What query does my spirit haunt-
What is it that women want?
To what do they profess desire,
What is it that they admire?
A vast and fast majority
Will first admit maturity,
And second sensitivity
Thrown in with creativity,
And someone with abundant care
Who to all shows treatment fair,
Someone to lift her spirits high,
To lend an arm on which to cry.
Someone whose humor runs quite deep
Yet is not so foolish as to keep
Themselves where they do not belong,
Who can admit when they are wrong.
Someone with lofty goals in life
But devoted to his gentle wife
And loving to his children dear,
And all his family here and there.
Someone who can take the pain away
Just with the sweetest things they say,
Who's bright enough to get on by
Without an ego that's in the sky,
Someone who can love the art
That issues from the artist's heart,
Who can appreciate the finer things
That they find that this life brings.
This is the man they're looking for,
The one who is their homme d'or-
And yet I find this isn't so,
Because from what I see I know
Women are deep in lies, you see,
Mired deep in their hypocrisy,
For this is not their thought the first,
But rather quenching of the thirst
For men, whose brains most matter not
For it isn't brains these men have got,
But bodies large, robust, and sound,
And stature high above the ground-
Or even mister moneybags,
Whose chin almost to the ground sags,
Whose purse is almost endlessly
Giving her more money, see.
Perhaps his attribute is fame;
Simply he has a well-known name
Gotten from only God knows where-
Do you think the women care?
As long as he is so well known
That the act she can condone
And inspire awe into her friends-
To her means are justified by ends.
Or else she wants a grizzly bear
Who can get in there and tear
It up for just the whole night through,
Something she often likes to do.
Don't let her attitude demure
Fool you, for girls are as impure
In their minds as are we men-
They just know how to hold it in;
And all it boils down to is pain
Of type that drives the girls insane
With pleasure oozing from her slow
Or fast, with girls you never know.
They like it just as much as we,
But most won't admit it, you see,
Because to them image is key
And they don't want to be known to be
By names such as a slut or whore;
Such anathema will hurt them more
Than any pain man can inflict,
And so to this they contradict
The facts they know to be quite true
About the things they like to do
And the things they're looking for-
This lie lies in the woman's core.
This is their most basic deception
Which from me gets no reception
As it's evil, worthy of despise,
At least despise within my eyes,
And why I'm glad to be a man
Because at least I know I can
Admit truth when necessity
Demands absolute truth from me.
I do not hide behind a veil
Of seeming innocent and frail
And wanting something that is nice
But welcome as the sun to ice,
I'll come right out, tell all to hear
Exactly what I want, no fear
In saying that I want a girl
Who can (succinctly) rock my world-
In layman's terms, a simple freak
To pleasure me week after week,
And who bends to my will alone
As if I do her body own;
Who must be just as fine as hell
And might be smart and wise as well
And able to appreciate
The things in life that I find great,
And whose demands are not so much
That to meet them takes an effort at such
Lengths outside what I yet do
And already aspire to;
Whose pleasure stems from as it is
And comes not from hers, rather his,
No "as I wish things ought to be,"
Not so for any girl for me.
Someone who's glad with what they've got,
Who doesn't dwell on what they've not,
Who doesn't play the childish games
That give girls ill-begotten names.
A woman who can keep it real,
Who won't become the extra wheel
That holds me back from having fun
Because she knows that I'm the one,
Who will return day after day
No matter how far I may stray
So I can do just what I want
Without the fear that she will haunt
My thoughts while I am having fun
Out with my friends so when I'm done
And come back home that I meet strife
With her I hope would be my wife,
For she's upset that I have left
Her all alone, with her bereft;
Deserted her for pleasures mild,
As opposed to pleasures wild
That I reserve solely for she
Because she does the same for me.
My girl would know that she is free
From mine and female treachery,
She knows exactly how things are
And doesn't let her feelings mar
What she knows to be quite true
Of what I will and will not do.
She won't expect too much of me,
More than she knows that I can be,
She'll know what I will do for her
And from this she can then infer
Exactly what she has to do
To take care of what she has to-
That's what I want, no other things,
But this is not what my life brings,
And I am not so foolish that
I do not know where things are at,
That this woman I'd like to know
Is far above while I'm below
Our single place of common meet-
But from my dream of her retreat
I won't, for if you stay enough,
And endure times both long and rough,
You never know, for lucky some,
To them, what dreams may ever come,
And hope is all I have for me
To get this girl I hope to see.
But women do not know this creed,
Instead they make desire deed,
Connive their way to their man
If on their own this not they can.
Their trickery runs through their blood
Like worms escaping forming mud,
They know no moral dignities
But only well known falsities,
They strive all life to reach an end
And trample every single friend
And every foe to get to there-
Who they destroy they do not care.
And then they have the gall to say
That "fairer sex" belongs to they
Who reap naught but the devil's wheat,
Who truly waste from where they eat;
They fein to be of mercy mild
And void of any impulse wild,
And condemn men for all their worth
Because of genders on the earth
Men are the better of the two,
More logical, less complex too-
We're direct, open to a tee,
We pretend not a thing to be
Except for who we know we are,
Something from which the girls are far
From ever getting near to close-
This is what makes me so morose,
What incites me to flaming rage,
Though I don't claim to be a sage,
Just someone who has seen enough
To know that life is often tough
And truth is always simply that,
It varies not from where it's at;
And truth is that women are vain
Unwieldly beasts who've gone insane
For they elude life's little facts
By deviant and horrid acts.
They bend the rules to make them fit
Into their will so they can sit
Amongst their friends and look their best,
Or simply better than the rest-

I'm tired of the woman's shit,
That bitch is just a hypocrite.