-introversion – thirty eight

introversion thirty eight

-introversion – thirty eight

my pom poms wore out long ago


Part of the reason why you don’t see me cheer

not a fanboy,
not a manboy,
not a toyboy,
not a suck up playboy,

not your convoy,
deliverer of joy,
nor your waiting ploy,
or your soggy soy.

i’m the real mccoy,
leo tolstoy,
hardened iron,
polished alloy.




there are two things which break a man
being taught how to be one
by his son
or by his wife
both are necessary
if he struggles on his own


Pray you have a good one of each or either.
As heartbreaking  as it is,
To be shown how to be something,
You assumed you already are,
It leaves a tranquil etch in you,
Too proud,
You still wear the achievement,
Despite the bereavement.

Pangs for alphahood,
Missing manhood,
Courage, chivalry,
Wayward gentlemanly,
Finding galantry,
Sitting on your sons shoulders,
Sitting in your wife’s breast.

It’s ok,
Taste it on your lips,
Swirl it on your palate,
Let it dance at the back of your throat,
And fill your belly,
There’s nothing that can sweeten the blow,
It’s something you just have to swallow slow.




endurance and love
chivalry and healing
rugged and poetic
silence and fortress

travel well boy
what a fine rucksack for manhood


I am not a poster boy.
I’m hands; toil, work, fist and palm.
I’m heart; longing, caged, temper and tenderness.
I’m body; scars, agility, strength and fortress.
I’m eyes; vision is given, insight hidden, foresight ten steps ahead, gaze averted.
I care not for your outward fetish for boys.
I am loins, I am bursting seed, ready to impregnate a pure womb.
I’m a man.
I’m the seed and the womb, the soul of the wheel that turns society.
I am seed and earth, sun and water, air and breath,
The poetry of creation, afloat when heaven kisses earth and mist is born.
I am patient gestation.
I’m the bosom of warmth, the lap-nest of home, I’m the gate-less castle,
The birds that hover over it.
I am woman-man, as tender as colostrum bursting nipple,
As rabid as dog eating flesh.
Genderless, gendered physicality, valour and chivalry, my honour.
I am man, I will not hold your hand,
If you desire any less than,
The distance, the expand,
Of a hand span or across vast lands,
About face and address this incessant need to long for the brittle.
If you need a voice to form calluses of lies on your bones,
Of stories, of cliches, of pretty nothing-whispers in the ear of your soul,
Go ahead and find that boy, and be a big girl and don’t cry.
I am a man, I cannot be contained by ‘I am’.


On men and women


Men who are doormats deserve women who step on them.
It is unbecoming of a grown man to allow any woman destroy herself or himself with incessant infringement of his rights.
It is unbecoming and classless of a woman to stoop and lose her self respect by disrespecting her husband.

A wife’s stature only increases, the love for her compounds and the world lays at her feet dependent on the level of manners and etiquette she executes in the most trivial of matters through to the most vital.

A man’s respect and awe for him, only increases by having a sensible and noble firmness of conviction in all matters. Lack of confidence and belief in oneself is unattractive as is egotism and arrogance. The balance is fine and takes an artist of wisdom to know the limits of both without being meek.

This is why the single most important thing in this day and age of being bereft of timeless values, for both males and females to do is to culture themselves with the arts, wisdom, the sciences, religious and sacred knowledge and all intricate details of all the physical, emotional, spiritual and mental.
Practising a technique makes one a master of it.
Practise culturing yourself.