Who stole the knocks, at his door?
Outrage of his, passion’s flare!
Who rioted, his restless core?
His soul, laden with despair!
What man is to man, beyond a friend?
Which dimension, desire’s final nest?
What civilizations, forbid and pretend?
How hopeless is, that man’s protest?
Who loves man, for a purpose profound?
Who bathes in fire, hurled at his being?
Consoles his soul, with a manhood frowned!
A bond, he meekly flaunts, to mankind disagreeing
Is distorted his choice? Society’s cocksure!
Have you heard that voice, from his soul?
“It ain’t disease, so why we cure!”
Why they bear, downcast machismo’s toll?
Are their kins any fair, to their “sinful” affair?
“This can’t just be true, O Lord! Why this befell you?
Your perversion’s burden, why shall we bear?”
How estranged and broken, a brother, a son, a truth laid bare!
Whose creed they got, Oh! Why they forgot?
That “love” means a man, and woman making love
And not what they thought? A man with man, an immoral knot!
Rendered outcasts, outlaws, with taxing lives, to shove
What’s faith’s sentence? Oh! That holy pretense?
How it helps to measure, sinning men’s offence?
“They squandered their birth, at creed’s expense
May these beasts, with no worth, die in hell! No use, penance!”
Regimes have a muted, political tale, to narrate
“We neither consent nor condemn, your “petty flaw”
Yet, still, your best bet us, for your godforsaken fate!”
Disowned, stateless men of awe, on the wrong side of law
Did God bestow them naïvely, a fondness amiss?
An absolute passion, did he impose, on some, cherry-picked souls?
If He defined, then who refined, the sense of, formless bliss?
“Oh Lord forgive! We ain’t blind, we don’t beg for love, on doles”
That quest is best addressed by them, the “sinners” of our time
“We ain’t exotic birds in cage, don’t be awed by us, now and then!
Our passion, rainbow’s eighth shade, unheard note of life’s chime
We sense and live this gift God-made, time and again
A love beyond rituals’ charade, is the one, when men love men”
© 2015 Vikas Chandra