All* Human Males are Horny Bastards

It’s truer than you know. They think with their penises. They ogle at your breasts and ‘check out’ your figure. No, not just the overtly cheap guys who you encounter in the streets everyday. I would say they are just more honest about it.
Watch out. It could be anyone. Anyone with a penis. Many of your acquaintances, maybe family members in some cases and even teachers. And the old man who seems to be from a ‘good family’ and probably has grandchildren is not as pure or trustworthy as you may think. In fact the older they get, the more likely they are to put these thoughts into action. And isn’t it true that you would feel even less comfortable admitting abuse from them than someone who would be ‘command more respect’.
Sometimes, to your horror, you find that your own male friends talk like that when they are with other guys. They discuss ‘boob sizes’, ‘cleavages’, and what not. Do you even realise they can’t see past your physical form? Do we ever discuss penis sizes? For god’s sake, do we even look there?
No. Don’t be scared. Be disgusted or angry. If women were in control, I believe most men would have serious injuries to their thinking organ. Many probably would not even be able to have sex anymore. This would indeed be good for the population problem.

This patriarchal society where women have to dress according to the corruption and filth in the minds of males needs some changes. Why do, I seriously wonder, some women go to the trouble of wearing heels (bad for the back), and choking tops to get such bastards to notice them? If it’s out of pride in your own beauty, go ahead, but do question yourself about whether or not it has anything to do with males.

Have you ever noticed that most swear words are demeaning to women? It’s bitch. And son of a bitch. Why is there no male equivalent? Like, what do we call men who have the sexual morals of a ‘slut’? A woman magnet? Why is that not given the same filthy connotation as the word ‘slut’? Yes, sometimes the word dog, cur, jigilo(spelling, anyone?) are used but listen around and observe their rarity.

And though the saying goes, ‘you can’t live with them, you can’t live without them’, I think a woman is perfectly capable of living without them. But we are conditioned to believe that we can’t. If you have the education to make a living, enough friends and other family, why men? Oh that’s right. For sex. I understand. That will be their only purpose to us.
And I doubt they have a problem with being seen that way. After all they are more obsessed with it than women. If only they could be honest about that. That they are sex objects. Not us.

All these men who think of sex with every decent looking girl they see should be trapped in a prostitutes’ house till they are so sick of sex or they’re bankrupt spending on them. Though it might sound like a treat but they will not have a choice of coming out till they will never feel like looking at a woman that way again. And the sex workers can mint money and better their lives. Maybe even enroll in a college.


Let me suggest a punishment for rapists. It’s similar to the degree of violence I would sentence a tree killer with. Strip him. Pour cold water on him and whip him for a while. Ten will do. Too mild? Wait. I’m not done. Drag him through the streets, still stripped and beat the drums to draw attention to him. Show the world that he’s a criminal. A shame to society. Especially show him to the people who believed in him. Humiliation and frustration should saturate his soul. Ashamed, he should be taken to a stake. (Like witches were in the medieval times). His crime should be announced and he should be castrated. His genitals thrown in a rubbish dump full of worms. Let him watch it being consumed. And if the girl was a minor or disabled (physically or mentally), burn him alive.

Anything less than a rape can be given moderations of this. Let other men watch and fear. For, they should live in fear if they can’t respect us. But the ones pure at heart will have nothing to fear. I know some of them too. Which is why there is a * next to ‘All’ in the title. This post won’t offend anyone who has done nothing wrong. It’s a bit bold I agree. And so violent that on re-reading I too will feel disgusted. But idealism and being a softy be damned. People are best ruled by fear. Not love. No matter how hard you try.

Cloud no. 5

No no! Don't taste it!
You won't be able to live without it afterwards.

And its not found in plenty.

A Moment of Insanity? / Clarity?

How intensely have you questioned your sanity? Today my brain perceived differently- I saw at angles I hadn’t seen before and heard at times I couldn’t explain. I didn’t like it. The violence, the hatred, the filthy perversion suddenly struck me freshly. As was everything else. It was too sharp. I couldn’t breathe. In fresh air I moved like one dead. I was dead. All my motor functions were mechanical. I don’t remember. I tried to gain back life from leaves. But I needed a tree- to really hug a tree. People!

People are everywhere looking at me from all around. I can’t run. I can’t be alone.
I wander lost then as if they didn’t exist. I picked up my bag and left. I heard voices calling me- again and again and again. Louder and more frantic.
I ran.
I ran away.
Ran till I reached some trees.
People here too. Too many people!
Breathing not full.
Flushed, red in the cheeks, hot
Try to breathe, try hard to breathe.
No thought. No music.
Blank.
Shivering. Trembling. Hug my bag.
Not helping.
Stare. No blink at people-not people
Just moving objects that make sound.

First thought- how to go home?
To go home? Yes.
To go to Home? Yes!
Quiet forest. No people forest.
How?

I look around- road, buses, noise.
All around. All around.

Can’t!!!

Breathe in,
Out.
Deep.
Don’t cry.
I cry.
But no sad-only tears
I can’t feel.
Except alone- isolated.
Why? I can’t talk. No sound.
Only heavy breaths.

Can I get up and walk?
Try. Yes I can.
Two. My reflection takes over.
I stay scared, vulnerable,
Open to hurt inside.

Now I look around.
Except the weakness in my
Legs, I feel nothing- normal.
Perception still new but not
As harsh.

I’m home, away from
Violence and hate. Away
From perversion. Away from
People. Dirty people.

Just me, sky, terrace.
I will return, operate machine like.
Till scared me comes back ok.

Earth

There is vulnerability
In the bud, and
Small new leaves.
In all young,
Newborns sprouting
Into Life.

There is freshness in
Water- life giving
Sparkling fluid;
Magical, flowing,
Crashing, spraying,
Raining,
From the clouds;
From the mountains
Into the expansive sea.

There is infinite energy
Power, radiance, in
The Sun.
It can give warmth and comfort
Or scorch and destroy.
Blind with brilliance or
Dive from beautiful hues.

Great big old
Mountains.
I needn’t kneel to feel
Humbled.
Fresh with new life
And crisp air.

Life is a miracle.
This Earth is a miracle.
Earth is home.

On a Modified Version of Democracy

Those of my regular readers in Karnataka (as though I’m read worldwideJ) will know about the elections held recently.

This being my first opportunity to exercise my vote, I thought about it a great deal. My dad told me about the usual politics, the leaders and how corrupt each one is. By the end of it, I wondered whether I should vote at all- ‘all the options are so rotten anyway.’

By the next day, pamphlets started coming in about each candidate and party. All of them seemed polite, promising all sorts of things. But it’s an old joke isn’t it- ‘a politician’s promise’.

I was told that if I don’t vote, others would use my vote to add to their own favourite parties-proxy. I also heard about the option of saying I don’t like any of the candidates but here’s my vote. This was a good option. But I decided by then that I would vote. For an independent candidate.

So I voted for him. They told me I wasted my vote both on the day of the elections and the day of the results. I wonder- do they consider it similar to betting on which horse will win, or see it as an expression of what they want in the country? So my candidate didn’t win. At least I know I supported what I believed in. ‘Give a chance to someone new.’ Power corrupts but by the time it effects this candidate, someone newer will rise.

Agreed. Of all the possible ways of governance that exist today, democracy is probably the best, but it can be improved upon. Consider this:

Most of those who vote are swayed emotionally or by ‘gifts’ that appear at the time of elections. Why leave the fate of the country in such hands? Yet, it is they who will be ruled so they must be the ones deciding.

So a good way of doing it would be to not have parties. Only individuals who compete to run the country. Each person will have to have an efficient way of interacting with the people he or she represents. A transparent system of reports on what they have done and feedback form the people. Dialogue. They will be elected based on a trial period where they are judged for efficiency. Rather than misuse of power, this system will ensure competence in administration.

And with the lack of parties, people will be equal and unattached to sects of society. The recent Al Gores idea of interactive television for democracy would help this idea boost off.

(Disclaimer: I’m no political science student and this is just a rough idea. Someone who knows more should be able to flesh it out.)

Why vote for words and empty promises? Why not for actions and results at the grass root levels? Because ‘Everybody Loves a Good Drought’? I don’t. and neither do those who die in them.

Women and Kitchens

Women have far more complex brains than men. After some observation I have stared to feel that the main factor in dumbing down women is the kitchen. It has been done through out history.

I don’t mean to say that one can’t get creative in the kitchen, for that is an art too, but that most women don’t see it that way. Peeling and cutting vegetables, especially onions and potatoes, cooking rice etc are activities that don't require much creativity or analysis. Once one learns the general method, it is a matter of repetition. It’s a brain killing job! That’s why many people are known to have music on or someone to talk to as they are at it. If brain cells aren’t used, they die without any hope of regeneration again!

So with generational repeated disuse, and patriarchal mental conditioning, it is a perfect way of controlling women. It takes enough time to keep the house functional that the root of thinking about other things itself is killed. How effective. Whoever thought it up must’ve been a genius. But not all credit goes to the men. Women themselves propagate it!

The sooner you trap a woman in a kitchen and bind her to the house with a baby, the more effectively she will be ‘put in her place’.

The Un-title-able

For too long I have absorbed.

Here in this moonlight. I still see colour.

I breathe. I create.

There is no romantic breeze

No perfumed candles.

But I yield to your power

Gentle power.

In your trance.

So what am I to you?

Anything you can want

Shape me in your moment of creative bliss.

I can’t see the past

All I know is you.

Lines without coherence

Shapes that mean nothing

In the moonlight there’s less to see

More to feel

More that flows without looking back

In your power.

The sky has such a bright nose stud

And a mole on her leeward side.

This reality is constructed.

I constructed it.

Free flow

These shapes…

Stars are moles

Trees make pretty silhouettes

My pen reflects the moonlight.

The door ajar.

For too long I have absorbed

Can I flow?

Neck stretched to see the sky

Eyes closed I see anyway

Some mosquitoes want to

Enter immortality

My words

Freedom is to sit

Not knowing what you just wrote

And still write on;

Is to breathe without

Chains from the past

Off with the hooks attached

To my back.

I sink into a bath.

Meaningless.

Do you believe in science or

Wilder imaginations?

Self absorbed humans.

Written in the moonlight.

Now no more flow.

Is this not my medium?

Let me fly

Cancel time.

This isn’t craft.

This a form of freedom

An attempt, rather.

Inhibited.

Give me wings and let me fly

Or I’ll grow them for you

With you.

Is the night sky deep blue?

Or is it just me?

Impatience.

I look back in bright light

Beautifully vague

Vaguely beautiful.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

It is my medium.

My words, my mind

It is the truth.

I can’t fly now

But I play (Do they know?)

Incomplete, the feeling,

My neck and wrists exposed.

Relief.