The Will To SurviveA Poem by Satish VermaLittle birds had become stone pelters.
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. © 2020 Satish Verma |
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