Poetical perspective on gynocentrism


Everybody’s beautiful

Sang Ray Stevens’

Back in my childhood days

And society today

Is attempting to echo

His positive uplifting message

-for women

And girls

Morbidly obese?



Pleasantly plump?

All gorgeous

All oozing feminine allure

Which any discerning male

Should see and appreciate

Oversized models grace

The covers of magazines

Pouting and posing

Proudly revelling in their rolls

Of excess femininity

And daring men

To say or do anything

Other than confess

Their attraction

And praise the exquisite

Perfection of their chubby charms

We are yet to see

Pot bellied

Fat arsed males

Adorn any magazines

And we certainly demand nothing

Of the women confronted

With such unsightly men

Other than to turn in disgust

And express their disdain

For the ugly, fat creeps

Who clearly take no pride

In their health or appearance

Boys understand very early

That should they present

A less than ideal physique

To the world

They will be rightly dismissed

Derided and denigrated

Girls bathe in an ocean

Of admiration and adulation

Whatever their form

And this explains

The plethora of pudgy

Females wandering our streets

And shopping malls

In clothing which

Deliberately displays their

Portly pudginess

Roly poly rotundity

With brash, impudent insolence

And nary a shred of shame

Or self-awareness


Every female is beautiful, Ray



Bobby Hill has testicular cancer

Bobby plays in the AFL

Hawk Peter Crimmins died

From the same cancer

Carlton skipper

Sam Docherty battled

This insidious disease

And returned to emotional

Triumphal scenes

Ben Cunnington is still fighting

And may never play again

And I wondered when

The AFLW ladies

Were planning their testicular cancer

Awareness round

And fundraising campaign

For this ubiquitous man killer

For are they not

The natural nurturers

The compassionate caring

Tender-hearted, empathetic

Generous gender?

Confusion and contradiction reign

For men relentlessly raise

Multiple millions in cold cash

For female specific cancers

Devote days to this cause

At the expense of their own

Health needs

Males happily wear pink

And dig deep for

their sickly sisters

at football and cricket matches

yet still

our society views

masculinity as toxic

teaches our boys and girls

about the oppressive nature

of men and boys

tells the ignorant and gullible

of male self interest

and dominance

their unjust subjugation

of the sweeter sex

and the obstacles they hurl

in their way

Yet reality lays the myths bare

For any who have eyes to see

And ears to hear


There are too few willing

To look or listen



The students at Toorak Girls College

Are taught all about

Their oppression

By their committed competent

Compassionate teachers

They learn all about

The perils and pitfalls

They will encounter

Due to their genitalia

Financial inequity

Gender pay gaps

Dependence and insecurity

Glass ceilings

And boys’ clubs

But how do these

Precious pearls of percipience

Maintain their hold

When the pupils pay

A visit to their local mall

Or shopping centre?

For what confronts

Their poisoned polluted brains?

Oceans of clothing, footwear

Make up, décor

All carefully prepared and presented

For their purchasing pleasure

By retailers who have but one ambition

To make a profit

Kmart stores rebuke

The feminist lies

Without a word spoken

Or argument raised

Who is their targeted demographic?

Whose eye and money

Is being tantalized and titillated?

Walk about the enormous store

And ponder the preponderance of products

Designed and displayed for women


Why would any retailer

Be s insane

As to woo a woman

Or girl?

For are they not

Financially impoverished?

Dollar deficient?

Dismally destitute?

Deliberately disadvantaged?

Do retailers wish to fail?

Do they not understand

That their marketed merchandise

Will simply sit unwanted?



Do the girls have enough intelligence

And integrity

To push aside the deliberate disinformation

Force fed as their daily diet

And view it for the house of cards

It is?

Perhaps not

As they walk by

An endless array of shopfronts

Desperately desiring female attention

Does the penny drop?

Sadly, I think not

Independent thought

Seeing reality as opposed

To ideology

Is a lost art

So, they sit and have their nails painted

Toes pedicured

Faces washed and creams applied

Handbags slung

Bags stuffed with unneeded clothing

Another pair of superfluous shoes

And a “girl power” Tshirt

And converse over coffee and cake

Their oppression and struggles

Foremost in their confused

Ignorant minds


I hope, somewhat forlornly

Those responsible

For the creation of these generations

Of pampered, coddled and cosseted


Will be called upon

To face the music

Pay the piper

Account for their sins

Before facing a just retribution

For their deliberate deception

And degenerate bigotry



A comedian nailed it

So succinctly

He silenced

The cackling, screeching females

With his coldy, clinical logic

Lured them into his trap

Like the deadliest trapdoor spider

Such that they never saw

The poisonous pincers

Preparing to snap

And crush the life from

their hapless, hollow argument

so devastatingly

they had to join in the uncertain laughter

of the now educated audience

My body my choice

They chant

And he says,

Sure! I am with you girls!

Men have no right

To tell you what to do

With the baby you carry!”

Hear them scream

Their righteous approval?

And he stands silent

Letting them enjoy

Their pyrrhic victory

And then sets their humiliation

In motion


If we are going to accept

That men have no say

Over what a woman does

With her body

Then we must surely agree

That a woman or government

Should have no say

As to what a man should do

With his money!

Deeper masculine voices

Now cheer

Why can’t I have a paper abortion?

Why don’t I have the right

To say I want nothing to do with

The baby you carry

You want it?

You raise it and you pay for it!

More cheers

And embarrassed chuckles

From those who have been

Exposed as frauds and hypocrites

By a black comedian

With a microphone



Only women can have a preference

Yet another societal law

Perhaps unwritten

But indelibly imprinted

In our minds and hearts

And clearly understood

In the dating game

Women can boldly

State their preferences

Describe without apology

The type of man

Who makes their heart flutter

And their juices flow

He has to be tall

Must have a nice head of hair

Can’t be too hairy (said with a shudder)

Must be in good shape

Have a well-paying job

No fatties allowed

No nerds or baldies

No short males need apply

All this and more

Can be stated

Without apology

Or the slightest sense

Of shame at this

Shallow judgement

Yet men are vilified

The very moment

They attempt to classify

The type of woman

Who stirs their loins


Fat phobic

Body shamer

Shallow chauvinist

Arrogant superficial player


No magazine promotes

Short, bald, obese males

On their front cover

But obese women

Adorn billboards

And hairy armpits

And furry legs

Are thrust provocatively under

Our judgemental noses

Daring us to make

One negative comment

Or even display a momentary look of distaste

So they can explode in rage

And call out our disgusting sexism

And oppressive expectations

Which make slaves of all women


A fat gut exposed to

A gaggle of girls

Would draw forth

Gasps of revulsion

And demands for the bare flesh

To be covered

Before they vomit

Or accuse the slob

Of a sex crime


This is the simple truth

And it is indisputably

The way of the world

And still our whining witches

The frazzled females

Who obsess over body image

And self esteem

Would not consider

The brutal dismissal

Of fat ugly men

From their presence

To be anything other than

Appropriate and acceptable

Sensible and seemly


For in their eyes

Men are less than human

For no other world view

Could explain such

Callous, cruel and contradictory behaviour



They were ubiquitous

Strode proudly

About the massive amphitheatre

No skulking in shadows

Or hang dog humility

Side by side they stood

With the men in khaki


We stood as one

In silent recognition

Of the courage and sacrifice

Of our brave soldiers

The bugle calls us to attention

Let us contemplate

The deeds of

Our dauntless


Men and women


And I shudder inwardly

As I try to comprehend

What goes on in

The minds of the females

Wearing the uniform we honour

Tens of thousands of men

And boys

Have died fighting for this country

I love

Or been horrifically maimed

In mind and body

But men and women

Are acknowledged




Given equal standing

My God-females in uniform

Standing centre stage

As the last post

Echoes around the vast stadium

And I feel the fraudulence

They should be experiencing

The complete unworthiness

Of their situation

This day was never created

To honour tent assembly

Food distribution

Medical treatment

Of the impoverished or war torn


Long after the fighting is done


It was for those who walked


Into a hailstorm of shrapnel

And shells and felt the warm wet blood

Of their mates showering their own skin

It was for those

Who stood or sat

Upon the decaying flesh

Of their friends and foes

In deep dark trenches

Or saw their own feet rot

And smelt the putrid stench

Of their decomposed extremities

It was for those who returned home

A gibbering shell of what they once were


But…….there they are

Lipstick and eye rouge applied

A crucial preparation

For those who know

The camera lens

Will close in on their stoic

Pancaked faces

No bayonet thrusts

Or grenades were hurled

By the petite hands

Of the females

In uniform

Breasts adorned

With multi coloured badges

And medals

For what, is never specified

Or articulated

Luxuriating in this special day

Created to honour

Our fallen

Our maimed

Our men

Shame on you

Shame on all who

Play this sick transparent game



Every election which comes around

Be it state or federal

We hear this question

And the truly shocking aspect

Of this tradition

Is that it is not considered

To be truly shocking


Heads nod

And politicians’ furrow

Their brows

And employ their well- practised look

Of deep concern

And adamant agreement

With the great importance

Of this question

In a world where half the population

Is never mentioned

Or the cause of a raised eyebrow

Let alone a furrowed one

We must ponder seriously

The health of a society

Which sees no wrong

In this endless obsession

With the well being

Of one half of the electorate


Those who are ignored

Those who are never mentioned

In heated cabinet discussions

Or planning for speeches and debates

Except when a villain is required


A group which can be vilified, demonized

And mocked without fear of consequences

is the perfect target

For they will never raise their voices in protest

Silent, disposable and too proud

Or ashamed

To speak out

And ask for a crumb

From the government their sweat

And taxes keep afloat


Fuck all of the bastards

The bigots and haters

Who have ignored


Shat on






And deserted

Our men and boys















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