With one-night wives, those twilight trysts
To sedate, squirming nerves, under the skin
Beyond all, moral myths, one truth persists
No virtue’s, worth, this sublime sin!
‘Love’ bared, o’er, trampled petticoat
With dry menses, and, stale semen
Like Sin’s Bible, with the, same anecdote
Moan out, aching souls, every now and then!
Few drops, squirt out, from gnawed nipples
Of milk, for which, wailed, a bastard’s child
To sleep, unsuckled, amidst giggles
As his, mother drowned, in her, orgy wild!
It ended where, it all began
Conquest of lust, in ‘love’s’ endgame
Redeemed of sin, walked out, that man
Who sold, his faith, In The Shrine Of Shame!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra