Popcorn on the floor,
Mixing with the acid in the drink.
Handprints, oil and blood from blinks
Running through the cracks on the door.
Holes in the membrane of the speakers,
Shouting and crying: “where will this lead us?”
The curtains, wrapped around your head,
Take your brain and punch where it last bled.
A thousand spikes arise from the chairs,
Penetrate the hearts of those who dare.
A stream of purple blood and American napalm
Flows on the stage and sets itself for a show.
The stream stands so proud on its needle-like legs,
But its heart starts pounding, prevails unrest.
A story of a man and a man, the human form of love,
“A place in heaven, my lord” they both, nakedly, beg.
The next few verses will cover what they both said,
Their veins are purple, as is the blood; but heart, dead.
Slam the wooden doors, smash the walls,
Stretch your blood-teary eyes, listen to who they call.
“They ask me what it takes to be gay:
Does it have to be a pink shirt for men
Or how about a “queer” haircut for women.
I said nothing but society had something else to say.
Society? Oh, it’s you and I and many others like us,
It comprises of the noble and then those who travel by bus.
But when it looks at you, it brings you down and questions
Your ability to fit in or should it strip you of your emotions.
I carry no flaw or imperfection, neither is this a phase;
A penis still hangs down here so let me make my case
Because there aren’t many dark rooms or dry pillows left
For us to weep in, confine in or wet.
Should LGBT really be a community?
Why is it not society acting in unity?
This discrimination has now been going on for centuries.
Don’t expect us to let it be and give it immunity.
You say it’s against God and a book written 3500 years ago,
But if God doesn’t support his children then why did he make rainbows?
And why are we paraphrasing books written so long back?
Even though they choose the rainbow over your ignorant black.
You call them different and yourselves heteros;
But the words mean the same and society doesn’t know.
I am put on a stand here, in nature’s court to deliberate;
And thus, I ask you, your honour: Does this jacket make me look too straight?”
Too many pathetic human words or slaughtered sense?
Come here, I’ll blindfold you with a pair of red lens.
Your blindness to it, or ignorance to pain;
A twisted knife in your gut makes you insane.
Curtains, died in blood, close the view,
The one you made between the stream and you.
Though watching, they’re never really open,
Stretch them from either end until they are truly awakened.
~Tanishq Khurana, DPS RK Puram
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