Drifting off into the slumber of the years
I ask myself the number of my fears
And what keeps me tethered onto this earth
Besides the woman my mother who to me gave birth
The chilling facts
Recall the acts which monsters
Hide beneath their beds
And bring out to read about
The dominion of the children
And they take down the giants
They conquer what cannot be
The missing part of childhood
or latent homosexuality?
What offers up the reasons for the curse
Than the single seasons
Time must rehearse
And flog until its dead
The lifeless corpse of the horse
But what shall we make of reckoning
Each life affirming jerk
The freedom of the sperm is grounds
For marital divorce
That women are not free
We know of course
But what freedom have men, who are chained
Locked down from their emotions
Free to act, without come back
Yet attacked by religious institutions
Yet all responsibility rests with women
Whether for the men or the children
They awake, and push and pull the universe
Yet cannot tear its fabric
That is their curse
And men's curse is perhaps inverse
Without real power, in the house
In the hour
Their recourse is in destruction
Of course
And they burst and they flower
But to create is only our
Saving grace
In the seed of art
Or in the seed of sperm
But womens' creation is far greater
In opposition
They must harbour and hold
And nurture the creature
While men must demand to be heard
Through impotent rage
Or on the potent stage
They choose to tread
Because no woman hears their voice
Their mother instead
Or has their sister read
Their books or listened to their choice
As the daughters assassinate their fathers
And the sons blot out their mums
All this turns in the mill of life
And time like a steam roller
Rolls on
It only leaves the impression of the man
And woman
Locked in a love pose
Flattened on the tarmac road of eternity
Like murder victims
Drawn in chalk outline
Burnt shadows
While over their bodies
Run the children
Who will themselves
Catch up with time in the end
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