It is not some chicken

that rests on those breasts

they feed your next generation

pluck them out and you’ll see death

all around, you do think to pluck those

every night in a small corner of your bed

you might be a father, brother, husband or

just some man who is desperate to drive fast!


The bra your own make

to cage those breasts have

been thrown away, the moment

is to get her obeying, to be quiet until

the scene gets a climax, you think of them

by seeing the strap from a ten feet distance

in a bus, or some place where everyone’s blind

you explain its color and size to spread it like religion!


Those thighs you touch

by a mere push of your waist

have been seen to be of a sapling,

that blindfolded head thinks obnoxious

but yells loud to defend the touch by shame,

“the girl is a slut, her dress is short, she is too free

the skin calls, her goggles have us as the proof,

we’re mere men who believe that these are ours”.


You see shame thriving

right in the G spot of a vagina,

the watch says five, and you release

a scandal, you filmed her above a concrete

and now it is free, she’s watched, you fondly smile

take the fondling of dicks as the best compliment

her heart’s a lie, her works become a bad dream

the posters say the shame is written on vaginas!


You drink her with wine

throw them on her body to wet

the parts you think of, the six packs

hardly care of her packs when she’s bloody,

a father enters her for he’s a man, a husband does

for he took charge to feed her, you open her badly

when she’s not yours, those bite marks of yours

say it loud that you know the world is not concerned!


Kabir Deb is a published writer and poet. Born in Haflong and completed his Masters on Life Sciences from Assam University. His work has been published from different national and international magazine like Different bTruths, Counter Currents, Reviews, Cafe Dissensus, Spillwords magazine and his works rely on political activisvm. He recently won the Reuel International Poetry Prize in 2019




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