Who says, I am a celibate
or have no children of my own?
Each of the poems I have written
is either like a daughter or a son
and this quill you see in my hand
is my woman until death claims my life!
See that stretch of paper, that is our bed
where I make love to her and she
seems to be forever high on estrus
and her gestation is hardly
longer than a few hours at most
and a few days for one or two!
Unlike the male mammals and humans too,
we are together, toiling through
hand in hand from conception to the sprout!
Once born I post its picture on the cloud,
then the paper bed is turned to its cradle,
until age renders the same as its grave!
Well, even though the society
can be a slut or a playboy
(gender is not my focus here,
it could spring up from a shellfish
and still have the ears of a hare!),
at the end of the day we shall
leave our children to grow with it,
wrapped in it like the velvet fog
wraps a dark night in December.
(Or June if you are from the South!)
So, what options do we have but to right the wrongs,
not through violence, of course but with true love and care!
If you insist, it’s a lady or gentleman –
keep dreaming but once you wake up, reconsider!
I have had the pleasure
of receiving so many seeds
from individuals labeled as Woman
and willingly conceived
each to let it grow, be a child;
some I failed but others were born alright!
Well, pretty or hideous
I cannot tell, for they are my
children, that’s for their suitors to decide!
I love them all with all my heart like a mother!
Yes, I, a labeled Man, have borne in life
children from seeds delivered by the female minds!
So, do not think, gender roles can never be reversed,
unless humans too are like dogs in the heat of August!
*Based on recurring true events in my life.
Dear Members of the #Refugee_Convoy,
Greetings from the Humanoids! You have shown that there are still a few human beings alive in the world. May be not here but the world is bigger than a subcontinent. How can I be grateful enough for your consideration of the survival of my fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and children too! The world and humanity owes an immense debt to you. Wish a poor beast like me could help your grand cause!
You have my heart!
The readers may like to go through the following report to know the context of the poem…
How could you let them go away?
Don’t you have children of your own!
For money, how much did you say?
Just seven thousand dollars, wow!
Don’t hide behind your posts or uniforms,
that will not give you any relief from
my conscience and my soul! The verdict says,
you are guiltier than the charges being framed.
Still, the court shall give a reward, instead
and recognize your kind as members of
a species that has not been researched yet,
Homo Avaritia shall be its name!
Though humanoid in appearance you live
on crime and corruption entirely
and your staple food is bribe, squeezed from the weak
but your veins are thick with flattery for the strong.
Finally, the court must also admit, your kind
has the upper hand in here for quite a long time.