Webs of anguish
Shackles of sorrow
Chains of darkness
Boxes of horror
Haunt his happiness
He is a crucified difference
Bleeds within the closets of his soul
Where the harshness of humanity
Buries him within the coffins of its condemnation
Squirming squared in
A cornered difference
Lives by stealth:
He wears marriage like a cloak
Rolls in the mud of deceit
And chokes on the vomit of his pain
That boxes him within the closets of his life
Ringed around
Noosed by
Religion-randy rats
Who morsel-mad with his flesh
Breed-feed yet other flamen fools
Who suck their morality
From the blood of his pain
Now dark with the anguish of his soul
Still he is
Man-human-woman-person
Power-bursting through the egg shells
Of his fledglin freedom
Whose flambeau
Must stare-glare at the darkness
Of the closets terrified of truth-light.
Reason for writing:
I wrote the poem three years ago after a friend of mine was murdered in his house. He died a horrific death as he was strangled with a piece of wire and pieces of cloth were stuffed in his mouth and nose. He was gay. What hurt most was that the fact of his being gay somewhat made people to excuse the murder- a sort of "his life style led to this" talk making the rounds. I guess I am submiting the poem as I see the kind of intolerance that seems to manifest itself in different ways in my country.
Birth sign: Pisces
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