A Queer Challenge

A Queer Challenge

World wanted
to know, how I am.
I say, ask my poems.

Let's run through the skin
of new heists I was
fighting my own demons.
Racial silhouette
against the backdrop of moonscape
was becoming visible.

You stand in queue
to get the food for thought and home for homeless,
trying to use my poems as activism.

Inviting new-fascists to come
and walk death houses.

Stuck in a cleft stick today,
you search yourself intensely.

Where was my nightingale
in this jungle of raw wounds?

Reviews

[John Cardwell]

There is a different pain and intensity in this piece. More concrete, less image. I hope the best for you. Thank you for sharing your beautiful poetry Satish.