MusingsPoetry

Sexual Crisis

There was a time when sexuality
was our moral identity.
A milestone of dignity
that heralds our maturity.
It was an emblem of purity
that cripples the stride of insecurity.
It was the assurance of continuity
and the insurance of morality
until the thunder of obscenity
struck our virgin sanity.
Beyond fun and intimacy,
it was the template for legitimacy
and the hallmark for vibrancy.
It was the keynote for an absolute normalcy
until the entrance of a strange idiocy.
Then like a big bang,
our feelings were left to hang
and our emotions became a scary gang.
Then we moved from the nuptial institution
to the recent accredited prostitution.
Prostitution was not the promised land
so we welcomed the fancy gay brand.
And the gay brand seemed to be out of date
then we sought romance with a robot and went on a date.
Then the floodgates of all sexual pleasure opened:
to make love with animals, trees, cars, mountains, rivers, islands, metals, arts, ghosts and nameless objects.
Yet satisfaction is still afar
and our sexuality stays ajar.
We explored every facet of our sexuality
not for the aim of reproductivity.
And some opt for a transgendered agenda,
to be a male, female or any other gender.
A community of abnormals
seeking recognition and address that is formal.
Everything have turned sour,
are you the difference of this hour?

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