Lazaretto
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I want to be the kind of man that you will envy, and not for envy’s sake. But rather for the purpose of offending your passivity, if in turn, it causes your heart to awake. Strong in times of weakness, and boldness when the craven arise, and making plain the truth, for which you neglected to fight. And when I confront you with confidence, I hope a coward will die that day. The one who hides in you and I, kept alive by shame. I want to be the kind of man who offers strength when you are weak. Fighting for your wounded heart, when there appears to be no way. So come to me my brother and sister, and rest your weary arm upon my shoulder. I will help you run your race, as we do fight together. For two are always stronger than one, because when one stumbles the other can aid in his rescue. So let us fight the good fight, arm in arm together. I want to be the kind of man that sees you when your blue, who offers you encouragement, and shores up your good spirits. Whose known among the community for achieving many merits. But not for the merits sake, no, rather for your benefit. That I would encourage you to achieve your own honorable mentions. So you can call me old fashioned, hell, call me whatever you choose. For I will be the kind of man unchanged by your petty views. And I am immune from my will being broken, and trampled in the streets. I’ve visualized the victory, resolved, and won’t be beat. Because I am the type of man created in majesty. I traded in cowardice long ago, in order to be free. Can you see in me the kind of man that you have longed to be? If so, then I hope that you can grab a hold of the masculine disposition, and integrate its epithets into your situations. For life has many blows and heavy loads to lay upon the manly heart. Each one plats its role of emasculation to the core. Creating a gay effeminacy, that our society implores. Glorified derelicts, who hide behind a façade of strength, while inside they are poltroons, and cowards by another name. What a travesty, that this has become our expectation. We’ve blithely traded in our manhood, in exchange for reservation. And preservation has become the grand goal of our desire. Comfort, and a big bank role, through which we can retire. But inside and out we have waxed tired. Inundated by a lethargic quagmire, and a passionless disposition, bred by unstoked fires. A generation of petty liars, who have surrendered their noble titles. Desperately in need of recompense. The world was intended to be our oyster, but we must dig through the filth to obtain our pearl. If you’ve simply been given a handout, then you will miss the treasure. Life is fierce, and has a big set of horns that are in need of grabbing onto. So, if your gumption permits, grab on and do not let go. Because if you do, you will be gorged and trampled underfoot by that bull. Do you feel me? And can you hear what I’m saying? Because true masculinity is a dying breed. The World is longing and aching for courageous men to be the hero’s it needs. But there is a parabolic place at a table, which was vacated by most men long ago. And we’ve tried so hard to fill that place, with every concoction the world could grow. But none of them have worked, in fact they failed miserably, and that void is as empty as ever. Regardless of how wise, psychological, or modern they seemed, for these concoctions are thought to be clever. But the vacancy remains, while families construct a mask to hide their confusion and pain. But our minds have been drained of common sense, and the lucidity needed to make plain. We’ve been duped into accepting a life where real men have nothing valid to bring. And so, they are dismissed. And effeminacy does rule the day. But I will be the kind of man who will not conform to the pressures of normalcy. And you will thank me down the road sometime; when I offer my strength to fight for your heart, and having been released from captivity, you take the World by storm. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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