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domestic abuse
Please choose your poem:


This source of feministic hate -
Is it of frosted, clear or plate?
And for all those who work below,
Is looking up a shocking show?
I sought it here, I sought it there.
I sought that structure everywhere.
Yet never once twixt earth and sky
Th'alleged barrier did I spy.
So afterwards I thought it wise
To look through other people's eyes.
Amongst my friends I did enquire
To see if it had roused their ire.
The inspector of police did posit
That she had never come across it.
A fire-fightress known to me
Said she was quite glass ceiling free.
Executrixes far and wide
Had never once that 'thing'espied.
In fact all those who'd found success
Knew of the ceiling less and less.
The object of this female scorn
Must parallel the unicorn -
A myth of literary fame -
With this glass ceiling just the same.
It is the quintessential yell
Of every failing, thick, dumb belle;
Of all who fail to climb the tree
Because of being n... b... g...
Only a 'fact' to every dame
To whom life is a losing game.
So let us all with one intent
Just bury 'it' without lament
Consigned, for all to plainly see,
To legendary history
David Hughes

IF. . .

IF you can keep your head when, with elation,
The feminazi fiends are blaming you
For everything from crime to menstruation,
And half the sinning they themselves do, too; *
If you can bear to watch our British justice
Twisted by judges full of 'chivalry',
With attitudes to men born out of malice
While letting murderesses walk off free;
IF you can talk with media folk around you,
And have your words all twisted by their cant,
Refusing you reply to those who flout you,
But yet allowing feminists to rant;
If you can watch the wimps and 'new' men clutter
The TV channels with misandric shows,
And never heed a word of what they utter,
But let them melt away like summer snows;
IF you can undertake your matrimony
With promises sincere to God above,
Only to lose your kids and house and money
To a divorcing wife who could not love;
If you can find a true, forgiving spirit
And start again with one who's love is true,
And know that marriage must have something in it
For future generations and for you;
IF you can see inventions of the ages
All made by men to ease society's lot,
The art, the science, writings of the sages,
All written off by feministic plot;
If you can fight for family every minute
Whilst being blamed for every crime that's done,
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it,
And obviously you are a MAN my son.
David Hughes
(With apologies to Rudyard Kipling)
( * e.g. domestic violence, sexual abuse of children, drug smuggling.)



The Important Career

Today I left some dishes dirty,
The bed got made around two-thirty.
The nappies soaked a little longer,
The odour grew a little stronger.
The crumbs I spilled the day before
Were staring at me from the floor.
The dirty streaks on window panes
Will still be there next time it rains.
'For shame, o lazy one!' you say,
And 'Just what have you done all day?'
I nursed a baby while he slept,
I held a toddler while he wept,
I played a game of hide-and-seek,
I squeezed a toy so it would squeak,
I pushed a swing, I sang a song,
I taught a child what's right and wrong.
What did I do this whole day through?
Not much that shows - I guess that's true,
Unless you think that what I've done
Might be important to someone
With bright blue eyes and soft blonde hair.
If that is true, I've done my share.


(Written by a young New Zealand Mum)



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