By whichever name
That soothes your fancy
This Noun or Verb
This Act or Art
Is fired always by unbridled passion
Abacus stint is only a temporary impediment
All that is required is the capability of in-built ability
It is a tactile vehicle for expressing emotions
A mutual feeling they often claim it is
This mood is only abominable when consent is absent
It is a catalyst to the being of all souls
This mood is natural and sometimes beyond discretion
I have a grudge against a duo
That needs no introduction
Cause I am sure you know them too well
My grudge though weird is legit
The duo continue to pay lip service
To my natural right to make a CHOICE
In deviance to their profane claim of
Equity for all breathing souls
The mood I speak of though a tripartite contract
They treat me as voiceless among the gambling trio
And claim I am a sub-set that owes its being
To a mutual and quasi-feudal Set
Gladly they revel in deciding my fate
And claim it is a divine mandate
I am barred from making choices about my
Pigmentation, sex, faith, class, race, physique etc
Remedy for the injustice I loathe will forever remain elusive
All homo-sapiens are victims of this vicious circle
Most have no regret over this rape of consent
But a vast majority clamour to have a say
Permit me to ask
Is Destiny a justification for this malady?
Did I hear you say mere mortals cannot?
Fully comprehend the mysteries inherent in destiny
Though I sound like a lone voice
My grudge against humanity will never cease
Until my libertarian soul is appeased
And my consensual being is reckoned with
All I Demand, Yearn, Crave and Clamour for
Is that my consent should be sought
The next time this
Act or Art is contemplated by the Duo
N.B.
This poem is a critical and somewhat philosophical reflection on how all men have become victims of a natural circle that makes a defining and sometimes predictable statement about our future and the heights we can attain.
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