You want to motivate a Man?
Give him a beautiful woman and he'll go the extra mile to make sure she's happy
Even when he has no will to carry on, the thought of her hair swaying back and forth and the gleam of her eyes shining back at him will suddenly give him the urge
To move forward
Man's World is a myth
Women have mental control on us when we're deep in the potion
It only makes sense
Why would we be unchanged by something so beautiful?
God knew what he was doing when he created Man and Woman
I'd rather have her smile on my mind all the time
Than the repugnant trash that's going on in the world
Women give life, they give hope in life
They most importantly- keep A man from losing himself and keep the Human race alive

She's keeping my sanity alive.

She feels like play money
But she's just as important as the universe itself
She rocks my world like nobody else
I'm always finding ways to improve her mood and mindset
She's fully capable of being the best
And that's what she deserves
There's no reason for her to feel worthless
My mission is to get her to see
What I see

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;  
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:  
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek).

How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,  
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;  
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;  
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;  
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).

Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;  
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;  
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,  
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).

Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:  
I’m martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.  
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:  
(I measure time by how a body sways).

If you want breakfast in bed, sleep in the kitchen!