STICKS AND STONES – A POEM FOR A ZINE ON MANHOOD 

Writing

Sticks and stones 

may break my bones

but words shall

never harm me,

Don’t be a girl,

A wimp, or worse,

A faggot, play with army

toys and other boys,

Find maggots in the dirt,

Boys don’t cry

and men should die 

before they say they’re hurt;

Shoot wooden guns 

under the sun,

Get muddy trousers 

washed by Mum,

Become obsessed with 

blood and cum

and look up those 

girl’s skirts;

Build dens with friends

and camp out there,

Compare dick size 

and pubic hair,

Behave,

Tuck in your shirt;

Score tries and goals

don’t read that book,

Do what you’re told

don’t ask or look

and when you’re old

you’ll thank me,

Find a wife 

and treat her nice,

Go to work and 

fuck at night

if you can

get it up,

Drink beer and ale,

Grow beards, tell tales

about the good old days,

Wait nine months

you’ll have a son,

Wait ten years 

he’ll have toy guns 

and friends to joke and play,

Wait five more he’ll want 

to know just how

babies are made;

He’ll look up to you

with all you do,

and be scared to

make mistakes,

Sticks and stones 

may break his bones,

But his heart is yours 

to break.  
MY OTHER WRITING – HERE 

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