A Brutal Paradox

Some men are like seasonal fruits…available
For once in the lifetime of a woman, and expensive too!
You don’t buy them in kilos! You pluck them! You wash them
To adorn your dining tables during the day and when the sun
Sets in the western skies you slice them into shapeless lumps,
Making them small and edible!


You might ask me, “who then has the upper hand in this
Passionate turbulence?” “Undoubtedly, the man!” I say.
Oh, don’t blow your feminist trumpet yet, just hear me out.
Answer me fellow women, isn’t it a submissive dominance
To make a pigmy of your body to his hardened flesh and blood,
And is not it a man’s loss when a woman feigns; punishing


Him when he fails to please! For centuries now, our bodies
Have been sullied with pecker tales of all kinds…but now
Let it give on till it can give no more, for we know what makes
A man, a man after all! And therefore, thrive for men more
Excellent than yourselves…pluck them when they’re ripe,
And let them rot with wild ambitions on your virginal beds!


Strip down to your soul and let him see your naked form;
Intimidate; and then allow him to sink into you; let him
Crush your womb and empty it of every drop of blood;
Make him toil, toil and toil. In the end, dear men and
Women, both realize the brutal paradox of sex;
Both get crushed to be elated!


Now Playing:: Daiyya yeh main kahan...........Asha