Little birds
had become stone pelters.
Uneasy would lie the hands, that
had become avid pawns.
Sometimes you watch
the erotica, mating in air,
to listen to echoes
of self-destruction.
The stigma will not go.
Human judgment was
falling. You grab a Rilke
to find the answer.
If man was truth then
what was a beast?
don't commit the eye of god.
Every honour was fake.
The gay philosophy was
for yourself. I had been living
perilously, not hiding
behind the rituals.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: December 20th, 2019 21:51
- Category: Nature
- Views: 10
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.