Unaltered Poems | Examples

On the edge of a world unfolding like a softly whispered dream

On the edge of a world unfolding like a softly whispered dream,
half inside, half outside, its center remains unshaken.
This is the woman who knows the depths of her being,
emerging from within like a flame that knows no cold.
She carries her soul like a sacred, untouched temple,
protecting her essence from shadows trying to dance around her.
She finds her strength within, like a root piercing the earth,
she knows she will triumph, that in life's battle she will always have the drive.
When she looks at the sea with its waves in crescendo,
she knows she can face the storm, turning her face towards the sun,
seeking happiness in the rising light, in the life that surrounds her.
She distances herself from the darkness, from sunsets that bring only coolness.
She wishes to bathe only in pure light,
keeping shadows and demons at bay.
She guards her essence, keeping her peace like armor,
fleeing from all that is evil, in search of the celestial smile.
Half inside, half outside, but always centered,
she knows the truth about herself, her path unaltered.

Alternate Universe

The women sing songs to the moon,  
Praising its beauty.  
They dance and sing when it’s in its full glow,  
Their souls ascending and descending,  
Transformed into priestesses.  

The men venture into the forest at twilight every fortnight.  
There, an unveiling and a revealing take place.  
The spirits commune with them in the tranquil ambience,  
Warning them about any impending danger,  
Sharing mysteries that are soon to enter their territory.  
The men become gifted watchmen.  

Something astonishing happens with the sun.  
At midday, it beams its rays on a vast meadow,  
Where the plants are exuberantly green.  
These are called the Blessed Bloom,  
An elixir of vitality and rejuvenation.  

The atmosphere is clean and fresh.  
There is no conflict between humans and machines,  
No exploitation of nature,  
No encroaching on her space.  
The leash has not taken the lead.  

I asked to know where I am,  
And I met a stranger who looked familiar.  
He said I’m in an unsoiled place,  
An unaltered place,  
An alternate universe.


April 8, 2025.

The Great Man is like an ice mountain, cold and unwavering, fearless of opinion

The Great Man is like an ice mountain, cold and unwavering, fearless of opinion,
Devoid of virtues that accompany the respect and respectability of the herd,
If he cannot lead, he walks alone on the rough paths of his destiny,
Knowing he is ineffable, he tastes the bitterness of unshared intimacy.
When not speaking to himself, he wears an impenetrable and mysterious mask,
Within him exists an inaccessible solitude, untouched by praise or criticism,
In this silence, he finds the strength to never hesitate,
And in this isolation, he discovers his pure and unaltered essence.
Like a solitary stag in the forest of thoughts, he follows his path,
Without seeking familiarity, he finds the bitter taste of truth,
He is a soul dancing on the edge of a misunderstood world,
Where the echoes of the herd cannot penetrate his depths.
The Great Man is like a star in the infinite night, shining far away,
Misunderstood by the crowd, but blinding in his own unique light,
In this distance, he discovers the freedom to truly be himself,
And in this vast and silent space, he finds his eternity.

Paradigm Of Reality

For the inducement of the compulsive being 
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness,
the personified indebted identity
changes appearance in self-designed colour melange,
while the conjured chameleon furtively cocooned,
paints the shifting facade of deception,
as the languid life chases the transient mirage.

Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors 
on the visage of made-up memory fade away,
the pallid psyche morphs mystically into
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality,
reflecting the filtered rendering of primal hues' motif
of unaltered distinctive disposition it embodied once.

The lattice of contrived perception
designs the improvised fabric of truth.
The metamorphic mind creates the deluding elements,
resonating the echo of resounding insight,
filtered by its own transformed innate screen,
completes the paradigm shift of illusive reality.

Saturn the great malefic

A world so far yet so close
A sea of sand that shall always slide trough your hands
With the grip of a new born you learned to let go
Things are unchanged and unaltered 
Your ancestors pain is yours 
Their love, their dreams is your existence 
And just like you they learned to let go
The light that reached the corner of their eyes
The light that showed them everything they needed to see
Is the light that shall bathe you and purify you
I wish to see myself again and again
And make the hardest of choices.

Unaltered

Unaltered 
One’s true self
Altered in Faith
To be your best
Emotions… memories
Unaltered, without peace
Altered in Faith
Emotions and memories
Are boxed and put away
Unaltered 
Will return another day
Keep the Faith

Copyright January 2024

Who Are We at Our Core

We look for that that does not come and go,  
It cannot be organic form, subject to decay.  
Thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know,  
Yet come what may, our inner child continues to play.

In the quiet of our minds, where secrets softly whisper,  
Echoes of our truest selves, hidden deep within.  
Like a constant, gentle river, pure and clearer,  
Reflecting the essence that lies beneath our skin.

Amidst the chaos of the world, ever-changing, ever-new,  
Our core remains steadfast, a beacon in the night.  
An unchanging truth, authentic and true,  
Guiding us forth, through darkness to light.

In the mirror of the soul, beyond the physical sight,  
Lies the unaltered spirit, untouched by time's flight.  
Here in this sanctuary, where our fears take flight,  
We discover who we are, in the stillness of the night.

Who are we at our core, if not an eternal flame?  
Burning bright with hope, love, and dreams untamed.  
In this journey of self, no two paths are the same,  
Yet in every heart, the core's light remains unclaimed.

Never Bent Rimas Dissolutas

Your version of sober is not mine,
I do not blame you I blame culture;
Wasted words you will not remember,
probably better to stay silent;

For me an unaltered state is fine,
that’s not for everyone I am sure;
I’d rather not end up hung over 
I would like to talk about time spent;

You are claiming clean on that bender,
my definition was never bent.

Gimmie

Peter’s off again to job interview (second round, in Geneva), he was only here two days but something of him remained behind. Oh, fingerprints for sure - but memories too - like scattered Christmas wrappings - or a poem:

Ok, gimme me your best day, take your best shot at perfection.

Our minds take experiences and press them grape-like,
into the intoxicating liquor of memory.

The vivid ones linger - unaltered - like youthful Internet mistakes forever posted.

Someday to beckon us back, teasingly - like bright, neon signage.

To Engineer Is Human

We live in a world
Brim full of uncertainty
Yet some things are set
Unaltered by humanity. 

Science has laws 
Which we did not make
Instead we defined them
And make no mistake

We may have rules
And constants and such
But science is in charge
And we own it so much. 

But as we developed
And grew year on year
We became sophisticated 
Learnt to engineer. 

Harnessing science 
To do what we need
Mass growth industry 
Enabled us to breed 

Rapid development
Coming out of the gloom
Engineering meets science
The industrial boom!

To Engineer Is Human

We live in a world
Brim full of uncertainty
Yet some things are set
Unaltered by humanity. 

Science has laws 
Which we did not make
Instead we defined them
And make no mistake

We may have rules
And constants and such
But science is in charge
And we own it so much. 

But as we developed
And grew year on year
We became sophisticated 
Learnt to engineer. 

Harnessing science 
To do what we need
Mass growth industry 
Enabled us to breed 

Rapid development
Coming out of the gloom
Engineering meets science
The industrial boom!

Long Lost Love

If only I could feel
Your magic touch
That I've longed for 
For an eternity it seems
Feel the love
Pure and unaltered
By time by distance
A lasting forever love
That has taken over
My very heart and soul
My whole being
Oh how I wish
This fervent wish
Could somehow be real
Suddenly
You are here beside me
We touch, we cry
We lose ourselves in love
Totally oblivious
Totally enraptured
This feeling has taken
Over every part of me
Why have I been blessed
Why do I question it
You have returned to me
My dearest, my sweetest
My whole world suddenly
Is bright again
With much more meaning
I am overwhelmed
You are my love of loves
I'm your “Sweet Man”

My Long Lost Love

If only I could feel
Your magic touch
That I've longed for 
For an eternity it seems
Feel the love
Pure and unaltered
By time by distance
A lasting forever love
That has taken over
My very heart and soul
My whole being
Oh how I long for
This fervent wish
Could somehow be real
Suddenly
You are here beside me
We touch, we cry
We lose ourselves in love
Totally oblivious
Totally enraptured
This feeling has taken
Over every part of me
Why have I been blessed
Why do I question it
You have returned to me
My dearest, my sweetest
My whole world suddenly
Is bright again
With much more meaning
I am overwhelmed
You are my love of loves
I'm your “Sweet Man”

Shape Shift

For the maneuvered inducement of compulsive being,
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness, 
the personified indented identity,
changes in the self-devised palette of color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon furtively cocooned
paints the shifting façade of deceptiion.

In the ostensible enactment of life’s amazing drama, 
performance perfected in one-act play, 
and with the obsession of passion ostensible,
gilding the consequence crafted by metamorphic alchemy,
the surreptitious shift from one actor to another, 
is an axiomatic designed drive. 

Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors fade  
on the visage of the virtual makeup,
the pallid original face morphs mystically into 
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality, 
reflecting the real rendering of shape rinsed with primal hue
of the unaltered distinctive disposition it embodied once.

The spasm of contrived perception splits the mirror, 
the shapeless shards of shattered pretence 
scatter as discarded debris abandoned. 
Metamorphosis creates the deluding creature, 
an alien in its own transformed domain,
completes the contrasting paradigm of illusive shape shift.

Loose Lips

Always be careful to speak unaltered truth
For lies will often return to haunt the soul
An important lesson learned in our youth,
Little attention to truth does take its toll.
Besides, to lie is considered most uncouth
Destroying credibility, truth be told,
Causing a painful strain on relationships
Especially when we tend to have loose lips.

Written September 21, 2022

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