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Boys will be Boys by seal, george
- Boys Will Be Boys - by Smile, Sunshine
Boys Will Be Boys by Orendorf, Brianna
Boys Will Be Boys by Smith, Tim
Boys Will Be Boys by Clarius, Julia
Boys Will Be Boys by Haldon, Owen
Boys will be boys by Wilson, Jessica

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The Best Boys Will Be Boys Poems

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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

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- 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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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Rockin' Around The Neighborhood

We have a teenaged boy, living in our neighborhood...
Who is causing quite a stir, yes sir!... he's quite misunderstood
With the residents up and down this quiet street
Some are fuming mad, some who's anger may be more discreet
Coming from his garage, questionable music is his newest occupation
Practicing drums, now that all the kids are on vacation 
The pounding boom boom boom, while buddies play guitars
Windows shake rattle and roll, with the beat we can hear near and far
Like a train coming fast around the bend, 
Some complain that this attempt at Heavy Metal is not their friend
But to me it, this delicious,  incredible noise should be enjoyed
Instead of into trouble,  they find some fun to fill the void......
No Heavy Metal fan am I....just lots of noise....
But I do realize.....dear neighbors.... that boys will be boys...

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

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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

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A Roll in the Hay

Try to be different.
Take the plunge. 
Dare to live for today.
Be your own boss,
be true to your school,
and, charge for a roll in the hay.

Eat, drink and do Mary.
Boys will be boys they say.
But, Men and the boys
have different priced toys,
Some men even pay for the hay...


Copyright © janie bailey | Year Posted 2005

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The Affair

An affair is like the jolt received when you touch an electric wire.

It slams you with its energy, and makes of you a liar.

It fills your mind with hopes, and dreams, and makes you think so new.

It steps upon the petals of love while you ponder what to do.

Some may take that leap of faith, and charge blindly it’s forbidden gate.

Assuming they, a bright new day, they find foundations formed in hate.

The pages turn, and soon you learn the story is almost the same.

But never quite, what you held last night, for it is built on shame.

“Why didn’t you call, you don’t care at all?” the fuel of former decit.

The curving arc, of your heart so dark, tells of hopes yet not complete.

With weight so great, stumbling steps you take, as strewn paths you halting hike.

It is not they, who fail your day, for in truth you are all that you don’t like.

That one, this one, those yet to be, for surely you must continue to try.

Oh set me free, make me happy, while in the shadows they sofly cry.

Rushing, in your sadness, for that soulmate you think may set you free.

The chains are yours, and their lock secures that which shall never be.

Realize the folly, as peoples lives you volley, others joy be not your toys.

Society, so sage you see, condemns, oh boys, will be boys. 

The end so dear, with your life not clear, it’s pieces shattered by the lies.

Their trust, and dreams, sundered by your schemes, eternity echoes their endless cries.

No, it was not someone else’s chore to give you more, and fulfill all that you do seek.

It was not your job, others to rob, but into your own heart you should peek.

The oath you heard, and you gave your word.

Can it’s meaning be so small?

Yes, your word, and the others heard, your claim of what you be.

A lie spoke light, doesn’t make it right, you’re not what you seem, you see.

If your word be not as good, as it really should.

Then I fear that tells the tale, in the world of good, and evil, the test you did just fail.

Copyright © Gregory Cox | Year Posted 2010

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When you liked a boy 
he showed he liked you too 
When he pulled your hair 
and stuck it all in glue.

At least, that's what mother said, 
"Boys will be boys," she'd say. 
He's definitely got a crush on you 
if he's mean to you every day. 
When a boy likes you too, 
he'll tell everyone that you're weird. 
You'll sit in the bathroom crying 
with all of your makeup smeared.

At least, that's what father said, 
"Boys will say crazy stuff. 
It just means he's taken a liking 
and thinks you're really tough." 
When a boy thinks you're pretty, 
he'll punch you until you're not. 
Then kiss the rising bruises 
like you had never fought.

At least, that's what the doctor said, 
"His mind's not in the right. 
He'll like you with this medicine 
and soon you'll never fight." 
When a man wants to marry you, 
he'll force a child into your womb. 
Then every night he'll want to kill you 
and threaten to do it soon.

At least, that's what you like to say 
when the pain pills don't take the pain. 
"Boys will be boys," you whisper. 
And then the next night, do the same. 
When a man really loves you, 
he won't show up when you're due. 
He'll give you a beautiful daughter 
and then just disappear from view.

At least, that's what people tell you 
when you're raising her on your own. 
Every night singing lullabies, 
then sleeping by the phone. 
When a boy really likes her 
and she likes him too, 
He'll trip and hit your princess, 
and you'll laugh like you never knew.

Knew that boys who like you 
won't abuse you like their toys. 
But still, you find yourself saying, 
"Boys will just be boys."

Copyright © Autumn Bell | Year Posted 2016