Had I, not been hailed, as the ‘Greatest Soul’
Would I, still brave, penile estrangement
My seminal sin, hadn’t, taken its toll
On those, who bore, my sacrament!
Why slam me? Blame, my libido!
Which bewitched me, whilst my, father died
A husband, discharged his, orgasmic vow
Dare cynics, ever indict, “Mahatma lied”!
Who sentenced me, to, contrived chastity
A man, obsessed with, his life’s orgies
That ‘Mahatma’, sinned my, sexuality
Who coerced me, to sleep, with my, naked grand-niece!
They yearned, to be pawns, of my morality
Why else, they slept, and bathed, with me
Who resent, my experiment, with dubiety
Can’t measure, a Mahatma, beyond banality!
Don’t despise me, for what, I did, to them
Who chose, to be, my cherished whores
Mere fodders, to a, Mahatma’s mayhem
Who took on whites, with a, million wars!
I passed, in it, or, did I fail!
Between sex, and soul, my sole conquest
Many times, sin spilled, from my, Holy Grail
In my forbearance, faith and, fear’s quest!
I Mahatma, lost, the best, I could
In my, rites of, sexual heresy
For statehood, I martyred, my manhood
In My, Sex-periments, With Celibacy!
© 2020 Vikas Chandra