A Section of Feminists, and Sex-Workers

They say they are feminists,
and so they proclaim:
“What are morals? Yuck!
A label to subjugate us!
And here we go nude! These breasts are so lovely!
Men, come, see them, touch them and pay!”

They hold an umbrella over a sex worker, and say:
“Sister, this is your body! Use as it you wish
They sell physical labor, you sell sex:
you’re doing a nicer job,
for what is more pleasant than sex.
Those women are stupid who talk of morals & spiritual things!”

A goddess heard everything.
But she left it for humans to decide as she granted them will.
She sent a messenger who was assaulted by feminists,
when she said: “Okay ladies, claim your natural right to your body.
But don’t claim greatness!”

Feminists asked: Who is great then?

The messenger replied:

“Look at that poor woman
who’s wealthy by thoughts, as she says:
“My labor goes in making toys to please kids,
not in gratifying men’s lust.”

“Look at that woman hugging the trees,
lest they should be cut down by forest men.
Her labor is for environment.”

“Look at that gorgeous woman
working in the field, singing:
‘I sell my labor in reaping crops,
not my beauty in satisfying hunger of men
whose wives are awaiting them!”

Feminists asked: “We fight for rights of sex workers!”

Said messenger: “I’m glad you think of them.
And you protect them by glorifying prostitution,
just as someone would protect the poor
by promoting poverty!”

Messenger concluded:
“Giving sex is no gift to humanity.
Animals give it to each other, each day!”

A Trafficked Girl Sighs

Silence would break into scream
Like a calm morn pierced with
Flight of cackling geese;

The love preserved for beau,
Amidst fantasies of bliss,
Thirsty demons would pollute– with
Filthy lust, accumulated on tongues lewd;
And no man of repute would ever smell
The touched bloom!

The clean bed is no more than sludge
A virgin‘s modesty would sink in;
Flies would swarm around, stray pigs rollick–
Satiated lot would leave, throwing pittances

A day would come when price of her flesh
She would negotiate,
Feeding with priority the wealthier wolves;

All shame, all fear would finally depart—
An inevitable reconciliation to fate!

A Trafficked Girl Sighs

Silence would break into scream
Like a calm morn pierced with
Flight of cackling geese;
The love preserved for beau,
Amidst fantasies of bliss,
Thirsty demons would pollute– with
Filthy lust, accumulated on tongues lewd;
And no man of repute would ever smell
The touched bloom!
The clean bed is no more than sludge
A virgin’s modesty would sink in;
Flies would swarm around, stray pigs rollick–
Satiated lot would leave, throwing pittances
A day would come when price of her flesh
She would negotiate,
Feeding with priority the wealthier wolves;
All shame, all fear would finally depart—
An inevitable reconciliation to fate!