Emasculated Poems

Illegitimate Child

I was born in absence—
not just of a father,
but of the myth of one.
Raised by silence,
I searched for manhood
in shadows and wounds.

My name is Oedipus rewritten—
not in fate,
but in affection never given.
My sister wears men like seasons,
because no one taught her
what protection felt like.

A home is soul-architecture:
a mother to nurture,
a father to protect.
Remove one—
the child wanders inward,
into crime, confusion, or ache.

Today, fathers are exiled—
emasculated by law,
their authority turned to shame.
And mothers are told:
“You can be both.”
But God was not a fool
to design a house
with two pillars,
not one.

Fatherless children often fall—
not from evil,
but from emptiness.
Society fractures
when the family fails.
No policy can replace
a father’s voice
or a child’s peace.

If this silence continues,
humanity won’t perish in war,
but in quiet homes
where no one knows
what love should feel like.

Rise of the Ripper

Through the streets of Whitechapel
 A monster roamed them all
 He left behind a history
Many to enthral
 But who knew the romance 
The lover behind this affray
 He may wield a knife but in fact
 Was Jack gay?
 A romantic, emasculated by a wife
 A sexual experience
Affected him for life
 Read about the romance
 The lover, murderer too
 It's all in my new book
 A paranormal tale for you
 If you want a good yarn 
My book is just a gripper
 It's out in November and it’s called Rise of the Ripper

Forgiven Again

Forgiven Again

                                                    ****


                                                   Human

                                           In absolute duress

                                       Frantically abandon Eden

                                  Plagued by a menacing darkness


                                 Apparition transform into Seraphim

                                Extinguishing flames of hopelessness

                                 Rejuvenate emasculated mortal skin


                                     Hearts atone then spirit rejoices

                                        As love descend from heaven

                                             A new advent arises

                                                      Forgiven

                                                         Again
 






Penned: 02/12/2010
             4:45 p.m.
             Aboard cruise liner, "Radiance of the Seas"
              Floating on an ocean--somewhere

Your Dead Horizon

Cold cloak chills
my aged bones it
belies
those crimson eyes
those smoldering orbs
those smoking windows
of despair

and yet
I draw closer
I capitulate
I accede
in the knowing
of what is
and what was
and what will
never be

with one touch I’m
asphyxiated
emasculated
entombed

my ashes
barely glancing
your frozen ground
your dead horizon
your nuclear dust
before they are
pulverized
obliterated
behind the echo
of your
terrifying laugh.


(click on the pic to preview my poetry book!)

Emasculated

hers was bigger
than mine so
she won

pinned
in seconds
while thumb

wrestling

I'M Bleeding

not like it's
that time
of the month

i'm a man
though
standing

emasculated
hesitatedly
needing and

wanting aren't
the same 
and yet

the same
thing ran
through

and through
my head as
i was 

throwing
away dull
razor blades

Where Are the Gallant Knights

Whither the true gentleman who holds the door open for a lady
  Whither the noble scout, escorting an elderly matron 'cross the street

Whither the friendly officer who greets me as I pass him on his beat
  Whither the shopkeeper who knows my name, who seeks my welfare
     
Whither chivalry?  Where has it fled?
  Where are the gallant knights in shining armor today?

The gentleman? --passed on, bidding farewell to a world where he has no place
  The noble scout? --become timid and weak, emasculated by equality's
    relentless drumbeat

The friendly officer? --grown mean and wary, cowed by violent lawlessness
  The shopkeeper? --relic of an age that is no more, replaced by a faceless
    superstore 

Chivalry? --buried in the annals of history
  beside gallant knights in shining armor
    languishing in cobweb-covered attics
      rusted helmets shuttered forever

Women

Women are mother's 
The bearers of life
Without women 
Men do not exist
They are not equal 
They are bye far and a way superior 
Any form of inequality 
Is perpetrated through insecurity 
Bye sad emasculated individuals 
Who are of little consequence 
If they fail to honor
The fact they are born
To a women mother

Small Concerns

New leader of the free world,
Riots both silent and raucous,
Flames spitting out from trashcans 
And barrel drums,
Demonizing the tearstained faces
Of children and mothers, men emasculated
By their failure to provide, 
Dreamers of fairy tales.
And it’s a lovely thought—
That things would be different with another elect.
Always greener, the grass,
Though before us lies a vast plain of sienna,
A box of matches,
Beyond us a whole universe, laughing (I should think)
The point we call Sun dwarfing us by more than a million to one,
Itself dwarfed by trillions of others.

Babysitting Bloody Goats

Babysitting bloody goats,


Babysitting bloody goats,
Baaaa baaaa twinkletoes has notes,
Trying to get some bloody sleep,
Sounds like a rabid rancid sheep,
 a lonesome goat, you know it,
wheres that bloody clive a sitting,
climbing screen doors, its not quiting,
Sue heard one on the ole tin roof,
twinkle toes tap tap 2 do it?
Blaurgggggght says the nanny goat,
Crazy bludger's tunes out of note,
Drops poor ole Johnson in it?
Ferret dog emasculated,
Banged and thumped and castigated,
Head butted by 2 nannies sure,
Doesn’t want it any more,
Sidestepping Ferret voted!
Waiting for ole Clive to come,
With the red van goats do hum,
Head butting ole screen door,
Blaurgh where are you clive, whaffor?
Goat chops for tweededum,
Cant eat your mates they hum,
Be quiet my moral core,
They won….Don Johnson

https://www.facebook.com/don.johnson.
79219/posts/10203114820445074?comment_
id=10203114886406723&offset=0&total_comments=7

Come In and Become

The man who made his meddle outta' sand,

came to my hand, 

and I kept on begging for a chant,

from god-
the angels,
or even the damned.

This locust creeped'
into that big house by the street,

into the cracks
that leaked out the meek,

caused my tree's their little leafs,
and my cats their skis,

I had no proof to see,
but it really happened to me...

That one day at the Peet's-
that one hour of peace,

the crease in the page had folded awesomely, 
at the perfect degree.

The sun sparkling,

my eye's dozily-
crosses into the rolling scheme,

and then I become the poetry,

lust gets forgotten,

power emasculated,

hours infatuated,

sourcrout steak being heated to the core,

girls go out the door,

begging in pours,

become seated on the porch,

sipping tea and eating dessert,

never having to flirt,

always having a turn,

oh yes-

come in and become the stress-

come into the best,

and then take home your vest.

When One Is Arrogant About God

The little man stepped just beyond
transcendence from his little world
and found divinity outside.  The huge surprise
was that he found no throne,  
no kindly spirit there, 
no lowering papa in the sky
but there was ecstasy in emptiness
he had not seen between the stars,
between the frenzied prayers of men
who sold their commentaries on belief.

What irony to note the hidden god
who sent him back without reward,
that humankind might lift the sword
and find it weak, inadequate, the symbol
of a stumbling gospel half believed,
half emasculated from the altars
censed in smoke.

But then to venture deep within at last,
makes to emerge
just the glimmer of a cosmic pride
that always turns away
until our tongues 
receive the simple sacrament
of love, and only then
our knees may serve 
as pedestals for truth.
                 ~

The Monster She Fears

She lives in a single dimensional world
But watches 3D in the theater
She decides that she will protect herself
The next time he tries to beat her

He feels inadequate in the outside world
Emasculated by the masses
So to help him feel more like a man
He beats her every time she passes

Her mother had left them long ago
His wife had had enough
Physically and mentally abusing his child
Makes him feel real tough

He didn't like the way she dressed that night
And was going to hit her with his belt
The handgun she had hid in her purse
Would change the hand that she was dealt

The orange jump suit that she now wears
And will for twenty years
Is worth the price that she has to pay
For putting an end to the monster she fears

Gilded Lady of the Night

Scented Nightingale sets sail
Foraging through every, well-forded dale
Primped, preened emasculated shell
Black crown renovated for sale
From seductive perch casts alluring spell
Easy catch your lucrative Grail
Burnished cloak gleaming 'neath the moon pale
Brightly adorned feathers flap and flail
Arched talons ready to caress and assail
Hoary head cocked; each passing suitor to hail
Chirping beak with flattering lines doth swell
Her prominent tail quivers at the sight of every, virile male
Innocent malingerer she'll stalk then trail
'Till clutching his beating heart and hearing his bleating wail

Winsome

Wake me not for here I slumbered
Intent to dream on days I have not numbered
Natural to the logic of sinister time
Shame it was, the way you meandered
Over my heart like callous pebbles. Slime
Me with frivolous perceptions, and I slandered,
Emasculated, forgive you still for being blind.

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