Ode to the Desert Ego

I've seen how the stereotypical male mindset has shifted over time, but still, so many carry the same ego-driven attitudes, disguised in new forms. It’s as if nothing has changed, just the packaging. I can't help but question—when will this outdated thinking finally fade?

Behold the Desert Ego of old,
With pride so grand, with heart so cold,
Who laughs at hearts and eyes that weep—
As if feeling’s a weakness, for those too deep.

He points his finger, judges with glee,
"How dare you love? How weak you be!"
Yet when we point to his little sins,
He stammers, “I’m human—just where to begin?”

Oh yes, the righteous, who preach and pray,
Then sign deals with devils to get their way—
With hands clasped tight, they're holy on display,
But slip into shadows when it suits their way.

Ambition! He’s got it, can’t you see?
A drive so fierce, it’ll set him free!
But spare us, please, your noble bribe,
When all you chase is your name’s own vibe.

He laughs at dreamers breaking molds,
Dismisses the young who won’t be told—
Yet clings to his fame like moths to flame,
Desperate to carve out his precious name.

So here’s to the ones with perfect grace,
Who’d sell out their souls to save face—
Let’s raise a glass to the pure, the pious,
Who won’t admit they’re just like us.

It feels like some men are still clinging to the same ideals they’ve been taught, just in different clothes. How do you think we can challenge this cycle, or has it become so ingrained that change is impossible?

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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