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Parephila

Man by nature is a sadist.
He inflicts pain
Upon woman in bed.
He must nib, pinch and bite
Sensual parts of woman
To prepare her to orgasm.
Pain is pleasure in sex.
When it exceeds tolerance
It turn to parephila.
14.09.2006

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Chose sweet fruits

Is he black in colour?
You can refer to him as a Koel,
not as a crow.
Is she fat in her contour?
You can refer to her as a bear,
not as a pig.
Is one dull in behaviour?
You can refer to one as a cow,
not as an ass.
The sadist only does otherwise.
20.05.2001 Pindi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Soap Opera

Do the Devil
And God switch
Roles in becoming
The writer, creator
Director of our roles?

If not,
What pleasure
Does God get
In making us
Enact the roles
Of a Rapist,
Murderer,
Paedophile
In this life's
Soap Opera?

Is HE a sadist
Relishing the agony
Of helpless victims

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poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Who am I?

I am an atheist.
Neither reverence for, nor abhorrence of God.
I am a lecher.
No molestation, yet very much seduction.
I am a sadist.
With persisting scars and insisting revenges.
I am an introvert.
For ore privacy and a little publicity
I am a sensualist.
Woman in any form, even a stone, excites.
I am an intellect.
More reasoning than adhering.
Lust is the root of these attributes.
It is, already, sixty years old.
30.11.2000, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Hiding Behind So Many Names

why does someone
hide in so many names?
if there were only many faces
i am sure that someone
shall buy those faces
and day by day s/he walks
in the malls
and confuse people about
who she is

she may show a smile today
a frown tomorrow
anger today and
gentleness on another day
she me take the face of the clown
or that of a masochist
the sadist
she may buy the face of God
and for a time
for excitement's sake wear

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Infantile shortfalls

Licking the boot, humble to serve,
Or indulging in art and sex!
Strokes, one had not enough.

Ardent smoking, constant munching,
Or intense for kissing!
Suckling, one had not enough.

Obstinate in craving, persistent in grabbing,
Or in all sort of bootlegging!
Anus grip, one had not enough.

A tyrant in action, obtrusive in manner,
Or a Joker or a Sadist!
Penetration, one had not enough.

As an adult one manifests
Himself in various substitutes
To quench one’s infantile thirsts.
20.07.97

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mad man, once a mother's love.

In a dirty string-like cloth, bottom and chest bare
A body in patches, and dried wounds show
In supplication, hands held out ghostly, for food or dime
Not food not a dime, but sadist's stone,
His stomach rumbles, he rummages his bundle of rags
A rotten banana peel, his lunch it makes
Moons counted, a mother, like any other
Got a sweet product of her womb, kissed like other
She had loved him, yes, a bundle of joy he was.
Powers, the times, the earth it would be drenched, her tears,
Sight of her son, her soul sinks.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Deep down...

Drowned deep in the bluest ocean
Can't breathe ah find nothing to hold on
Darkest feelings here with no expression
Bloody moon ah plays with the sadist sun

I know nothing here to wait for lady in the oldest house to dig on dirty eyes in shadow or the eclipse laughs mourns the air and all I hear with no witness to lessen the burden to take a share ah bluest ocean

Deep in your lips
Down in your hips

Lost I am lost am I
Don't laugh I don't dare to cry
Don't move lady don't fly

I know nothing here
Lady nothing to show

But dreaming in your eyes
Ah

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poem by Misbah Uddin
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Alankar (Decor) -12

What Sort Is He, Bitter Or Sweet....

What sort is He, bitter or sweet to say
Pastime painter black and white, dark and bright
Alltime sadist by nature He His play
Pain or pleasure He seems be His pretext..

Ruing so dark a woman black she hued
Blighted a leaf as withers she shrivels
This day even ahead on stairs cultured
Accursed, a bad society she feels

And look, laughing pride yet another one
Glowing outside fair with conceit inside
This day that all wish for union one
Dispairs her fair skin dark on rungs down slide

Writhing in mind a worm hunting His sort
In vain blaming, praising, admits His sport

poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Bird Sanctuary (Vedanthangal-TamilNadu, India)

The calls of birds
Of hues varied
lull all to sleep.
Vedanthangal(Shelter of the Hunters) ,
the rain fed tank,
is the haven for
Cormorants,
the Night Herons,
the Darters, Ducks
Grey Pelicans
and the Moor Hens….

Birds from continents diverse
nest on the Kadamba Trees,
feed, breed and fly around,
dip in water, catch fish
and hop to the trees in glee.

O, that sadist hurls a fish above
and takes it back within its bills!

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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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