Tag Archives: childhood



[High-pitched melodious music]

A newborn baby is born


How innocent! *sardonic snigger* (source: telegraph.co.uk)


I came into the world

Pure and innocent

Through a round, soft, most-abused road

The road travelled by all men

Both sages and fools alike

I was completely unbothered about the strange environment

I was invincible after all

And for my sake alone the universe had slowed


Then the buxom midwife raped me!

As she snatched me from my mother

And cut off that soft secure attachment

Like a sexual sadist roughened me

A patting here, a smothering there

Said she was trying to make me cry

She told my mum crying babies made her horny

She then rubbed oil all over me

Just the way she liked it

And mom looked on

She had even dared dip a dildo* into my mouth

Said she needed to suck out the mucus in my throat

I knew I saw something creamy in that sinful tunnel

Same tunnel that had traversed the road from whence I came

The sinful tunnel

Used by sages and fools alike

On the round soft road

And I could swear this cream was going into my mouth

And not coming out as she lied to my mother

I cried!!!


Mom smiled

Her baby was crying

I wish I could tell her what was happening to me


I was being defiled

I wept for what seemed like hours

Mom later told me I had cried at birth for about 50 whole seconds!




The midwife had fondled with my fragile sinless gonads

Said she was wiping off the meconium*

Is coprophilia* even real?


Finally, rest comes

God rested on the seventh day

I was settling down on the eighth day

When the doctor pulled his stunt


This paedophile called it circumcision

As he clamped my innocent sweet little hot-doggy penis

And he cut the crown of pride away

Yet he wasn’t sued


Eventually I grew older




Oh father, dear father!

“Son, once upon a time I killed a lion.

Santa Claus lives at the North Pole

God is a sky-giant-djinee who lives to grant all your wishes”




I am in for a life of lies and trials

Rape comes in different circumstances.


{To be continued…}

Word helper:

Dildo: Should mean an artificial penis, but I think what the midwife used was the regular suction tube for newborns.

Meconium: the first faeces of a newborn, usually stains the pelvis.

Coprophilia: a sexual preference for faeces. It’s a real condition. I did not make it up. Google it.

BACKGROUND: As any frequent visitor might guess, this is a bit too vulgar for my usual themes in writing.

Anyway, I stumbled upon bits of this I wrote from a while ago and it seemed very appropriate to develop and finally post. This is because of how I feel when I consider the state of humanity and planet today. I feel I must repeat: even though my writings seem mostly cynical, I actually have good thoughts regarding humanity generally. Despite these good thoughts, the sad reality is: these are critical times to bring a child into, and I wonder what I will say if I should make it to the close of this century. I wonder how starkly different the next 50 years are gonna be, in everything –science and technology, law and crime, morals and spirituality, art and entertainment, ecosystem and energy.

This very thought is heavy enough to keep awake all night tonight.

From My Veranda: First Floor, Evening… Soaked With Burdens In The Rain

raining sheets

It appears noisy and cold. It appears calm at the same time. It stirs up exhilarating feelings that in themselves are quite warming and liberating. It brings to memory the lovely childhood moments gone by…moments of simplicity and pure life and fun…moments of freedom and free-spiritedness (bordering on carelessness); carelessness as we cast aside all our worries -well, what little fleeting ones we had (likely never to pick them up again) . And off into the rain we took.

What heavenly experience!
The rain drizzled first, and prepped our skins.
Then, the accompanying heavy breeze made us float in the air, as we screamed and jumped and kicked.
Finally the showers came; lightly at first, tickling our skins, playing on our senses, luring us further, against parents’ cries to run for shelter.
How bold we would have become by the time of the downpours.

This is not what I see today.
Need I say how sad the obviously sad life of adulthod appears?!
I just had my blood pressure checked and it’s scaringly higher than it has always been. It’s still within normal limits though. Is this supposed to be a sign of approaching adulthood? That I am now learning to bend my back to the burden; droop my shoulders at the weight; and let the chains be hooked to my skin. Learning to weigh my life down with worries whilst setting my blood pressure free to soar heights close to heaven, close to the grave?!
Then the rain called me out.
It’s evening time and the men in the stream of life are once again at it.

In the drizzles, adults don’t run about and play. I see them planning and worrying.
In the gay breeze, adults don’t float fearlessly about. See them rushing to whatever place THEY consider safe. (Safe from what, I wonder. From the wetting of the rain? I shake my head.)
In the showers, adults don’t start living on top of themselves. I see them become frantic and running with some degree of carelessness. (At least, they are careless about something!) They are closing up stalls, and packing up goods, and competing for vehicles, and ducking under sheds. Not a single soul just taking one moment out of many more rains to come, to let go…
…Oh! Bless you, CHILD. I see you leaping out with baby-jumps, unminding of your dress. Don’t worry, your shameless older ones forget when they get into macho-bar-fights and feminine-jealousy-clashes, and mess up their dresses and honours. I see you laughing gleefully and setting your spirit free to sample the simple joys of life…

Meanwhile, out the rain, that drenched guy doesn’t appear happy. What is he worrying about now -his wet dress, his failed appointment, his next meal? See the halo of resignation adorning his panicky features.
Those wet grown-ups, packed like dripping rats in a small box, are all riled and joustling for space in the commercial vans. They are worrying if they are going to catch “a cold”, if their destinations will be rain-free; some sellers with their wares have been given an early retrenchment by the rain, and are wondering how much profit they have made from the day.
Bless your kind motherly heart! The woman fretting over whether her kids are back from school and are safe from the downpour.
They are all there… From the “justifiable” to the “flimsy” reasons… Human hearts heavy with worries over things they can’t help many times.
Are we supposed to be immune from worries?
Well, humour me by being inhuman?

Epilogue: And when one of these come to me tomorrow, with a high blood presure, I shall retrieve this writing and read it to them. Of the day I saw them.
…In the rain.
…From my veranda