deepundergroundpoetry.com

Gay Pride

 We are not idiots,
If we mean we are odds,
With our top buttons closed,
Not for our neck-ties.
We kiss each other,
And we hug each other,
And we fuck each other.
But we are-
Campy lampoons,
Of human existence,
Born sick,
In our sub-consciousness,
Like a dead child,
Wishing for day-light,
Trapped inside,
A biology machine,
Called womb. 

Why then we march for?
Unlike justice & sympathy,
To those ill fated cowards,
Dressed in black,
Holding candles straight
And engaged in forums,
To vote for, to fight for,
And to satisfy their ego,
Because they did nothing,
For their dear ones killed,
When they were sleeping,
Like a baby unaware-
That the parents are playing.
We are not idiots,
If we mean we are odds,
With our top buttons closed,
Not for our neck-ties. 



This one is a poem that finally talks about serious issues. After talking and writing about love for sometime, I have again focused my attention to the seriousness of this diversity which just not needs attention but requires a casual and ordinary status in the society. It was difficult for me getting into the skin of a gay character that gets tense and talks in anguish. So I have used a different language that suits the character and have not fixed it as a male or female protagonist. It is a poem of all genders that truly deserves to be assertive in its explanation of the problem,
Written by anandosen
Published
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