They asked me if I'd ever been with someone.
I told them,
I have been with a girl.
I talked to her until the moon turned to sun,
and an absence of childhood stories
became our own tale of normalcy being absent from our lives.
Childhood dreams not yet realized,
because heterosexuality was not realized in them.
Stop pretending
your racism is patriotism
Stop pretending
your sexism is natural
Stop pretending
your homophobia
is healthy heterosexuality
Stop pretending
your evangelical orthodoxy
isn't xenophobia
Stop pretending
your traumatic patriarchalism
doesn't justify
and sanctify
therapeutic womanism
Stop pretending
your monotheism
isn't,
once the veil of dualism is lifted,
predative anthro-supremacism.
Try remembering
that silent gifts,
like grace,
and redemption from hypocrisy,
are a lifetime healthcare process,
co-redemptive journey,
dance into integrity
compassion
pleasure
curiosity.
The earths just one big trash can
Gets pushed up into a mountain
The oil spills, the whacked out pills
Look how we're surrounded
Land of decree, home of decay
Stopping tomorrow to deal with today
Mixed up messages mixed up minds
All of these questions, all of the time
Going to bury my head in the sand
Going to run as fast as i can
Not going to follow the plan
The plan it is a scam
Not going to work
Just want your brain to hurt
Just want your heart to squirt
It's a drop dead reality
Stuck in this cavity
Surrounded by catastrophe
Acting diplomatically
Making the brutality the reality
Glorifying fatality
Pull our minds out of the gutter
There is still more to discover
We will stand tougher
Smother the sucker
Let us restructure
The strategy practically destroyed the galaxy
Demoting our nationality, we won't live unhappily
Improve our mentality, principality, constitutionality, heterosexuality, and confidentiality
Actively attracted me to your mind
Maddened me
Saddened me
Made me blind
Were you ready for a virginity test
to cross the umbrella of harpoons.
A chilled moon
will welcome you after slaying
the hot sun in the valley
of gods. A schism scoops
ignominy. Seeing the lights
which were not there. Almost
sexy, the sky pretends to unrobe.
No weeping. A Caucasian brings
red grapes for a naming
ceremony of black password,
searing the age of complicity.
A rocket propelled grenade
is going to blast a whisper.
Satish Verma
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