I never thought my mentality could be torn to such an extent.
Worse than the slaps
The shoves
the kicks
the punches

I went in for Joy
I had hope
never thought I could live a life so exhausted

Stress is the word of the day. Every day
But its so overdone
It goes beyond anxiety.
Fear
helplessness

Every cent I earn goes to the family we were supposed to be
creating
Now its all going to the family I wish I could be
deserting

How can I love her when I come home and
“You're a *******”
“Where were you all day?”
“You're a *******”

I'm a *******. I'm a ******* *******.
I'm gone to often, I don't dress nice, always on my phone
have to many **** friends
don't care enough
never clean
smell horrible
can't perform

don't love her enough

Tell me a way to show my love
Tell me
I want to know
because maybe it will get her to stop
maybe it will get her to
be who I told “I do”

It was all mental for a while
I thought when you broke it was like
in half
I didn't know there were
shatters
tears
splits

explosions

My identity was numb by the time she started physically
my friends and family believe the rumors
******* has addicted another husband
I don't have what it takes be a
“real man”

No hope, no reason, no soul
her life
her punching bag
her creativity

Don't tell me women can't physically abuse
they're not dumb
You get punched, slapped, kicked
so you grab her

see you in a year when you get out
she called in and there was marks on
her arms from your hands

now you're the guy who has no pride
I haven't had one for a while
If I did I would have been locked up
two years ago

But I also don't have a me
so its easier
It hurts yes
but I'm in more pain when I think about not being
able to see my boy

She is a man,in the blood stream,
gushing within her veins.
He acts her woman, willingly,
and he likes it every bit.
Together they create by chance,
a tumultuous ****** history,
never before seen, perhaps.
This subversion remains a secret,
with a meaning, on which
they never ever bothered.
A mighty cyclone, she transforms
that uproots structures monumental
if she really wants to trample everything.
He is a prankster wind,that love
billowing saplings; ripe rice as well.
Hovering on air, over land and water,
tumbling together, exploring depths,
they create mysterious wind patterns,
that add to the folk lore and myth.

I don't know
Who saw who first
It don't matter
much to me

I don't know
What song was playing
When I first laid eyes on you
But, I just knew I had to know you
Before the night was through

I remember very closely
What you wore
When we first met
The blouse, the jeans
The perfume
That's one thing I won't forget




Little things escape me
Details...not for me
I look at the big picture
And that's just what I see


Your favorite drink....don't ask me
Your favorite movie...not a chance
The details all escape me
They just leave me in a trance


I remember very closely
What you wore
When we first met
The blouse, the jeans
The perfume
That's one thing I won't forget

I know nothing of the small stuff
The details are out of mind
To me, they're not important
That's why I leave them all behind

I used to like you when you were dumb.
Then you smartened up and it pains me some.
You question almost everything I say.
You use these big words almost every day.
You really are making my brain cells hum.

You used to be **** when you talked.
You had this trampy twist in the way you walked.
You did everything I told you to do.
Now you want to try things that are new.
And at that, baby, I just have to balk.

I really do prefer the way you used to be.
You made sure to do things that pleased me.
Dinner was always right on time,
And serving leftovers was a crime.
Now meals are not the way they should be.

I used to be breadwinner around here.
That was one thing that was totally clear.
I gave you a weekly allowance to spend.
None of this going out for drinks with friends,
Now you have a job and sometimes you’re not here.

I think the cause of this is all this reading.
You think you’re getting smart is misleading.
You are getting a different attitude
And I think a lot of them are rude.
There are some basic truths you aren’t heeding.

So you should put the Bible on your list.
As a matter of fact, I really do insist.
It tells you I am the important one
And you are just a planet to my sun.
So it isn’t God’s will that you resist.

Brent Kincaid
4/24/2015

I imagine a man--
a strong, independent, pack leading figure
Who will always have the strength to carry his own family.
That on his wedding day he will carry his wife to bed
as he is expected to carry his children to theirs every night.

A man will be stern, and respected by those around him
every part of his being will be drawn to our attention.
He will have the heart of lion, the one bearing burdens, as he should
his shoulders will always stand firm, as the red woods have taught him well.

The voice of a man is deeper than the sounds of a bear,
being woken from hibernation.
His cave echos the triumphant's of experience,
as well as the wisdom's of manhood.

Truly a man is the best of his crafts
building treetop castles made of lumber and supplies
never needing instructions as he has it all inside
fixing all that he can fix, forever and always.

Emotionally, unknown--
his tempers sway, a brief signal in the sky, before it is wisped away.
Half grins yearning to resemble his wife and child
tightly holding those he loves in a lingering way--
unspoken is how it goes for a man.

"Pull down your shirt"
"Fix your top"
"That shirt is too low!"
"Get a longer skirt"
"You *will provoke an attack"
Sometimes
It sadden me to know
that the world is not
teaching some men how to
look at women with respect
and instead
society is telling women
to be conservative
so
men won't be
*Distracted (?)

He sculpted reality
Shifted melted metal
To shape a better world
The hand of man

She sculpted flesh
Growing cells
Pygmalion of the womb
Suckling and nurturing
A newborn

He made madness
Mimicking solar explosions
Destruction
Death

She gave birth
To generations
Yet veneration
Was given to the masculine
Man made god a male

The progeny turned upon
The progenitor
Male propagated pain
Female yielded the fruit of life
In all forms of adaptation

Though I reject gender division
In societies expectations
I would prefer a female god
Giving birth
To the damning male model
Condemning all those who live on
This beautifully evolved Earth

Because when I was 4, my mom told me that I could not like blue because it was a 'boy' colour.  
Because when I was 5, the kids at kindergarten made fun of me for my 'boy' hairstyle.
Because when I was 6, dad refused to buy me a toy car because it is a 'boy' toy. He got me a Barbie doll. 'Good for girls,' he said.
Because when I was 7, my teacher scolded my for my 'boy' handwriting.
Because when I was 8,after a bad fall, my mom lamented that I would never be able to wear a skirt, instead of asking if I was ok.
Because when I was 9 I watched as my relatives mocked my male cousin for cooking. "Leave it to the women" they said.
Because when I was 10, I was told that I ran like a girl. 'But I am a girl', I said. They laughed at my innocence.
Because when I was 11, I was warned my my mother that I would be too fat to be loved. As though his love had to be spread all over my fats.
Because when I was 12, puberty started and the acne set in. It was my mom's worst nightmare.
Because when I was 13, my mom reemphasised that I was too fat to be loved. I felt like ****.
Because when I was 14, I starved myself so that I would be beautiful. I did look like a 'proper girl', my parents agreed.
Because when I was 15, the stress of impending national exams got to me and my hair started to fall out. My mom prayed for my soul, and my scalp.
Because when I was 16, in the car 37 minutes ago. My mom scolded me for my acne scars, saying that I was too scarred to ever get a job, or a husband. Most importantly a husband.
Because gender roles affect us all, male or female. Stop labelling people.

Envy is not green but
something perhaps a little more sickening to me
than chartreuse and a spoiled ego.
Envy is when i see boys walking by,
looking down at myself again, i see my curves
and i hate them.

i don’t want them.
i want to look like the boys.

Envy is seeing other girls more androgynous
than i;
girls with broader shoulders
and with more angular faces.

why can’t I look like that?

i hear voices deeper than mine:
tenor, baritone—
and I shred my throat
day-by-day,
trying to come close to the pitch.

Envy is the aches in my body when changing
my posture from legs to shoulders;
from changing my stride
and preventing my hips from swaying.
i want to look like them.

seeing these people makes my insides feel
like they’re being twisted with a red-hot fork;
and it hurts, oh God, it hurts.
it hurts to know i will never look
like how i see myself.