Get Your Premium Membership

Best Boys Will Be Boys Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Boys Will Be Boys poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of boys will be boys poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Boys Will Be Boys poems, articles about Boys Will Be Boys poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Boys Will Be Boys poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...

View all new Boys Will Be Boys Poems

The Best Boys Will Be Boys Poems

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Feminism, They tell me

They tell me that I must avoid feminism.
They tell me that feminism makes me hate men.
They tell me as a feminist no man will like.
They tell me all about misandry and not about
misogyny and after I hear them talk I am all for
Misanthropy. They tell me being manly is not ok,
They tell me short skirts are slutty and long skirts
Are prude and I. Am just. A sum of my parts.

They tell me not to walk alone at night
Or I might turn a man on.
Not to be to giving or might as well go along.
They tell me to clutch my keys for when
Bad men arrive
They tell me: “Hey girl, why not smile?”
And ask me what´s the hurry.
They tell me they are a nice guy, don't worry
I am in no rush. Let's just be friends, I have nothing
in demand. They tell me, with the same heart in their mind,
That I lead them on, and ask me why I don´t love them?
But I did, they were my friend.

They tell me catcalling is a compliment but call me
Arrogant if I thank. And if I walk by in silence they
Call me ****, they call me skank. They tell me those
rowdy guys in daylight light are just a bit drunk and
nothing more. And the way that they groped me more,
just let it go and leave before they get more.

They tell me how it is my fault on the day that I get raped.
Boys will be boys, I can not expect them to behave.
How silly of me, to think them human.
They tell me no arrests are made, and before the day after, They,
They tell me to get over it, and call me psycho when I flinch.
I think some have half the mind to rape me again.
“Why don't I trust them?¨” is all they have to ask?
But look at what you thought me,
You taught me not to trust.

That was not feminism, feminism was not my class.
It taught me better, that my voice will give me trust.
That I am not alone and you have not weakened me.
That boys are not boys and better than we make them to be.
That my body is my body and I should not fear the
Streets at day and night like I do now.
And every lurking danger,
is not the sum of my faults.

Copyright © Jacquie Davis | Year Posted 2016

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I Told You


I told you that Uncle Danny touched me
It hurt and made me cry
I told you I didn’t like him
You said I shouldn’t lie.
I told you my bra got snapped in class
That I was treated like a toy
Your response was simply 
That boys will be boys.
I told you I was raped
By a man that I knew
Despite my tears and anger
You asked what did I do.
I told you a man came in my dorm
Violated me after breaking my door
When I reported to campus police
They asked me what I wore.
I told you my boss 
Grabbed my breast at work
I wanted to file a complaint 
You replied just ignore the jerk.
I got groped at the club last night
By this guy who was a punk
I wanted to call the police
You told me that he’s just drunk.
I’ve been telling you these things
Happen year after year
You say you are listening 
But do you really hear?
I told you these things happened to me
As you laugh, scoff, and snort
Blaming and shaming endlessly 
And you wonder why we don’t report.
I wonder when these excuses will end
Even though the road seems insurmountable 
When will society stand
And start holding abusers accountable?
Until then I will continue forward
With my words as proof
I shall walk in the light 
And stand in my truth.

Copyright © Christina Hart | Year Posted 2018

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

- Boys Will Be Boys -

                                    Some unmarried older men 

                    want the same from their mistresses as their socks

                                   ~ gently used and freedom ~

                                           Cheers for freedom

                                                  Be you

                                                 Be true

                                         Do not ever be blue

Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Boys Will Be Boys

The stars reached back
Each night
When I prayed that I would wake up and the pain would be over
And that everything everyone had ever said to me
And every name they had ever called me
Was all a bad dream
The worst, shittiest nightmare of a dream
That never ended
No matter how many times I fell asleep
Because sleep was my escape
But escapes don’t last forever 
And dreams don’t last forever
But nightmares can last forever

But, no matter what, I can’t help you
You miserable excuse for a friend
You ruined what I was
You hardened the face that once smiled 
The face that used to light up a room
Had been hardened to stone by a society 
That believed that “gay” was synonymous with “weird”
And that “bully” was synonymous with “joke”
But the fact is you were the joke
The joke that kept replaying in my head
And laughing at me
Even after the jokes had stopped the joke kept going
The joke was me; I was a joke to everyone, even myself
And my dad would joke that I should man up
And my mom would joke that the other kids were insecure
And my brother would joke that he made it through
And everyone else would joke that “boys will be boys”
But I didn't see the joke in any of it
There was no joke in my tears
And there was no joke in the forty pounds I lost when I stopped eating

You just can’t get enough of the pain
But your pain doesn’t have to be my pain
So, so what if boys aren’t supposed to cut themselves?
And so what if boys aren’t supposed to cry?
And so what if boys aren’t supposed to be the ones who become anorexic?
I’m a boy and I did it all
And what can you say about yourself?
You’re a sad excuse for a boy
So put away the guns and fists
And pick up a pen and a paper
And figure yourself out
Before you tear someone else down to their foundation
And let the rain ruin their ability to stand themselves

And I think
That the healing came
When I realized that someday you would be on the bottom
And someone would tear you down
And you would sit there as the rain poured in
And you would drown in your regret
And I would still send out a life jacket for you
Because you ruined the outside smile
But you didn’t ruin the inside faith
And the faith got me through
Because tomorrow is brighter
And the sunshine does come after the rain

Copyright © Owen Haldon | Year Posted 2014

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

If I Were A Stone

If I Were A Stone If I were a stone…without a doubt I would be a lovely marbled granite… the center of attention in a newly updated kitchen. All eyes would be upon me…the first choice of decorators and would- be buyers everywhere. I would be a “must have” and a “deal breaker” for purchasers the world over. I would lord it over the mundane and dull kitchen cabinets no matter what the style. While their doors would be slammed shut a thousand times a day and scrubbed till they were sore…(ouch!)… I would be lovingly and carefully wiped down until they could almost see their reflection in me. My island would be the gathering place and hub of the home…children would utilize me for their homework…my mistress would cheerfully hum a happy tune while rolling out delicious pies or cookies for dessert... my master would lay his briefcase down on me in order to hug the cook! Unlike the living room rug (who thinks he’s king by the way.) I would not be stepped on, stomped on with dirty or muddy sneakers or roller skated on, (boys will be boys) or taken for granted in any way. I would be the `piece de resistance` of the household and the most admired feature of the home. And last …but not least…I would be carefully selected and carved, to serve as a towering memorial for loved ones to come and say a silent prayer for our nation’s fallen …and… bravest men! I would be more than proud to be a granite stone!
For the "Stoned" contest.

Copyright © Beatrice Boyle | Year Posted 2011

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Boys do boys BREAKS toys.  Knick knack paddy wack. Give. A dog. A bone.
Some say the things that boys do are wrong and even more wrong still.
Pushing a go cart up a steep steep hill. Wrestling down steps and falling. 
Breaking bones. Being home alone.  Fire crackers one two three STOP spitting
On me.
Boys even when they're right they're wrong. Boys are strong.  They are 
Triumphant on mix martial arts and wrestling night. They need a place here in 
SOCIETY.  They need their own show and tell month.  What week? What's a week?

Fighting through one trillion trillion jeers.  Not wanting to show their fears.
                           THE  MEDIA  COMES THE  QUICKER
Fearing vulnerability boys are nothing but the brunt of solid steel with DIAMOND
Spikes.  Many boys are MELLOW but spell  WE  DO RAISE HELL.  Some might 
Think boys do things for SPITE. Such as staying alive? Or flying a kite?
Boys but when dark is night stay inside.  At DIFFICULT times they fight even when
They're right thinking they are strong. MAYBE they are wrong?  

Wrestling tearing fisting clenching cursing spitting stomping reaching for his own 
Fate. Suffering alienation and hate.  What he wants he gets one way. (Sparing no grace) or another.  All in all in all. Some boys walk a CHALK line and are fine.
In the light of the life of things this is how it is. Boys are STRONG. They go long.
 THE MEDIA THE CONDEMNATION THE VILIFICATION:  Boys are bursting through malls tearing down walls shooting guns on the run. 

Nothing but boys will be boys. Nothing is truth until it is seen through the eye of a boy
Keen. Gangs, tussles and physical rebuttals. There those tails wagging of puppy dogs, 
Yeah boy! You got SWAGGER you got sway. Football gear and baseball cards yeah all
Hard. Make way for shooting hoops hanging on stoops


Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Boys Will Be Boys

Was it big John or was it ol Jack
Who started me on this laugh attack
A limy or two
Now some haiku
Think I'll join in by throwing some smack

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Boys Will Be Boys

The pain will never go away, it just stays.
Everyday he tried to keep his head held high,
but everything would change in just ten days.

They said boys will be boys, it’s just a phase,
but again they were wrong, just one more lie.
The pain will never go away, it just stays

Each year, each month, each day was just a haze,
and all he wanted was to say goodbye,
but everything would change in just ten days.

The words, the pain, were just a repeated phrase,
He was their target, a special bull’s eye.
The pain will never go away, it just stays. 

School was pointless, just another maze.
One without escape, no matter how he try,
but everything would change in just ten days.

He made up his mind, and got no delays.
His last words: they were just simple goodbyes. 
The pain will never go away, it just stays,
but everything did change, in just ten days.

Copyright © Brianna Orendorf | Year Posted 2015

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Futyre child syndrome exposed

In a moment there was time a child could grasp corporeal and gracious
It stopped and I carefully gave non notice to educasees
that paused me to bleed blend assinine inaccurate aforementioneds
to preprocure a mule measured primrose pathos of interposes to analyze the ex ever jutaposes of irrevelant psuedo spawn spellings intrinsic of piss patterns nego 
nero nitro nuego of lunar literant intent grating gravity gunite givings presupposing cannon quantites quotient of add, substract, multiply, divide, die in my seat work consistent of soulservitude a prisoner of seatzenda, a great book read poised to a 
selling of elementary sealed solvent sedintary solices sleeveless saints of sanitary sectors sanctioning soulful sensibilities senitent of sailable sanities. Boys will be boys, ADD,ADHD a cool cover up for 80 % legis lay teachers to drugafy, deamplify, villify, castrate, humilitate, propogate the post predisposition of that which is normalcy to a degree of zombie cumulo butt compliance for the powers at be be-gone, biploar bulimec, blandering, blistering, bloging, bifurcating blog bog billows, stress all that is pharmacorelative with respect to the adultoparentive coaxial moneyisms that speaks to a bygone exoera of residio responsibile valiumviscous banailty. Cool calm creepy excel expenditures procede pre positive parental protocals procreating patterened presentials to predictive humo end hiatial hemorroids. In the end we prosperspire in pain pile potentials. Predictable predicates promise postmortem primal preordinates. Enjoy eating educational entrails!

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mind Of A Woman

The summer winds caress my skin.
Teardrops like squeezed  lemon drops spill.
A joy ride down my cheeks.
Joy emancipated from sadness speaks
Splash, it splatters on the ground.
A crown like structure  in slow motion seen.

Life cannot tarry, to embrace.
A little care, a little concern.
Love needs constant care.
But life is too busy looking fair.
A day has no divide.
No night or day defined.
Just doing my best, looking good.
My life is a unread book.
Money power within my fist.
Dreams are within my reach. 
If only I can purchase my vision.

Like when I was a kid.
As a kid my prince swept me off my feet.
Was Caressed and cuddled and spoilt.
My dreams retold before I sleep.
I slept peacefully cuddling my dreams.
Knowing, I was within the reach, of his powerful arms. 
Always there to break my fall.

Growing up was so swell, so much fun. 
All my passions like roller coaster ride, up and down. 
Teenage trauma like actors on a stage.
Well scripted parts Played.
Dialogues written by likes of Shakespeare in his plays.
Memories kept in my notepad archived.
Password protected from curious minds.

Visiting the saloon as often as I could.
Changing fashion to suite the current style.
Movies,  picnics, sleepovers and dates.
Boys will be boys, society said. 
I was strong enough to defend myself of their carnal need.

And time passes by defining my fate.
Now I am a grown up woman in full bloom. 
My career well defined.
Insecurities in this world of Patriarchy everyday face.
Lewd remarks of macho fashion brace.
Learnt to brave these obnoxious moments day after day.
My moral fiber strengthened beyond grace.
But somewhere, deep within myself there is this void.
Need for love of a different kind.

The warm embrace of  arms  to comfort me.
Strength of arms to catch my fall.
Nimble fingers to caress and cuddle me.
A kind voice to strengthen me when l am weak.
A gentle voice that can whisper words of love. 

A heart that can love me for what I am.
In books and movies have known of this type.
But in real life, I doubt, I can really find, that kind?
If, I should wait..? I don’t mind the wait.
And suffer, ignominy of society.
Do I follow the doctrine of  natural selection..?
I don't think so..! My heart and soul have a mind if their own.
And so it shall be.

Copyright © Sam Raj | Year Posted 2014

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Soccer Crazy

Soccer was the thing for all young men to play.
And my little love wanted to join desperately in the game.
So he got to be the goalie… to wear that special crown.
He was so excited as he was sent in front of that net.
And we were so very proud of what this honor surely meant.
I told every one he was my son and we couldn’t be prouder of him, than that.
But it didn’t take long for him to feel lost as his friends went running in the game.
So alone, he started kicking at dirt clods and looking for bugs with which to play.
Then he spun in circles and showed off for some girls in every way…
So the girls were sent to help keep his eye on the ball… as best they could.
For he had been paying attention to them, as the first goal went sailing through…
At this point I said oops and boys will be boys… as I smiled, though in doubt…
But it got better as he suddenly started exploring the net, and I heard a shout…
He’d decided to play spider man as he ran and threw himself at the net.
He tried to cling up higher with every jump he brilliantly took.
As I was waving my hands back and forth while trying to tell him to cut it out…
I was getting really frantic, trying to tell him that the ball was coming close…
But he was half way up the net as the next goal came sailing past to score.
Now my head was in my hands for the team kids were looking kinda sore....
For now they had to run their hearts out… to try to win the game and score.
I began to wonder if the team would ever forgive him if they lost?
The coach made two more visits to try to get his attention at any cost…
He really was quite kind as he said in no uncertain terms to leave the net alone…
And so, my son paid attention for another moment or more, you know…
But while everyone was running and scoring at the other end…
I turned to see him hanging upside down, his foot caught in the net, up in the air.
Everyone ran out to save him with me… or was it to save the net?
When we got back to sit down the coach was looking a little strained.
And I was contemplating hiding under the bleachers as the other team scored, again.
At half time, my little goalie seemed happy relegated to the bench with all his friends.
But I was worried he might be… kicked off the team… I was in terror, my friend…
At this point, several turned to assure me every thing would be all right...
After all, last year it had been their kid’s turn for… hanging upside down...

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2011

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Let There Be Peace

Let there be a new song of oneness
Not from the old ruggered gun of lies
That perches on the ego of pride, and
Let butterflies grow in the shoulder of
Hatred that governs this breakable world.
We can be called the songsters of love,
Those who knows how to curl joy among
Men shall we be known for all over;
This will bring us together in unity.
Boys will be boys again and girls, girls again.
Our daughters shall dream dreams again,
Our men shall go hunting rodent together;
The dance of our women shall be of holiness.
We can teach our fingers to hold one another,
Journey through with the world of others in 
our heart of gold night and day, smiling.
Let there be peace in your honourable heart ,
Let there be peace among the brethren,
We can suck out terrorism  among men;
Lick the verses in the joy of our brothers.
You'll be my hero before the song birds,
Do not ask how it going to come by here,
Do not ask with the eyes of lost and want,
Do not ask; it's possible with one heart.
We'll not die with this voice of silence,
Love those who make your day darker,
Tomorrow holds more feast in happiness.
Love those that poke their fingers in your eyes,
Our land need you and I to develop in purity.
Love those that scribed your name dishonestly,
We shall all drink from one cup soon.
The excitement in our lyrics shall rise soon
And we shall learn the great secret of water.
Unity is the core value of our lives,
Love strengthens our value of liberation,
Development beckon on the rock of oneness.
Give me your hands, we can build more when 
we are in one blood that speak better than that of Abel.

(C) John Chizoba Vincent

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2016

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I am Mark

I am a dreamer
A thinker of thoughts
A devout reader
One who tinkers with words?
And laughs at their form
Or cries at their sense

I am a man of my word
I’ll say what I do
And do as you say…
With a laugh along the way
No matter; come what may!

I am a father of two
Two boys in our image
Where boys will be boys!
Irreplaceable rascals we pride in their smiles
She laughs as we huddle –
Cries when no cuddles

I am tall
Yet it’s not a long way to fall
Although I bend
To kiss the lips of a very special friend
And sway – to get outta the way
During the month of a certain day

A husband I am
A lover; I will to be
A devoted being I am, with
Placid blood coursing through my veins 
A man truly in love with his special friend
A wife for life and thereafter…

I am loved
I know that in my heart
I hear it in their voice
I feel it with their touch
I am blessed

I am Mark

Frank Herrera’s Poetry Contest – “I AM”
6 Nov. 2014
2nd Place...

Copyright © Mark Trichet | Year Posted 2014

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.


When I was a kid, I know, long ago,
We scrumped apples from neighbours orchards,
Climbed trees, scared bees, skinned our knees,
And once, quite daft, built a raft on the river exe,
Which upended before I knew about vanishing stability,
Or indeed, even my own ability, to do important stuff, like swim,
And my parents felt in charge, unaware of that near insanity,
Life was adventurous, often dangerous, pleasant calamity.
After all, boys will be boys!

Now today, I hear folk rein their children in,
Its considered a sin to even think of doing wrong,
Like pre-pubescent fun fair balloons,
Modern minor loons are floated on virtual strings,
That report everything, each step, each minor misdirect,
Social media monitored, mobile device ahead of vices,
No chances to learn how to exist around even minor risk,
As parenthood clashes charged glasses, after classes,
Why boys cannot be boys.

We learnt to stand firm in a boxing ring, ears ringing,
Whilst on the rugby field we were stamped into shape,
Little gingerbread dough boys, crusted up into teenage loaves,
That may not have been to everyones politically correct taste,
But no matter the blame, we learned to stand, just the same,
And despite accusations today we were neglected,
I grew up in a World where our parents were respected,
For we leant quickly the need to hear them often say,
But officer, boys will be boys.

@Andrew Carnegie, Wiltshire, January 2017.

If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:

Copyright © Andrew Carnegie | Year Posted 2017

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Bicycle

When I had my first bicycle, I must have been eleven
It was bought for me to ride to school, just my idea of heaven
Yet in me was a devil that when with my mate came out
And soon our village neighbours, would begin to scream and shout

My bicycle was green as I remember looking back
I raced it round the village like it was my racing track
A used cigarette packet was clipped on the frame next to the spokes
When ridden now the bike sounded like a motor cycle folks

Now around the village we both rode making noise
It did not please the village oldies but then boys will be boys
We decided we would wind, up the village witch
Who at the time got us into trouble the horrible old *****

We would ride round the old folk’s house making a noise so loud
The old witch would be livid and that would make us proud
So we rode up to the houses my mate said here we go
But alas I lost my nerve and as round the old folk’s houses he rode

I shouted out quite loudly so the old witch would know 
Then her head it did pop out the window her fury was a glow
My mate was really furious he chased me up the road
Pedalling fast in front of him and looking back to goad

If he had ever caught me he would have killed me there and then
Next day it was forgotten and we were friends again
Yet biking would become our love what we enjoyed the best 
As for the village people, they still think we are a pest

Copyright © Owen Yeates | Year Posted 2012

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

boys will be boys

trigger warning Rape, sexual harassment

 you were 6 when the boy in the desk behind you kept pulling your ponytail till he made you cry. It was okay though,it meant you had pretty hair. 

You were 9 when the ball kicked at you by the boys in the field coloured your eye instead of the makeup you were not yet allowed to wear. It was okay though, they did that because you were so pretty you intimated them.

You were 12 when the filthy fingers of the boy next you on the bus marked your thighs blue. You didn't tell anyone though. You knew it was your fault really; that skirt was too seductive.

You were 16 when the man on the other side of the street had the brilliant idea of following you down the road, cornering you in that dark aisle and thrusting himself inside of you. Only to leave you there, a bloody half-naked carcass, repeating to yourself again and again that this was okay. This was okay because boys will be boys. Girls? Well, we just have to take it like a man.

Copyright © farah sultan | Year Posted 2018

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Poetic Justice

Visualize my children and you shall look
Upon the voyage of Captain James R. Cook;
It was the eighteenth of January in Seventeen Seventy-Eight;
Hardly a Hawaiian can forget the Date;
What befell upon the Islands was a terrible Fate.

During the Makahiki festival, Cook was thought to be Lono;
He would never live to see how he upset the (Balance) Pono;
The false god blew smoke from his mouth and had skin so pale,
Arriving on a floating island with a giant sail,
So Cook told them he was a God, never thinking this deceit might fail.

At first it went good they celebrated together,
But upon leaving the island, Cook hit nasty weather;
One ship had some problems and broke its foremast;
If they didn't turn around, the ship wasn't going to last,
So they headed back to the island faster than fast.

The Hawaiians had been generous and were generous again,
And even as the author holds this pen,
He knows "boys will be boys" and "men will be men,"
And the Hawaiian resentment, was starting to burn
For "this god who ate so much, but gave so little in return.”

When loose tools were stolen, men got even more irate;
Both sides Hawaiian and Haole began to fill with hate;
So Cook’s men stole a canoe and there was a small fight;
Nobody died, but the European sailors remained on shore for the night;
When they awoke, another of their large boats was missing from sight.

Cook was angry now and wanted his large boat back;
He marched on shore with marines, in an attempt to attack;
He grabbed him a hostage Chief Kalani'opu'u; 
In the wake, a riot began to ensue;
The Hawaiians got their clubs, while Cook waved in his crew.

Guns were fired, Hawaiians charged, and the Marines ran back to their boat,
And alone stood Captain Cook in his British red coat;
Cook was hit with a club, stabbed numerous times and killed;
Still more than two hundred years later the void can never be filled,
Like a cavity that's so deep it cannot be drilled.

What could the Hawaiians do?
It seemed as if the prophecies were coming true;
Death and demise would come from across the sea,
Though it never said what or who it might be;
Were these white foreigners, devils or the missing key?

One hundred years later, the Native Hawaiian Population was decimated;
Disease and materialism only helped to destroy all the Hawaiians created;
The US took their harbor and went on vacation on their white sands;
Now is time for change, the choice is in your hands;
Discover the truth, help return stolen lands.

Copyright © Joseph DeMarco | Year Posted 2007

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.


a day's work by lunchtime
another one by bed
her thoughts they keep running
around in her head
the world won't address her
or listen at all
to her female opinion
'tain't worth bugger all
if not for her mother
if one she has got
there'd be little comfort
when tied in a knot
by rules and conventions
invented by men
and that's not to mention
a 'good slap' now and then
so silent she wanders
through every day
in search of a foothold
for children at play
and life as an equal
at home and abroad
no wonder she's lonely
frustrated and bored
but men will be menfolk
and boys will be boys
and that's why i wonder
i don't hear a noise
when tuppence talk turns to
a fair go for she
who walks without mention
a slave to the free

for women's day

Copyright © steven hanlon | Year Posted 2015

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.


We were all born the same at different times,
‘Naked’ and closed eyes to the crime.
So why is she tugging down at her skirt,
In fear that we perceive her clothes as ‘too short’?
Yet wear non-fitted long skirts and be deemed as ‘unattractive’,
As they are not ‘appealing’ or ‘sexually attractive’.
But go out with shorter lengths and cropped up tops,
Labelled as ‘sluts’, ‘easy’, and ‘whores’.

Since when is having confidence and comfort in our bodies a crime?
Let’s not forget the effect on the men,
‘Not allowed to cry’ because it’s ‘strength’ they need to portray.
Tears streaming from a guy’s eyes are not what we seek,
For that shows ‘weakness’ in his mind it speaks.
Girls will howl that ‘boys will be boys’,
Associating them with cheating habits who treat us like ‘toys’.
Forgetting that our kind also does the same,
They are not as ‘simple-minded’ as most people would frame.
How much effort must it take?
To put on a facade just for our sake?
Of appearing ‘manly’ and ‘strong’,
‘Confident’ and ‘understanding’ of our emotional life songs?

Molding characteristics one should have before they can speak,
Isn’t it sad of this society preach?
That she must have traits that label ‘sensible’ or else perceived as ‘easy’,
Where she must keep her legs crossed or have shame to her name,
He must have traits that matches a lion’s roar,
Continuous fights until fist and mind grows sore.

Someone tell me, where is this rule?
‘Cause I’m growing sick of hearing this chatter,
Of how one should behave in this society’s matter,
Of society’s norms and values which is invisibly burnt into our minds.

Can someone highlight this ‘golden rule’?
‘Cause I’m growing aware of seeing the fear,
Where men and women cannot show their individualism because they are afraid,
Of being ‘judged’ so a false outer human shell had to be made.

Cause I’m growing angry of giving ‘the talk’,
To all genders for they feel broken whilst they walk,
As unknowing shadows are portraying ‘disgusted’ looks,
For they are not fitting enough for their ‘wanted books’.

And I’m growing worn and I’m getting torn,
‘Cause it’s like I should be embarrassed to have ever been born,
‘Cause I am judged no matter what I do,
‘Cause it’s as if a body is something you shouldn’t grow accustomed to,
‘Cause I am one with a different mind,
‘Cause it’s like my outer appearance tells you my stories inside,
But you do not know me,
And I’m not stuck like a ‘label’,
My clothes or my appearance do not define my own tales.

Copyright © Charlotte Wong | Year Posted 2017

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Boys Will Be Boys

Boys will be boys
that's what they said.
But to me, boys were drugs
and I'd wind up dead.

Nothing ever worked,
until I found you.
You were my hope for love,
The start of something new.

The horrible distance
It was our greatest threat.
sometimes it didn't matter,
you were my safety net.

Once or twice we perished,
not understanding our hearts.
But mind over matter,
we were never fully apart.

Were connected in ways
I never would've thought.
and I crazy about you,
I love you a lot.

So we'll continue on this path
until it hits an end.
And I'll be right beside you,
my best friend.

Copyright © Julia Clarius | Year Posted 2015

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I'll Be Fine

Just so you know, I’ll be fine. I don’t need the extra time. For what? To get over you? It’s already done. The day you walked out was the day that I won. My life began with the slamming of the door. But then you took it back, you always want more. But I won’t let you in. No, never again. Boys will be boys, but some boys become men. You promise that you’ll change, but I know it’s all pretend. You blame me for everything, but you did this to yourself. I told you I was leaving, but you refused to get help. I gave my everything for years, but got nothing in return. But it will never happen again, you live and you learn. I’m happy with my decision, I finally feel free. I didn’t notice until you left that you’ve been suffocating me. Now for the first time in years, I can finally breathe. So please, stop begging. Nothing you do can change my mind. It’s done. It’s final. I’m not coming back this time.

Copyright © Broken Survivor | Year Posted 2015

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Buckle up your Heart

Baby baby baby you are sugar sweet
You think some lovin will make you complete
You believe all those shows on romance
Baby buckle up your heart for you don't stand a chance

Love is a bumpy ride because it takes two
For some love is just for fun and never true
Boys will be boys and men are men
They say anything for love to pleasure them

You may feel it's real but they be on their way
You fell in love but to them it was only play
Love has it's ups but it will leave you down
Don't turn that sweet smile into a frown

Buckle up your heart love is a bumpy ride
Paradise beautiful has an other side
Understand with love you'll kiss some frogs
So with your love be stingy not a hog

Buckle up your heart so it won't break
Love is a bumpy ride there'll be mistakes
Before you jump in put on those brakes
Buckle up your heart it's okay to wait

Baby baby baby you are sugar sweet
Pride in yourself makes you complete
Love will be found in just living
It's not just taking it's in giving

Copyright © Fritz Purdum | Year Posted 2014

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.



They told her to drink bleach 
Or to jump off the roof of a building
And they pushed her into a ditch 
While she begged for them to stop
No she didn't 
No they're kidding 
Please tell me Amanda is ok

They told him they'd kill his dog 
And make everyday of high school hell
Then they drenched him with maple syrup
And smashed an egg onto his head 
No he didn't 
No they're kidding 
Please tell me Matthew is ok

They called her ugly and troll-like 
And to go hang herself ‘cause nobody cares
Then they locked her in the closet
And left her there begging for light 
No she didn't 
No they're kidding 
Please tell me Jessie is ok

They were vicious with their words
And attacked her at every turn 
She went from a straight-A student 
To someone who feared being in school
No she didn't 
No they're kidding 
Please tell me Becca is ok 

And yet they say it's just words 
And yet boys will be boys 
And yet they say you need thicker skin
And yet girls will be girls 

How it would be nice 
To chastise masculinity 
And make everybody see 
That boys too can shed tears 

How it would be nice 
To marginalize femininity 
And make everybody see 
That girls too can be cruel

Digital bulldozers 
How they love to steamroll the weak
I get it now
For it all makes sense 
You just wanted to fit in 
So you join in with the abuse 
You point the finger and laugh
And enjoy calling them faggots
Or a *****or a pornstar 
Or every other dirty word

Just because what?
Because they wear glasses?
Because they have height?
Because they have Aspergers?
Because they've gained weight?
Because they've crossdressed?
Because they believe in something?

Go ahead say it 
And I'll tell you this 
That deep down 
Behind the machismo 
You're a small child in the closet 
Screaming to get out 
Or to hide away in your disdain 
Because you know how it feels 
To be different 
How you've broken your mirrors 
And eaten up the glass 
Because you are a pitiful mess
Gulping back down 
All of your self-loathing 

We're all the same 
So why treat us like property?
This isn't the time of the slave trade
You know that better than 
To brutally harass a stronger soul
It takes a real man or a real woman 
To walk away from a bully 
And it takes a real man or a real woman 
To speak up for your fellow brethren 

And what if you don't?
Don't forget Phoebe Prince
And what if you're scared?
Don't forget Daniel Briggs
And what if you fail?
Don't forget Kristina or Tyler or Jeffrey

They all couldn't take it 
So they replaced their hands with guns 
Or twine or rope or belts or bleach
And they hoped for the sharp hot pain to stop
And their cruel words and their horrid onslaught
To stop just stop and to stop just stop 
Like an accomplice to a murderer
Is what a bystander is for a bully 
You're just as guilty if you don't say anything 
Speak up or don't speak
Either way you'll suffer a consequence
Will the victim live or will the victim die?
That all depends on what you say 
Don't let Death store another one

Rest in peace Amanda Todd
Rest in peace Matthew Epling
Rest in peace Jessica Logan 
Rest in peace Rebecca Sedwick

My beautiful people 
Yes you with the glasses 
My beautiful people 
Yes you with the weight gain
My beautiful people 
Yes you who’s transgender 
My beautiful people
Yes you with pretty scars 
My beautiful people 
Yes you who survived it 

Don't break and don't let them take you 
Speak yes speak yes speak 
Before they kill another beautiful mind 
Don't take and don't break another one 
You stop just stop just stop
Before you realized you killed another one 


Copyright © Isabel San Martin | Year Posted 2017

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Boys will be boys

You are so full of excitement,
That you at times can not contain it.
You enjoy playing with your toys,
And I say "Boys will be Boys."
I know nothing seems easy for you,
Just remember to never be blue.
For I will always be there, it's true,
To show you that I care for you.

Copyright © Jessica Wilson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Boys Will Be Boys Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Trump Against Conservatives

What are some differences
between post-millennial Trumpism
and pre-millennial Republicanism?

I know...I know!
Republicans used to be fiscal conservatives
but now support a one trillion dollar deficit
per unaffordable health and safety care year,

Expanded deficit spending 
despite taking more from not so rich
so super-rich corporations and family dynasties
can invest less in public responsibilities
and conservational authorities.

What other differences do you see?

I know...I know!!!
Republicans used to be family moral conservatives
but now nominate candidates
who molest women and then brag about it
while employed through tax investor dollars
disproportionately extracted from lower-middle
and poor shackled families,
and candidates who may sexually assault young Southern girls
and expect their liberated from traditional family values voters
to hold their nose
and tax-share lack of status
and vote for more domestic and work-place sexual violence anyway.

Because a fetus
is presumed to become a heterosexual baby,
except when things work out wrong somehow,
but a *****
is just another predictable bad boy *****,
and some lives, born and unborn,
matter more than others.

That sounds a bit Boys Will Be Boys judgmental,
and maybe anti-Southern?
But, OK,
what else do you see
or hear
or smell, I suppose, possibly,
as Trumpism
antithetical to traditional Republican conservatism.

I know...maybe?

Doesn't healthy conservatism
require wealthy conservation of nutritional values,
and not so much toxic disvalues?

If so,
then isn't a real world conservative position
regarding climate pathology
and proactive health assurance
dwindling through MADness
pathologically degenerating economic
and ecological
and political
and sociological bad health trends?

Wouldn't traditional conservative positions favoring security
and defense of health and safety
disinvest away from ignoring growing chaotic climates?

To embrace restoring truly therapeutic traditions
of nutritionally resilient and multiculturally resonant
societies and species.

I believe you refer to Old School Conservation.
thou must not harvest grace
you did not plant and financially support with gratitude
for talents invested in you
by MotherEarth's past climates
of pertinently trusting compassion.

you respond to my Trumpism v Republicanism question
with questions
which in itself seems a conservative position
compared to denying questions 
of how best to conserve integrity
among a healthing society,

Voicing urgent concerns
about unmediated exploitation of punitive mendacity,
expecting conservatives
to continue voting
to liberate this piracy of healthy valuables
from relatively poor
toward triumphal rich
Pharisees of Secularizing Zealous Greed.

Do you think
that could have been
a Trumpian violin
Plutocratic Nero fiddled and twittered about?

And spoke too liberally
too libertine,
in his denial
of international health and climate care?

While hurricanes flooded Texas
and Florida
and Puerto Rico.
And while California,
and sometimes parts of Colorado
and Arizona
too often burned.

Is that the bedtime story
your fading from view grandchildren will read
about your conservatively intended vote
for their health and defensive climate safety?

Do Trumpians
become a non-party,
an Operatic Tragedy
without any conservative portfolio remainder?

According to the original Trumpian campaign,
this CEO promised to follow along 
toward conserving denial of facts
and expanding nihilism of whimsical foolishness
defined as whatever is not liberty
or freedom
or cooperative investment of any kind
in those who have not supported Trump Aristocracy products
and supremely super good job
real estate bought and sold-out services
for those better off
and their free for a quick grab trophy wives,

Who best stick to their expected denial of unfortunate facts business.
Follow Trumpian patriarchal lines and lies
of pathologically rich pedigree,
and not bother their pretty blond and blue-eyed heads
about conserving healthy
extending family climate values,
by easing off further over-investment 
in too-liberal disvalues
to invest in healthy climates for all God's Creations,

Conservationally speaking.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017