Is he a boy or a girl.
A half woman, not man enough.
She is faking it, he is not for real
They is not themselves.
Watching sunrise from my terrace top, I slowly sip tea from a cup.
Treason, rape, murder and theft
And how many more, shall I make you count?
How many you say
Must there be my kind?
Some must be east facing, some west
Some under some and some on top.
This rapist and that molester
This corrupt politician, that suppressive leader.
Between Borivili to Churchgate
How many men and how many stains ?
ROL was an effort to liberate, to emancipate, to earn a little glory and a gentle nudging process for a few that thought that “Queer-ism” is all about sex.
And Mr.Khan was dancing there.
The way he delivered,
That glint in the eye,
That curling of the lip...
It must have been a gay mosquito.
You know that one with the showy hinds,
Stripped and patterned?
For when we played doctor,
All diseases big and small,
Cured by nudging and tugging on our privates
Ah! Simplicity of that time and age.
Bright & bubbly, like how you see all girls
For I always seemed like that as well
It must have poisoned my lunch everyday
For after that I have been gay
Today I am an item of undesired and wrong prejudices. Some tell what is right for me and some tell me what is wrong.
I'm gay. I'm quite sure of it and I'm quite gay about it. Men and their crotches are fascinating. Why wouldn't they be ?
I tried a lot to get myself to talk to you in person but I failed in courage and guts. I’m 25 and I feel I’m living a lie.
Rahul remembered the exact second they started. Not always did he keep a count (to pick up the best one on an anniversary or a birthday to excite and at its worst, as weapons for the arguments and fights).
In sessions of adult amusements and private passions.
In a never before musical,
Dancing in patterns to unknown moves.
And what are you looking at mister ?
You can have what you see,
I just want something in return now.
Must I tell you this is no wonderland of Alice. It's a grown up and a more selfish place.
Lets play a song.
A song of senses-
Eyes and skin and touch and smell.
And your panting, I can so clearly hear.
The ebb and the flow …
The streets are swarming
with men of the muck,
and their hideous fashions.
Sometime brightly colored tapered trousers
Discolored undergarments like family