| |

Picture Credits:
A relentless journey -
Pursuit of Women.
Trekking across
the Desert of Wasted Years,
I’ve been on this exhausting expedition
for over half a century -
struggling in vain for
Recognition,
Acceptance,
Friendship,
Love.
Now, I am Weary.
I’ve grown Empty
and begun to Wither.
To please Women,
I have often diminished myself:
sublimated Desires;
sacrificed Needs;
surrendered Pride and
lain prone while I bared
the throat of my Soul
to the apathetic daggers of She-dom.
Just another phallus-wielding sacrifice
on the Alter of Womanhood.
I’ve searched in Desperation
and stark raving Futility,
most of my born days.
And it begs the obvious:
“Why the Quest?”
Why do we need Them so?
I ask it too (knowing the answer),
yet continue in my vain Endeavors.
I think it starts with Mommies.
Nothing hurts worse
than Mommy not liking us.
I mean, spankings hurt;
but it was always
the Rejection,
the Anger
the Disappointment
sometimes, even
the Dreaded Hatred
which hurt the deepest.
We’d do anything to return
to the Sanctuary -
to the Womb of Mommy’s
Good Graces…
And Ahhh! Redemption!
Restoration of LOVE.
How wonderful
to bask in the Nirvana of
“Mommy Likes Me Again”
This translates
and totally impacts
all future Male-Female relationships
in the Pursuit -
in fact, this characterizes The Chase.
Each time we are rebuked,
Guilty or Innocent,
there are those infantile flashbacks
to “Mommy’s Mad At Me
I’ve Been a Very Bad Boy”
and we’re instantaneously drowning -
floundering in waves of guilt,
becoming weaker,
less confident,
and (every time we go under) -
more sycophantic.
Yet, the sojourn continues.
In Pursuit of Women,
one must never underestimate
The Power.
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work from Poetry
|
|