Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
When his Gillette slices the Cake you give
And your Ribbon shows what a Prune he was
It's time to kick his Sorry *** and Live
Then realise he is below your Class
The School Council has met; and Verdict's sent
To advise the Nerds which Athletes are bane
But if you give an Artist a worth-time's spent
He will give the Cherriest Mood insane
Try to open your Doors, dear Fruitful One
For once, know that Other Hearts do exist
If you can sing where the Hill's Grass grow some
Then you know which Plate is worthy to fix.
Now in this Picnic my Noodles grow full
From this Prune-Cake made and sliced from his Soul.
He cannot be a man,
until he has something to lose.

A boy must defend something,
in order to become a man.
BJ Donovan May 4
A young man stands on the edge of manhood.
   Body is hairy and sweaty and strong but mind
   not quite done with boyhood. The edge is sharp.
   He walks that thin line 'til one day he jumps.

   Mother's milk bitter and father's love a prison
   he walks his own path and wroughts his sorrows
   and makes his bed and chooses mates and lives
   a clumsy freedom flying awkward from the nest.

   When he's hurt enough he stands tall and waves
   the banner of manhood and carries it proud and
   marries a love and buys a house and fills it with
   kids and dogs and provides. At 3am he's wide awake.
Manhood is a myth. We're never men, just boys playing at being men. We're not strong warriors. We're victims of peer pressure. We're just afraid not to stare death in the eye and die.
The Will-of-Strength, firm and subtle at Peak
Sought to follow his Elder and charge his Day
With Weight-Lifts and Fork-Bells conquer Relief
Took a Sling from his Semi; Shot the Green Elf
Who flew around the House and tampered his Rage
To learn such Programmes like Responses and Growth
But Confident as he was to draft his Age
Shot the Green Elf again; His Candles grew Old
The Candles! Left there on a Muddy-Cream-Cake
Waiting to be puffed by a Cold, Moral Bite
Till the Drogbas arrived and brought their own Bake
Then the Party resumed; Screams sparked in Delight.
And the Green Elf, sleeping, spoke in the End:
"Manhood be your Goal; First make me your Friend."
#will_daley
I was born into glory, so young and so strong.
Never imaging that I could ever do any wrong.
I basked in daylight and loved to explore,
Testing my body past the point it could endure.

I was surrounded by friends and family wherever I went,
Each night I collapsed in bed and lay peacefully spent.
I never thought about change, real hardship, or loss.
I truly believed I'd forever be a king and my own boss.

But as I grew older time opened my little eyes,
and I was forced to confront heart wrenching goodbyes.
The family I knew and loved so much began to fall apart,
and I was forced to witness my own mothers broken heart.

The invincible boy slowly began to hide and recede,
Only poking his head out when it was necessary to feed.
The boy suppressed the pain and the hurt that he felt,
Refusing at all costs to accept the hand he was dealt.

A shift within him slowly began to start now,
And he was too caught up to stop and only realize how.
The family and friends became no more than ghosts,
And the bright eyes closed as his life began to coast.
As the boy grew he knew he was no longer a child,
The atmosphere at home went from morbid to mild.
The boys family quickly began to heal and reunite,
And he began to lose his desire to disappear into the night.

His families happiness was contagious and started to take over.
The boy was losing his reasons to keep his emotions under cover,
Some say he outgrew the anger and fear that he clung to,
But the truth is he was over always feeling down and blue.

The boy began to search for ways to be cleansed and born anew.
But what he found was a miracle that he knew to be true.
He poured himself into growing and learning,
his every action now reflecting this desperate sense of yearning.

The boy learned of new people and far away places.
He sought out his old fears and erased their disturbing faces.
Self-care and love seemed began to start rushing right back.
And as the boy grew he felt his life was finally getting on track.

He was finally happy and content once more,
Blissfully unaware of the changes that life had in store.
Unaware that his growth and strength was soon to be tested,
The peace he knew was now over and he was well rested.
A man is a man
Is a man
He stands tall
With strong shoes
And blue jeans
And red wings
He does not strut
But
He owns the block
With his talk and walk

A man is a man
He understands
To be gruff is to be loved
To be aloof is to be good
Muscles to waste away
And away
And away
And

A man
Broke the rule
A man
Choked me through
Pulled me too close
Transparent as ghosts
An unyielding lust

To the horrors of man
Stare into fear
Such horrid leer

But please
Don't
Hurt
Me
So
I
Let
This
Man
Take and steal and scare and sing
Or better yet his radio sang

Such a long quiet sorrowful manly drive
For those who wish to thrive

Be a man?
No
Take a stand

For a man is a man is a man is
A
Man

Man
You broke my life
Left me as bile
But I'm still alive
With vision for miles
I see it clearly now
I see that a man is a man is a man
I understand
You're sad
I’ve been questioning what it is to be manly vs what it is to be human vs what it is to even be alive. A man isn't measured by the power of his centerpiece, if you will. A man is measured by his ability to respect boundaries and not force himself, be it emotionally or physically, upon others. That right there is a man. Manhood is respect.
Don Bouchard Jun 13
This, the generation
Of the Trampling Bull,
The trodding of the Crop,
The headlong raging run,
With never any stop.

Having pulled the stakes,
Dragging tethers;
Pawing unchecked,
Throwing clods above his withers;

Fence posts falling,
The corners cave.

Town boys chase him
With sticks,
Unable to check or to drive
His rampant run,
O'er suffering fields.

Where are the men
Who'll come to force him,
Bellowing,
Back into civility?

Where are the men?
Make of it what you will. I woke at 2:00 with this vivid dream....
Years had gone by since the boys eyes were open,
All around him his life lay useless and broken.
He clung to distractions and hated the silence when it came near.
The boys absence had suddenly descended into utter fear.

Wherever he went the boy couldn't escape the terror he felt,
And things that never bothered him now made him stop and melt.
The confusion that followed the fear he felt began to enrage him.
Liquid hatred started to quickly fill his tiny cup to the rim.

He took his anger out on himself knowing everyone was in enough pain.
The only times he felt normal was when he walked alone through the rain.
The boy forgot how to take care and love himself truly,
Though he acted and carried himself like he desired this cruelty.

Anger became his main defense mechanism and shield,
Alone and broken he found his only solace in desolate fields.
Sorrow became his trusty companion and loyal friend.
Letting tears fall quietly was the only message he'd ever send.

No one seemed to realize the pain the boy was in anymore.
Spending any time with him just felt like a chore.
The boy felt like he was getting away with ****** these days.
Not realizing he was the only victim here in oh so many ways.
I sit by the window
In absent mindedness
Speaker of the so-called
grey crested emotions.
No more wine?
No more dead birds?
as happy as the outer space
as poor as my manhood.

I sit by the window
and
I touch you in the night
Like the hero of your dream
Prosecuted and paralyzed
by the hallowed love
I touch you cold,
tell me,
how close is this to a lipless grin? .

- Samar Charulingah Godfrey
Change came steadily but the boy was stronger and now a young man.
He flowed with each obstacle and kept his eyes firmly on his plan.
Never again would he be as weak as he was once before,
The young man was stronger now even down to his core.

He was moving with the hits that life threw at him now,
Until at last one hit him so hard he went down as hard as a plow.
Though he had friends that helped him get back up,
His problems started to overflow from his once empty cup.

Every hit he took broke off pieces of his very own being,
It felt like he was losing all the beauty he was just finally seeing.
The anger that the young man thought was gone reared it's head,
Bringing with it all the old pain within him back from the dead.

All the training and wisdom he fought so hard to learn,
Was tossed into a pit that was just waiting for him to burn.
The only thing remaining among the ashes was the familiar fear,
Emptiness filled every hole within him leaving a trace of one single tear.

The young man was starting to break once more,
He began hiding behind his once solid and stable inner core.
He spoke meaningless words to distract the prying but caring eyes,
Praying that no one would ever hear his agonizing cries.
Austin Sessoms May 2012
here's to a package of
Marlboro Reds
in the hands of
someone other than
the Marlboro Man
standing in
for those slack-jawed outlaws
my heroes now lack jaws
tongues
lungs

I swear it's been too long
since I inhaled manhood
The Great Darrell Winfield
rolled
packed
and filtered
into the only thing I know
that makes a man a man
the essence of
cowboy boots and farmer's tan
in every drag

see, I inhale my heroes
all the dusty red-necked
cowboys
Darrell Winfield
and my dad
men whose lives
went up in smoke
to coat my throat
in my own self-righteousness
I'm frightened this
is all that I'll have left
of him
lung cancer
and the lingering stench
of cigarettes

he always smelled
of cigarettes

he'd pull me into these
firm embraces
he held so long
that he'd suffocate me
in tacky business
and cigarette smoke
masked only
faintly
by a poor man's
cologne
still I breathed him in
until I'd start to choke
it was too much man to handle

my grandpa told me
“smoking doesn't send you
straight to Hell,
but it sure does make you smell
like you've already been there”
he was
a grown man
cursing
crying
lying
dying by himself
trying to drown out the inferno
with a case of beer
but sobriety finds you sometime
and I'd rather suffocate in cigarettes
than lose him altogether

and even if he smells like Hell
at least that means he made it back
Peter Gareth Apr 23
My father taught me how to be a man:
"Male is the strong gender"
"Boys and girls can't be friends"
And "feminists are crazy hairy chicks
Solving their daddy issues
By fighting over an empty cause"

Still, my heart screamed rebellion
How can male be the strong gender
When mom is the strongest person I know?
How can't boys and girls be friends
When my deepest connections are with them?
And how can feminism be an empty cause
When women are beaten, ***** and decreased everyday?

He couldn't bend my spirit
Nevertheless, I've learned so much
With all of his wrong examples of manhood
Which helped me to be twice the man he ever was
And yet not even half as brave as those insane ladies
Standing their ground and clamoring their rights
Lovely Lady Lia Aug 2018
I need the best quality **** on the market, brand new
and in good condition.
The question is, “What is their *** worth?” If a man values his manhood, it would be high demand. In other words, he cares about who he shares himself with.
Lovely Lady Lia Aug 2018
You are a cowardly lion who purrs and hide, unlike the other kingly beasts who roars with a sense of pride and leadership.
Tarot inspired.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2018
“leave at your own chosen speed”

always,
Dylan inserts a phrase that haunts,
indestructible permafrost,
played in slow and ever slower reverb all life long,
for it’s intuitive and you recognize it too well
as the best companion to the sour ending of another love affair

(but! this one differs; called love yourself)

the sad of a dying love, remembering the steady drift away,
capped by a casual remark that doesn’t sting but
cuts a Y on your chest, a lover’s coroner courtesy,
the bad humours permitted to at long last healthy escape

you’re staggered but say nothing for
speed
is a changeable elf, a mischievous devil,
requiring constant monitoring cause you moving,
but the speed limit alway a reflection of the road you’re on

speed is a tag along to show the overall fit still works,
though now far from the obvious and familiar
and the inspiration modifies,
so you retrofit untill the parts are incapable of
bending to new demands, contours unfamiliar, old plans no good

“leave at your own chosen speed”

for I am leaving you as I leave myself,
beaches erode,  lighthouses corrode, the salt cannot be refused,
the earth demands your return as the lease is deemed
non-renewable and the space where the date shall be inserted,
is parcel of the contract and though blank, certain to be fulfilled

the body erodes, the ***** parts corrode,
and this season of the new year^ comes with the usual disclaimer
recited on the tenth day from today

‘who will live, who will die,’^^

taught to you as a young-in, a child who can comprehend
even before manhood arrives, comprehend that life ends,
all good things and it ain’t no use, born compromised, but
“don’t think twice, it’s alright”

the slate you have written overdue for a prudent clean wet erasure,
so you begin to leave at your own chosen speed,
which is kind of nice, even cool, organizing your papers,
write with contented softness that so long eluded,
now come easy heady peasy

after a life of reciting poetry, good bad and always too long,
the pressure is on and off, side by side, even a dimming bulb
sheds some light, revealing what yet needs revealing


that Day of Atonement annual visitor,^^^ he/she of impish humors,
makes Pandora play a new station,
‘dimming of the day,’
reminder that it gave you a piece of an unowned heart to hold,
leased temporarily but the temp is roaring,
who, boo hoo, for you?

life and love is all about leaving,
the pen in penitent gone dry, no refills in this new world,
wish that **** rooster would stop crowing at
the break of sundown,^^^^  when I'll be gone
I'll be travelling on, for when the new day begins,
that’s my own signature personal marker,
the sundown poet
------------------------------------------------------------­-------



~the first day of the new year on the Jewish calendar
  Mon, 10 September 2018 =  1st of Tishrei, 5779

  Rosh Hashana 5779
^ see https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur

^^ see poem  https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1833523/for-leonard-cohen-who-by-fire/

^^^ see poem https://hellopoetry.com/poem/462537/how-i-observed-the-day-of-atonement/

^^^^ jewish law says the day begins at sunset till the next sundown
" The year was 1968. My journey in life took me
to a place so unfamiliar to me. Fort Ord Army Base.
There is where i began my Manhood. (Boot Camp)
Week after week of drills that brought sweat out
of me that i never knew existed.
This was in Northern California. Land of American beauty.
Yet i was in Hell. All we thought at that time was, can we make it through?
Then beyond any notice to us, we were all called out for a roll
call.. The Commanding Officer awarded us with a weekend pass.
The cheer was so loud i thought i was in a Football stadium.
We were dismissed, and packed to see what "I Once Saw."
First stop. A town called Carmel. Cobblestone streets, trees with
leaves of color as if they were born out of a Kaleidoscope.
It was though i was living in a Charles Dickens novel.
I walked through stores that held no dust. Nothing out of place, they
had a Heavenly touch.
When i stopped for a bite to eat.
Even that was an unforgettable experience.
The food tasted much better. I didn't want to leave my seat.
What captured me the most as i strolled through these impressive
streets of Carmel, was a view in where i stood overlooking the Pacific
Ocean.
"BIG SUR". I almost fainted. A sight so beautiful to my eyes i wondered
Why? Why do so many people leave this great land of ours to go on
vacations elsewhere?
To be standing on a cliff looking at the raging ocean waves pounding
the walls of these mighty rocks.
"As I Once Saw" I yearn for more.
A sight that comes to me in so many of my nights.
Branded in my mind for the rest of my life."
To all my Poet Friends. Next vacation, try Northern Cally.
You must visit Carmel, and Big Sur, if you hadn't already.
God Bless,
Michael....
Kevin Hayes Nov 2018
From the foundations of manhood
I send you this letter.

Right now might seem the worse
But the end will be better.

I’ve longed for someone  
While we’ve been together

I’d try to do both
But I’m not that clever

And I know I said never again

******* with randoms
A friend of a friend

Lies on top lies
That **** never ends

But atleast this time
I told the truth like a man.
Azurel Mata Sep 2018
Here I stood with ***** crystals beneath my feet and waited for the sky to turn golden.
Here I laughed into the echoing tunnel under my home as wet earth dripped on my skin.
Here I learned about parenthood among feathers and little eggs and ungodly morning crows.
Here I gloated about the manhood which sprouted from under my arms and in my mischievous thoughts.
Here I waited till dark to meet him in secret all the while dreading the sound of tires on gravel.
Here I buzzed with excitement as the boys had their lazy Sunday afternoon.
Here his freckles came close to mine as he softly said "you're so beautiful" with Bruno Mars playing in the background.
Here I said I would never grow up.
Here I comforted her with my pain because I had to be brave.
Here I forgot that being called "muddy children who act like savages " was considered an insult.
Here I cried into the stars for reasons I didn't understand.
Here I walked on hands and feet with happy little scratches and silent giggles.
Here only the sound of our beating hearts and delicate pride could be heard as I held him close.
Here I sang at the top of my favorite tree and waited for the words to hurt him as much as he hurt me.
Here the glow of a flashlight illuminated our tent as I asked her if she liked me like that.
Here a little piece of me was left sitting on a branch waiting to capture the next magical heart.
Here I wrote "I love you" on a mango leaf only to realize that he spelled love differently.
Here I sat beneath bright green trees and pondered my not-so-complicated life.
Here my words came out blurry and my stomach swayed like a sail boat out on a windy morning.
Here my hands went numb as I raced to the end of his life.
Here I visit through pictures and messy journals to remember the little things that are now so so big.
Here I left muddy footprints now covered with grass, but here they will stay.
Little poem about my childhood life on a farm.
Dave Legalisa Oct 2018
the only time he
told you he loved you
was when he pressed
his mauve lips to yours
and your tongue
got twisted inside
tasting the thick honey
he sipped between your thighs;

when his claws dug
deeper and deeper
into your muffled skin
making your body mottled
with purple patches and scratches
with rosy blood that hurt
so lovely like thorns of roses;

when his hands crawled
around your body and
his fingertips touched
the parts men should not touch;

when he
finally entered inside you,
penetrating the orifice
every man dreams of getting in;

when he kissed parts
other than your lips
licking your neck
tasting the sugar and caramel
that was your sweat;

when he clenched your belly,
squished it like what he did
to your breast
and to your horror
it felt like a knot
tightening the flesh.

it was when
the wails from your throat
were the words you
could only speak.
the groans and moans
served as phrases
when you couldn't spew well
the correct formula
to whisper the
sensation you felt.

the only way you could
tell him you loved him too
was him to work rough
but gentle,
to go harder and deeper
while his tongue
kept searching yours,
while your bodies clung
chest to chest and skin to skin
dipped above the soft foam
inside that chamber,
and
he did.

finally,
straining your legs apart-
only wider this time-
pushing strong forces against
the nest between your thighs,
collapsing his body,
singing moans and triumphs
as if he
just held the haven,
he whispered something drone
you also tasted
on his saliva,
"it's done" he said
and,
in that moment
when he stopped driving
and he pulled
his manhood stick back
from your nest,
you knew,
it only
was your body
that he wanted.
Shaleek Mar 2
Look at me and glance into my eyes. Feel the power from the windows of my soul. Glare into the beaming light of my mind. Relax BUT WAIT I want full control. The conversation begins my attraction the stimulation of total interaction. Lay it on me nice and slow let the words soothe you with the warmest touch and let your mind flow. So now I begin to think because HELL its only my thoughts right or is it the emotion deep within my thoughts that DRIVE YOU CRAZY. Welcome to my mind a mind of intellect, a mind of deep passion, a mind of growth, but more a mind of mental action. I wanna lick you from your head to your toes. I wanna show your body what I’ve been craving for. I wanna lick those ***** lips like I never ate your ***** in my face before. I wanna glide my tongue across that **** until you begin to *** all in my mouth while I’m ******* on that your pleasure point. I want to gently caress your back with the slightest touch of my tongue. Kissing you from your neck to your private places while your back begins to arch with the pressure of my manhood inserting your throbbing treasure chest. I wanna change of the pattern of your breathing. Gently stroking while our bodies and minds connect in the most desirable physical form. Making love like the sun meeting the horizon. Ever flowing like the rivers and streams as I hit that spot that makes you yearn for more. CREAM! More power with a deeper attitude. Fire and desire, love making until the night is day baby I want to give you something that’s gone change ya entire life. Pleasure and pain I can just hear it now but wait, can’t forget about that gentle kiss that makes it even better. Words unspoken but through physical form let it be felt. I love you with passion ever so smoothly and intimately. Like that mental touch that glides down your spine to the gentle kiss from your lips to mine. Baby I wanna make love to you til the sun come up but now SNAP! ......... Dam it’s only just my thoughts.
          
Now what did you say?
So picture you are talking to someone face to face. Picture this person as the one that you are most attracted to but you know you can’t have. Now you both are in a conversation but you hear your voice inside your head louder then the words that they are speaking.
Bj May 20
Carnal desire was the demon,
and this demon dwelled deep within
the priest’s heart,
torturing him mercilessly.

The priest’s sacred vows screamed
for vengeance.
They demanded the right
to bring this demon to the light.

Surely no sin is greater than child abuse.

The priest delved deep within,
to find a suitable way
to make the demon run to god,
and to be forgiven.

The priest reached deep down,
inside his holy robes,
searching for the essence
of his own manhood.

And then with the other hand,
he selected a sharp knife.

In a torrent of ruby red blood,
the demon made good his escape....
duncanwrite Aug 2018
I cannot stand it, it weakens my core, it stifles my breath

The thought of him, forcing himself inside you

Making you whimper, unutterable sounds

Your unconditional complicity a gift, a given

Your abandon knowing no bounds

My manhood shriven

While I have dropped off the edge of your world

Your shapely limbs around him furled

And he, firmer, faster, harder, smarter, younger

Scoops up your jewels and riches with ardent hands

And hungry tongues, to burst your lungs

And all you can eats from your smouldering smorgasbord

And I don’t know him, nor where he lives

But I know he lives

And dies, and dies again in your scented garden….
Next page