Model Men and Their Modern Myths

Here come the men who love their pride,
With “culture” on speed dial, their mothers beside them.
They want a wife who’ll light the lamp,
While they scroll through pages of virtual vamp.

They call themselves leaders, oh so wise,
But sex ed is a topic they just despise.
If you ask them about anatomy's flow,
They’ll stammer, then boast about paychecks to show.

Progressive now, they’ll have you believe,
Because daughters study, and daughters leave
The home to work—but don’t go too far,
Or they’ll pull you right back by some invisible bar.

They crave the respect, the honour, the fame,
Yet when faced with real talk, they’re quick to shame.
These "modern men" with their ancient views—
One foot in the past, and the other confused.

Oh, fools of entitlement, kings of the mud,
With egos so fragile, they’re bound to flood
At the slightest nudge of applied insight—
They’ll laugh, then pull you out of their sight.

So here’s to these men, these leaders so grand,
With “values” in one, and hypocrisy in hand.
Keep your titles, your pride, your precious show—
The world’s moving on, just thought you should know.

Comments

My Tips Get The Job Done

Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE works. You get high on your stupid WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach me about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my ladyfingers ...

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Call Your Wife... Call Your Mother...

Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

Cruising Alone

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