why the caged boy sings... Behind a man's hands A man's eyes A man's tongue And a man's lies Sits a shivering nappy headed boy Sitting Indian-style Sitting, rocking, shivering while Fuzzy flashlight eyes in corners stare Sitting, rocking, shivering while Scant noises surrounding scare the Devil out of him. Scary noises from voices he hears But has not comprehended in years Scary noises from ghosts and demons So reverberating the walls within Shaking little boys to shivering, trickling tears Behind a man's coldness Behind a man's bitterness A man's polygamous ways ...extramarital forays Sits a teenage boy scared of rejection Sits a teenage boy with his newly found erection Sits a teenage boy with Blowpop coated lips Sits a teenage boy...wet dreams and desires to part women's hips Scary feelings he doesn't understand Scary notions of what it's like to be a man Scary premonitions of no fatherly figure positions Never figured to or bothered Just dropped his seed and offered Illusions Delusions Ultimately creating confusions. Alone... In his cage... Surrounded by his rage... Big black buck on the outside Trembling doe on the inside Gladiator to the masses horny, shivering, rocking, nappy headed boy trickling tears as the thunder passes... ******************************************************* note from verse: people wonder why men do the things we do...i think that captures a great deal of it
Speaking of poems, one of my favourites. Are you a man? If If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat those two imposters just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on"; If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run - Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son! By Rudyard Kipling
turn on the radio nah, **ck it.. turn it off fear is your only god, on the radio. nah... **ck it turn it off
