His black skin held tight The red blood that pumped life, Until she cut him. Her pale complexion Always hid the red blood, Until she was shamed. Her ancient ancestry Stayed in her red blood, Until the city stole her innocence. Kneeling in prayer Red blood sang through his body, Until hatred ended his life. Our naked desires Our blood red insides Our loves and fears The vessel matters not The souls are all alike. The heart pumps the same - Red blood.
Poetry is my aeroplane 
The heart and blood is what keeps us going. It’s life, and it’s emotion. City stealing innocence…that can be very true. We live and we learn, get up and try. Hope all is well with you, Andy. It’s a very wet few days in Melbourne 😐
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Thanks Mabel – we have had a couple of cooler days here – 26deg – hope it comes back soon 😊 I like to remind myself every now and then that we are all part f the one big picture and we all play a role – take one away and the whole this fails. Take it easy Mabel and keep your brolly handy 😉
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So true, Andy! The vessel matters not, the souls are all alike and get the nourishment from the same red blood! Such a profound revelation wonderfully penned… I wish all human beings on this planet could just understand this simple thing!
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Me too Mani! When I’m king of the world I’ll be writing this on every wall so that nobody can forget it 😊👍
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I want you to become the king in the soonest possible time… 😀
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I’ll try hard 😊🙏
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This is really profound and just has to be shared. Which I will do next. First: wish you a wonderful and relaxed weekend. XxX
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Thank you Patty – I’m glad t struck a chord wth you. 🙏😊. Wishing you a safe and happy Easter.
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