“How would, I know, am I, well-endowed”
Nor, she knew, who saw, none, but me
Then, the Angels, of, Sin-Street, avowed
“David carries, with him, Goliath of Spree!”

What, made me, my manhood’s, enigma
Vainglory, of, little-known, megalith
Or the fear, of my, machismo’s stigma –
“Worst Sinner, makes the, Best Lovesmith!”

I’ve squelched, in, seminal sin, every day
Since, an epic, prejudice, deified, my pride
I squirm, with the mermaids, of melee
Mourning, lovelorn hearts, crucified!

When, an orgy ends, new one, sprouts out
In, my sin’s farm, seed of, my moral malice
Rent sacrament, of a, spent juggernaut
The Mega Myth, Of My, Prized Penis!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra