Unadulterated Poems - Poems about Unadulterated

What do we get from battles and war, Nothing, a no-win score Causing war is a sin, Not to be entered in, Pain and suffering felt by all Soldiers' backs against a wall Where evil and corruption thrive Struggling to stay alive It was not in their life plan To shoot or maim their fellow man All aspects of life are lost At an unaccountable cost. All...

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living from the heart without being diluted ~ ...

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Holy Father, Mother Earth, Father and Mother To all from Birth. A sister cannot be a brother, Likewise, a brother cannot be a mother. There is nobody that can change, Dispute it or rearrange These words of truth....

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The first time feels funny The second alright After that, pure honey ~ Serpent takes his bite...

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Yes , got the writing bug back Can do this in spades all day and night Without even taking a break None of which makes any sense Barely less worth reading or writing down But matter's not as on and on and on I go Though I yes should most probably and definitely stop But then again I am off the clock this...

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Unadulterated emotional anguish linkedin... Regarding inconsolable screaming infant christened Matthew Scott Harris woke eureka insight about said newborn self, experiences ultra sensitivity courtesy loud noises and/or sleep disruption. I purportedly cried mine trademark noisy hullabaloo no matter pallor turned fifty plus shades of blue nonstop nary a clue lovely writhing baby bones pitiful sight Matthew eventually, invariably, and ostensibly slumped into fatigue he brew utter exhaustion and drew round the clock...

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Unadulterated History. In 1931, a white woman accused five Hawaiian men of rape. They were acquitted. The woman's mother showed up and demanded retribution for her family's "good" name. A group of white men grabbed one of the acquitted men and tried to beat a confession out of him. When that didn't work, they grabbed another...

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Her hair, her beautiful blonde curls, Her hair drapes to her butterfly shoulders. And I stand beside her, a quiver, As my love, my lion hearted love, smoulders. Her lines, her wine glass curves, intoxicate, Get me drunk with anticipation. Waiting for her wave to break, And surf our love in synchronization. Then the real opera, the perform and show,...

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My eyes sometimes see things new, Yet most images fly same as yesterday. Even birds, though their tunes do change; At least I'd like to believe they do. Still I wonder as my feet touch floor, This is a miracle once again realized. What right does one have to mortal privileges?, When angels such as Rebecca have already flown. Then I think of...

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