Tuesday, November 01, 2005

 

Man

Twenty-first century man
I used to hate youI used to despise youI didn’t want to kill youI wanted to keep you alive to torture you
Then, I imagined what it would be like to be youNo, you are not limited in some capacitiesTruly you are boundless.
Malehood is a freak accidentA different recipe and you would have been part of the beautiful sexRaw deal you got, but it’s all yours
Though you may feel as innocent and inexperienced as a fairy tale princessAll expect you to be seven-foot tallSlender and muscular at onceSensitive and strongAggressive and nurturingBrave and fearlessBorn the perfect lover, you get no teacher
No less, no more than you, fairy tale princess everywhere thrive and so can you
Truly, it is a hard thing to be a man on this earth this century

 

Woman

Twenty-first century woman
How they have lied to you?Tell me little one.You alone deserve to be loved.You alone deserve to be cherished.
Have they told you to be a good girl?Have they told you to be virtuous?Have they told you to be curious?
And, they also told you to waste away studyingAnd please, please, be perfect, daughter, mother, C.E.O. and wife All rolled up into your perfectly organized calendar!
And, mercy, you did do it.You drove little girls to ballet classes And little boys to karate classesYou studied through the night for the examsYou nuked some good food and stroked male egos everywhereAnd you did make the company’s picnic.
They have you so busy with this perfection agenda,Even your diet is so perfectly healthy, you might indeed live to be ninety And reflect what a raw deal that was
Will you then moan over all your effortAnd long for the days in your primitive pastWhen it was easier to be a woman and so much simpler
Who are you kidding?It was always roughThen and now, know what the real game isThis way, you can play your game.
You can choose to love your children, though you may die alone in a nursing homeYou can choose to nurture your husband, though he may leave you for a younger oneYou can choose to nurture your career, though it may leave a bitter taste in your mouthYou can choose to be a good daughter, know you may loose yourself
Let it be your choiceThey have all broken the pact, they now want you to raise the kids, earn the bread,Be whore and wife at onceFor all this backbreaking work, they pay you with men of strawRewards of dust.There is no pact
Make your choicePlay your own gameThen you may have that mysterious smile, old women all over the world use to tease.

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