For Men Only!
The unknowing Woman!
(…or, Women of Condor Wide-wings) a Prose poem
For a poet, it is his
function to voice life as he sees it, and so I must do so,
but I must
confess, only a woman knows a woman!
So what I’m imperturbably sharing here is: my
observations, experience;
and that
will have to do.
I will try to do so from the incontrovertible facts of my
ambiance from
yesteryear!
Lest my wife hang me for writing this.
The women, those I have known, personally known, intimately
known, not
all but more
of them, than less, are or have been at one time or another
the
instinctive huntress of men; I call this condors with wide-wings, —
(to be quite frank, my wife was more huntress of me, than I was a hunter of
her:
that is to say: she was
known to be shy, but that was the wrong
word for her: yes, she fooled everyone, she
was not shy, she was waiting: sure, shrewd
and resourceful, and
resolute…);
This is not bad or good, just a fact; like feelings: they
are neither good nor
bad, they
just are…
And in point of fact, for I have seen this with my own
eyes, more than one
time, should
an interesting man be in with the pack, say a thousand other men (all handsome,
bulky with muscles coming out of their ears) fear not,
she sees
just that one, naked or not, ugly as a goblin, or homely as an
imp, — she
sees only him, the rest I’m afraid, are lost to oblivion.
Women should get—the day they are born—a Ph.D., in
psychology, they
know how to
read men, much better than a man can read them.
At times, supernumerary—and more often than not,
imperturbably, they go
about
humming, bustling, making their little nests, and then suddenly lugubrious,
malevolent—men call this moody—yet they remain desirable to
men!
My advice is simple, find a hideaway, hobby, or dive into
a book: the main
point being,
it’s not worth the percentage, of what it will cost, to
confront an
inevitable end, of circular confrontation!
They are like sun to the sunflowers, or snow to winter,
or rain to spring…
They have many moods, and many degrees to those moods and
behind
those condor
feathers, and deep into the predator’s skins, resides,
Love-seekers: obsessing, possessing, depressing, making
men always
guessing!
I know, they look fragile, soft like a teddy bear, but
when you’ve been
around a
while, you will surely find out they can be fierce, venomous,
More a prowler, and even more prouder, than the snake in
Eden; yet man
will not let
go of his morbid attraction for the woman: thus, blazing through the night,
like the Green Knight, sword in hand, with ruthless
passion to
cut off his head to show her his lustful-love!
She can be awful and soulless at times, thus, making her
man
cantankerous
by her sway, and drawn into her web like a fly: to no
escape.
Who is the savage here?
Who returns to the dark den?
This calls for contemplation!
Is it not the muse of the woman, at its very end? I know,
I have given you
more
questions, statements, than answers:
But I doubt they, themselves can cough up afresh
diagnosis of themselves
by their own
mystery:
You see, the snake in the garden, went to the woman to
get to the man, to
get to God,
yes he took the long way around, but see who got the job
done, it was
the woman!
And who did God have stomped on the snake’s head?
Yes, again it was a Woman!
My advice to you: be nice to them, or get out of their
way, forget revenge,
women are
better at that also…
Written
9-23-2014 (No: 5558)
