Wednesday, March 4, 2009

The games we play....

Boys and Girls

Boys and girls are taught different games,
Boys learn to be soldiers, learn they'll rule the world,
when they're older, lifted up on their daddy's shoulders,
While we hid behind our mother's skirts,
watched her scrub the dirt, that they brought in,
And even when we tomboys fought in the same dirt,
we were never told we had the same worth,
Because the princess never road the steed,
it was the knight that did the great deed,
And we just let down our hair and relinquished our power,
to a man, that wasn’t worthy of climbing our tower,
But we knew one day, our prince would come,
and even if we didn’t , at least he got some,
Seeking satisfaction in this primal interaction,
seems to often be one sided , Unfair to fairer sex,
when his pleasure is your gag reflex,
Not that I'm complaining, cause we do get ours,
but in the battle of the powers,decorating dollhouses
loses out to climbing those towers,
Now this glass ceiling has me feeling that,
in this game, boys always get a head start,
Cause they're taught to think with their heads,
and we’re taught to think with our hearts.

So while in his dreams he soars through the sky,
and extinguishes fires, we dream that he'll see us as objects of desire,
Our childhood dreams prone to the guys on Dream Phone,
Hey there, It’s Ken I’ll probably f*ck you and never talk to you again,
Hi, it's Steve want to go to the movies,
So I can pretend to hold your hand,
when all I want is to touch your boobies,
Remember how we used to wish to be equipped
to be just a pair of tits,because all eyes were on the prize,
And a boyfriend only seemed a bra size away,
But even then, we were fearful that he’d stray,
Cause even Barbie couldn’t trust Stacy with Ken,
so we just stripped off their clothes in the den,
Before you knew it the pink convertible was a rocking,
And my mom came knocking with cookies,
and told us girls to play nice,
So we learned to coat our games with sugar and spice,
From then on winning the only way we knew how,
And I think back now,
What if I asked Zander if I would pander,
away my friendships for the whims of a philanderer;
And he’d reply, ask again, so I’d turn to my friend
And she’d pretend, like she never do that kind of thing,
While she eyes my Ring-Pop, and we find ourselves heading
for a Perfect Wedding, so caught up in the Mall Madness
That we don’t see sadness in the fact that we're trying to buy
our sense of self, filling our shelves with short skirts and tube tops,
Licking our Lolipops, as if we don’t know the meaning
of this gesture in his direction, too young to distinguish
between an erection and affection,
Girls wearing women's bodies that they aren’t yet comfortable in,
Walking around in glittered makeup, as if it's second skin,
But all that glitters isn’t gold,
And just cause he pays for date doesn’t mean you should be sold,

And even now past the pubesecent anxiety,
When I’ve come to take my place as a woman in society,
And where am I now.
I am women hear me ...
See I never roared cause I didn’t know how
to be anything but a pussy
Pretty pleasing and ceasing to embrace my pms,
Im pretty sure this rage, is justified by more then premenstrual stress
Perhaps im stressing dressing like I'm on display everyday
But if I'm going be gawked at,
I don’t want to look like I'm on the sales rack,
So I primp and pimp my assets
Without thoughts to the aspects of me, that they don’t see.

See, I thought I had long stopped playing hide and go seek,
But I'm still hiding my true self, while seeking solace in somebody else,
And though I never got those seven minutes in heaven,
and long after I’ve finished a couple of bottles, I’m still spinning,
and the game keeps going yet I’m never winning
I keep on forgetting that recess is over,
and that these games aren’t as much fun when your older.
In this akward evolution toward finding the women in me,
I keep resigning myself to the limitations of what that could be,
Constantly confronted by that little girl,
who was taught to be a pretty princess
living in a king’s world.


  1. Don't hate on Dream Phone just cause Ken never took your calls and stood you up at the mall. One day you too can hear the words "You're right - I really like you!"

  2. Ah, this is why you were reciting poems in the shower this morning. You've starting infiltrating your blog with them..