common ground they all share;
they yearn to be loved and worshipped,
but cannot love!


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Shall We Kiss

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