This is our journey. And our love, will sail us through.

Saturday, January 01, 2011

Because you called me a shemale.

You fell in love with a shemale. A transsexual. A transwoman..
A different kind of a woman...
Whichever tag you feel like eating, you can because I really don’t care about them
But basically you felt up a queer body and it always ignited something in your “normal” head.
The flames of this madness were often turpentine red
Maybe like countless red heads
Bobbing down a canvas and slewing into a watery tray...
Like some Ginsberg’s stanza
Given another electric shot of marijuana and there we will be, in some supernatural high
Forgetting what the logical fucked up world had to say and you would hold me in blind affection..
Our lips so close that they could twirl into comas of perfection,
Your waist rubbed against mine
In oblivious greed for love. Love love and maybe lust...
Maybe you did like the fact that I could greet you with breasts and everything a woman
Offered apart from a cunt and you could caress my body just the way you want to
And walk away without feeling like a womanizer..
I am a free ticketed ride to little cheap thrills.
You secretly relish the peepshow of boobs and that is why, no matter how much you claim..
You try touching them delicately and maybe in your head you use cheap clich├ęs for me like
“They are like newly formed grapes. So hormones really work huh?”.


But it all used to matter so much to me, at one point of time..
I used to look at you and wonder how much of Old Monk would satiate your thirst in me
And I would glug it like a delirious child. I drank more of it..
Wondering it is your skin and my body
Both evading into some other world and when I wake up it would be a different morning..
It would be you and me on some treacherous forest trek with sea roaring behind our backs
But I don’t feel scared at all
Because I am aware that you are with me like Shiva is always with Parvati...
And there is no other woman in your heart but me.
I am your woman, you embraced it..
So I would finally feel the summer sun in your arm’s moist cradle and fragrant body hair
With trinkets of sexy sweat.
But the realities toss differently as compared to my head
And this wintery night is like some
Asylum’s siren. There are memories of you shrieking.
Pale sucked alphabets trance-ing over white sheets. Shrieking.
There are your faces scattered like a Rorsach.
All shrieking.
There are catatonic verses and sign boards of something dreary called the TRUTH.
How much have I hated you and your factual brigade, your piles of biological order
And that subtle way of shooting me down.
Erasing me easily from your daily life.
But all of this tends to die down, dissolve a little with moon’s pallor
And some sultry song that
Plays in a distant house or the chiming of temple bells at night.
Or maybe just the monochromatic scratching of my friend’s pen ...
And jangle of newly bought bangles and tick-tack of a hilarious bronze I NEED YOU lighters..
Even though people would usually turn to me and ask about confusions
But my man..
I think it is you, who people need to advise and not me.
It maybe you who needs to be warned by
Family for a psychiatric trip and not me...
It is just unfair
The advantages you all straight individuals and not just men, take.
I know my body well. It is proudly queer and leave it alone at that.

3 comments:

  1. This is proof that There is order in completely random and strange thoughts. Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  2. hi
    i find ur language very very seductive, and therapeutic in very pacifying way. i really love reading u!

    ok, mainly to say u must grab a copy of this film. i am hoping it reflects ur passion for life:

    http://calcuttatube.com/aar-ekti-premer-golpo-2010-bengali-film-review-115/24645/

    c u.

    ReplyDelete