Love The Girl
A woman should be treated with the greatest of care — yes, tender, loving care,
For women are priceless treasure, poetry in motion; simply beyond compare.
Yes, a gift to man, who should guard them protectively, love them unselfishly,
Delighting in their sweet company, and attending to them sensitively.
No harsh nor unfitting words should reach a woman’s ears, and no look should displease,
For women need reassurance, words that their concerns and emotions will ease.
Words in due season (and not out of), for women mostly need listening to,
And such is what they desire — yes, a tuned in ear, that their best seeks to pursue.
A woman should be cherished, nourished, greatly prized, handled like fine porcelain,
Bearing in mind that she has been so designed to compliment the masculine.
Thus, only tender expressions should come her way, and that which bolsters and buoys,
For her life should be filled with happiness, selfless acts, wholesome pleasures, lasting joys.
Yes, a woman should be celebrated, complimented, appreciated,
Surrounded with undying affection, a love that’s unadulterated,
A love that’s faithful to the end, and that her honour will defend, despite the cost,
A love that’s committed, and that in her, rather than himself, is centered, lost.
Such love will see a woman bloom, and from that bloom a fragrance will emanate,
One that the heart and soul of the selfless kindler will further captivate.
A fragrance that brings its own reward, for love begets love, rewards the giver,
And a brighter life for both the giver and receiver will duly deliver.
So love the girl, treat her like a princess, and make her your top priority,
Shower her with little gifts, loving surprises — yes, romance her ceaselessly.
Give her all the time you can, support her in her endeavours, be her best friend,
A confidante whose lips are sealed forever, never to betray or offend.
Yes, love the girl, let nothing stand in your way, let nothing tear you from her side,
And tell her all those things that she needs to hear, as hand in hand you walk beside.
For there’s no greater treasure than a woman, and her worth will continue to grow,
Providing you never forget those seeds that every man needs to lovingly sow.
Go on, love the girl!
By Lance Landall
2. What Have We Done To Our Women Folk?
What have we done to our women folk (they so precious), and who’s responsible?
They plastering their faces with caustic chemicals that only lead to ill.
And oh, those back, leg, knee and foot damaging heels that get higher by the day,
And with them, those higher skirts and daring tops that chill whatever’s on display.
Yes, what have we done to our women folk? — so many of them wrecking their hair,
All in an effort to straighten or curl, and then there’s that gunky spray, oh dear.
And also those sun beds that injure and age their skin, and even tattoos now,
The latter blighting what any husband would behold, his thoughts more “oh” than “wow.”
And adding insult to injury:
That plastic surgeon’s knife that lacks foresight, wisdom and moral integrity,
A woman’s natural beauty disfigured and scarred by what oft turns nasty.
And all so pointlessly, they oft the only one unhappy with their body,
But ads and images fuelling discontent and usually lying cruelly.
So there you have it, our women plastered, dyed, sprayed, scorched, pierced, disfigured and scarred,
And how many have exchanged their clothes for those lust fuelled porn flicks in which they’ve starred?
Yes, our women decked out like Christmas trees, oft artificial inside and out,
Or naked, they caving to demands or conned — and men, lapping it up, no doubt;
Well, those men who’re that way inclined, are thus more into the sexy than healthy,
Their woman perilously perched, sporting goose bumps and cosmetic fakery.
And oh, such dire expense, manufacturers laughing all the way to the bank,
And when those deceiving heals and lying paint have come off, how many hearts have sank?
Excuse my frankness here, but you can’t beat those natural breasts, be they big or small,
That face or body that’s not doctored, that simple, natural girl, short or tall.
But no, we’ve misused our women folk, turned them into dolly birds — objects, say,
Even prostitute look-alikes in many cases — and no, it’s not okay,
And why some men stray, do what certainly doesn't pay.
Yes, what have we done to our women folk, those daughters of ours once young and pure?
But now, many narcissistic, sassy, moody, loose, adrift and insecure,
For we paint, dye, spray, scorch, pierce, deform and scar them, sexy them up and parade them,
And why we just end up with a glass replica of an original gem.
By Lance Landall
3. Cosmetics And Criminality
It’s such a tragedy, even a crime, that so many women are undergoing plastic surgery,
Thanks to irresponsible doctors and surgeons who are often aiding the cruel cosmetic industry.
An industry that spends billions on conning women, who, thanks to the deceptive spiel and pressure out there,
Gradually succumb to, or willingly embrace, that which soon becomes a burden that they’re forced to bear.
That is, when such goes wrong, and often it does, hence why certain things should never be condoned by anyone,
Especially doctors and plastic surgeons, who, by the way, oft don’t give all the facts before something’s done.
Hence that physical and emotional pain that many women go through after things go badly astray,
Which has them longing for that health they once had, and even that way they once looked — oh, how those who know betray.
Yes, cosmetics-cum-criminality, an industry that has women harming their health, wasting their money,
And also their time, for so much is spent on the body beautiful, and all of it unnecessary,
'Cause most women are perfectly okay as they are, and aren’t in need of harmful cosmetics or surgery,
Which, at the end of the day, denies them the freedom of being themselves, and turns them into a forgery.
In other words, their painted faces effectively lie, exchanging the truth for what’s really fantasy,
For airbrushed looks aren’t the norm, and when removed, may leave one’s partner less content, preferring the lie, you see.
And lie cosmetics do, midst lining the pockets of those who make a killing out of conning women, who,
Should be accepted, desired and cherished for who they are, not how they look, though one can appreciate looks too.
By Lance Landall
4. Give Me A woman...
Yes, one who’s every inch a woman (not an ounce of masculinity),
One who’s free of tattoos, body piercings, Botox and silicon injury.
A woman who’s just herself, she proud of her womanhood, femininity,
And thereby not conveying failure by resorting to sexuality.
So,
Give me a women like they used to be, no stray stealing her virginity,
Nor pawing what any self-respecting woman would keep for matrimony.
And she proud of her apron, it her symbol of liberty, not slavery,
Cooking and ironing willingly chosen, she happy to wait on hubby,
Who, as a result,
Has more time to pursue what will prove a blessing to his wife and family,
And is less likely to bolt.
Such not a relic of the past but how many women still wish it to be,
They not intimidated by bra burning feminists who act foolishly.
For absent bras don’t do women any favours, nor working boots, overalls,
And that unsightly vein bulging body building which so many men appals.
Yes, give me a women who’s different in every way, a girly girl,
Such much more appealing to my manhood, I enjoying each curve, curl and twirl.
And midst it all, she maintaining her dignity, she tidy, clean and moral,
And thereby, a fine example to her children, for in time the truth will tell.
Yes, give me a woman who’s sweet and affectionate, with an inner beauty,
She no boozer or smoker, but a home loving wife with a sense of duty.
She not aping men nor a threat to them, but an interested supporter,
Who, well aware of renegade men, would never let just anyone court her.
Well, that’s the ideal, for one may full in love with a woman who has a past,
One she regrets and why she’s headed in a new direction, one that will last.
And therefore one accepting that soiling and marring, that someway yet to go,
Many of us having chosen the wrong path from which so much ill’s seen to flow.
But it so sad that the modern woman has sold her soul, bought into the lie,
All for what amounts to thirty pieces of silver — oh why oh why oh why? —
’Cause now she’s less respected, the puppet of profiteers, an object of lust,
She tripping, partying, bedding, tattooed, siliconed, pierced, used and hardly fussed,
And why a turnaround's a must!
By Lance Landall
5. Dear Women
Many men in this world are losing their respect for you — well, many of you —
And also their desire to protect, support and cherish, be faithful and true.
Why?
Because you’re cursing, cussing, boozing, acting just as callous, loose and bawdy,
And dressing so immodestly, which shouts you’ve no pride and are just as lusty.
And decent men don’t like that, want that, but for women to be as they once were,
For it’s a man’s nobleness (and not his lust, disgust and fear), you’re meant to stir.
The truth is, you’ve become a threat, are competing instead of complimenting,
And hey, so what if you can do what a man can, that really doesn’t prove a thing.
If you’re wishing for a knight in shining armour, best you act like a princess,
And here I’m not just talking about a change in behaviour, but how you dress.
Otherwise men will soon objectify you, their senses stirred more than their heart,
All why many men are seen to enjoy the sexual romp and then depart.
And hence why women are left standing while men are sitting on a bus or train,
No longer offering to help, hold some door open, or selfishness restrain.
But treating women like one of the boys, only being nice when wanting something,
Many women having forgotten that their difference was where it was at,
(funny that), and why back it’s best they swing.
By Lance Landall
6. What's With The Tattoos, Ladies?
I don’t know who or what has convinced you to get tattoos, or that they look great,
Because as someone who I’m sure speaks for many men, such are something we hate.
Please forgive my bluntness here, but the truth is, we don’t think they look nice on you,
And are a turn-off rather than a turn-on, leaving you looking black and blue;
Yes, that black eye discolouration-cum-hue that does nothing at all for you.
Part of a woman’s gorgeousness is her clean, unadulterated body,
Which in marriage was meant to be enjoyed in its natural, pristine beauty.
Thus what a let down to see that body marred by what amounts to graffiti,
A tattoo somewhat like a blob of ink on a clean page, crude and unsightly.
No matter how skilled the artistry, it does nothing for femininity,
And in the scheme of things, tattoos have more in common with masculinity.
And another truth is, that their origin is primitive and occultic,
Hence those mystical, New Age and demonic images that people oft pick.
And once etched in the skin, they’re pretty much there to stay, and thus marring beauty,
Tattoos often looking like bruises, and more so when splattered copiously.
They also doing to women what smoking, boozing and swearing does — SOIL, SPOIL —
But oh, how women like to copy men these days, and why when confronted with such,
Many of us men recoil.
And say,
What man wants to look at his wife’s body and see another man’s invasion?
That man having been privy to what he shouldn’t have been on some occasion.
Or more than once, and his handiwork oft in the most intimate of places,
Bottoms, breasts and so on, all of which simply detracts, downgrades and defaces.
You know, a tattoo reminds me of those horrid branding irons one sees,
Cattle having been tattooed with some rancher’s markings in those cowboy movies.
Such cruel, unsightly and there to stay; and some tattooist having left his mark,
It hardly a product of enlightenment, but more a return to the dark.
And thereby, the tattooed clones and victims of another money making fad,
One that given its permanence, is very sad.
Yes, many copiously tattooed arms look blackened, bruised and even dirty,
Even scary, as if that person has just walked out of a horror movie.
And weren't brandings once a sign of a prisoner, murderer, adulterer?
And thus why in my eyes a tattoo seems more like the work of a saboteur.
By Lance Landall
This poem was penned August 2016.
7. A Woman Commander In Chief?
No, a woman president isn’t what I personally would like to see,
But this having more to do with femininity and masculinity.
We hardwired, I believe, men built this way and women built that way, and this why
Girls naturally go for dolls and boys for trucks, unless things have gone askew,
Helped by those social engineers who anything but their own ideas pooh-pooh.
Therefore, a woman Commander-In-Chief hardly appeals to me, quite frankly,
Men the protectors of women, more rightly suited come the military.
A gun-toting woman barking out orders not my idea of a female,
Nor one leaning over plotting tables; she no princess in my fairytale,
Nor in the real world that I desire where there’s perfume, lace, coyness and ponytails.
You may laugh, but such tales are the product of that hardwired reality,
And thus certain encroachments not doing anything for femininity.
For what knight in his shining armour would want to rescue a female knight, who,
By the way, was just as tough and bold as he; such mocking masculinity.
It’s not a case of whether a woman can do the job or not, but should she?
Such hardly shoring up men as the guardians of her and society,
Who should be. Humanity best served when such is the case, but what do we see?
Women acting like warriors, taking to man’s natural territory.
Yes, once upon a time the sexes complimented each other, but not now,
It as if women have taken to those sensitive fields of men with a plough.
And some men even aiding these women who’ve developed the same cut and thrust,
And why that regard many men once had for females has bitten the dust.
And all this why men captaining the ship sits far more comfortably with me,
Certain roles nothing to do with worth or being but what fits naturally.
And hence why women now are coming down with ills once the lot of men, but hey,
A female who bears babies ordering troops to kill just doesn't gel, I say,
Like those butch women and effeminate men, or marriage counsellors who’re Gay.
No, hen peckers, women who wear the trousers and order men about, or shoot guns,
Aren’t how I like to remember my mum, who nestled, nursed and cuddled her sons.
Florence Nightingales more appealing than those Wonder Women heroines,
Who achieve some good via dubious means — Pow! — as if such makes up for their sins.
Women don’t prove their worth by copying men, nor by the same territory,
Their worth proven elsewhere and otherwise, and it just as great, undoubtedly.
And each sex best doing what compliments rather that what competes, for this way,
Nothing intrudes, assaults, threatens, undermines, belittles, rocks or goes astray.
By Lance Landall
8. When's A Woman Not A Woman?
I would mind that “girl power” thing, and that “girls can do anything” thing as well,’Cause it’s that damsel in distress that stirs the knight in any man, and his skill.
The gentler sex attracting, not women who can look after themselves, thank you,
They seemingly not in need of what any chivalrous man would think to do.
And therefore, out with Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Repunzel,
And those princes too, because its hands on the hips now and a glare that can chill.
“How dare you insult us!” As if we can’t take care of ourselves!” Yet come some threat,
Aren’t they glad there’s men around, and all the more so if they’re brave, tall and thickest.
Well, women can’t have it both ways, not if they want to be as rough and tough, and
Giving as good as they shouldn’t get, the kind of women that most men can’t stand.
They either damsels or not, looking for some knight or guarding their own castle,
Just as intriguing and beguiling as ever, or no longer casting that spell.
So, when’s a woman not a woman? When she’s speaking and acting like a man,
When she’s out of sync with femininity, those gentler ways and Nature’s plan.
When she’s competing rather than complimenting, when she’s just as loud and mean,
When she dumps those happy-ever-after stories that no longer fit the scene.
And then you just have a nightmare, a kind of Jeckle and Hyde scenario,
A planet where there’s confusion, a kind of updated Rocky horror show.
No soft lights and candlelit dinners, no kneeling to say, “Will you marry me?”
It every man and woman for themselves, a Darwinian society.
By Lance Landall
9. Amazon Women Belong In
The Amazon
Yelling offensively, giving the fingers, and why one man up and thumped one.
“How dare he hit a woman!” she cried, “What a coward!” and I shaking my head,
And thinking, women just don’t get it, ’cause after all, she’d just made him see red.
She had come up behind him tooting and flashing her lights, gesturing wildly,
Then he was overtaken, she leaning out the window acting as badly.
And once past, she throwing nails in front of his vehicle, incredulously,
And then at stop lights, she got out and leaned against her side door defiantly.
He slowly walked towards her and thumped her in the face — yes, no surprises there,
And as he walked back, her just-as-bad driver reversed at him, intentions clear.
Then off they went, he still behind them, this time she throwing a chisel; then came court,
And that “How dare he hit a woman!” when on herself, the whole thing she had brought.
His car window shattered, I must add.
She acting like a rude, macho lout, dangerously and irresponsibly,
A baby in the car too, the female driver acting just as shockingly.
That man not seeing a woman but a threat, adrenaline pumping within,
He riled by being made a target, his manhood as if kicked hard in the shin.
If men shouldn’t hit women, why would that be, given that no one should be hit,
Unless women are more tender, fragile creatures, which in this case didn’t fit.
She hardly acting like someone deserving of manly protection, love and care,
But a woman who thought she could take care of herself, thank you, and hence her sneer.
Yes, such behaviour hardly brings out the best in men, but makes their heart go cold,
They seeing no reason for special treatment, she as rough, tough, fiery and bold.
No femininity present, just a competitor, confused image, which
From a protective, chivalrous knight to an angry beast sees such a man switch.
Yes, he goaded by that macho “Come on” stance, hence why I feel compelled to say,
If such women want to act like men, they should be prepared to take it like men, ay.
And if they aren’t prepared to, they shouldn’t play with fire, and should act their age too,
’Cause Amazon women belong in the Amazon, just like chimps belong in the zoo.
Rightly or wrongly, she simply got what she deserved, her behaviour shocking,
And this why we all should listen to both sides of a story before knocking.
He vilified by the snapshot that caught his punch, there far more to the story
(As there usually is), and the judge seeing that, acting accordingly.
She acting outside of the law, insulting and challenging someone’s manhood,
Putting other road users at risk, including that man’s life, and there she stood,
Saying, “I want people to know I’m not a bad person,” and my head shaking,
’Cause such is not a path that someone truly good is going to be taking.
Some women want it both ways, they wanting to be treated like ladies, and yet,
They acting as bad as renegade men, and no wonder why trouble they get.
Men deserving it too when they err as he did, but she the cause of it all,
And thus her punishment being greater than his, the judge making the right call.
Oh, how deluded we often are, her act revealing her true condition,
And that she shouldn’t have behaved so, being her only grudging admission.
His life turned upside down, and she having no right to turn it upside down, yet,
Still wanting sympathy, and why from many people, sympathy she won’t get.
Once such wasn’t the way of women, but something’s changed that, and hence why we see
Females who’re a turn off, anything but a picture of femininity.
Or a Jekyll and Hyde scenario, one minute sweet, one minute crazy,
Hence why many men don’t treat them with the same thought and care, understandably.
By Lance Landall
10. The Power Of A Woman
The power of a woman is found in her uniqueness as a feminine creature,Her appointment higher than that of any pastor, president, judge or teacher.
She charged with the early moulding of characters, kids who’ll become women and men,
And therefore, should those children be farmed out to others and their influence, what then?
Yes, who knows, those early years critical, they the men and women of tomorrow,
Who’ll prove a blessing to society, or who’ll bring naught but pain and sorrow.
And hence that early training, that motherly influence that shines like a lighthouse,
And that in the order of things, carries far more weight than any roles of her spouse.
And therefore, when women covet any position men may hold, some role of theirs,
They seek a lesser honour than that given to them, the lesser of the two spheres.
And thereby, they sell their womanhood short, forsake their natural appointment, which
Can only but lower their status, and why such a precious role they shouldn’t switch.
Though men may be the protectors, and authority figure in the home, thus in sync,
Such doesn’t give them greater importance, this world hardly Males First And Foremost Inc.
Only roles varying in importance, though every role playing its part in life,
And hence those roles within the home that are better suited to a husband or wife.
No, I’m not saying that women should only raise kids and stay at home, but simply
That they shouldn’t feel lesser for doing so — it elevated territory.
And men not having that same touch here, their forte belonging to another sphere,
Which women shouldn’t pursue (though capable) at the expense of their higher sphere.
By Lance Landall
11. It's That Difference That Makes The Difference
Yes, it’s very clear to thinking men and women who don’t have crackpot agendas,That there’s a complete and utter welcome difference between the two genders.
A man how he is, a woman how she is, and both hardwired for different roles,
The man for fatherhood, the woman for motherhood, and those halves making wholes.
Each complimenting the other, kids looking at each parent in different ways,
The father manly, the mother womanly, which Nature itself loudly conveys.
It having nothing to do with nurture, but everything to do with design,
And who would want it any other way? Not me! And nor this girly wife of mine!
So men, bear your manhood proudly; and women, bear your womanhood proudly too,
So that the gender distinctions and their uniqueness always be kept in view.
Neither overshadowing the other, but working in sync, like lock and key,
Acknowledging the beauty of masculinity and femininity.
Kids not meant to have two dads or two mums, but one of each, and nor missing one,
Nature once again shouting so, ones children rightly hearing, “Hi Dear,” “Hi Hun.”
Earth having gone mad, exchanged order for confusion, the wishes of a few,
Who want the majority to hold their same deluded, dysfunctional view.
It’s all about Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, nor some sexless wasteland,
Nature knowing nothing of some Jekyll and Hyde, but two sexes that were planned.
There no third sex or anything else sex, like certain fools would have us believe,
But one big umbilical cord that stretches right back to an Adam and Eve.
By Lance Landall
12. Go With What Nature Intended Be
Given the naturalness of masculinity and femininity,And the beauty and complementariness of such, it’s very sad to see
A person that from a short distance has you puzzled as to their gender, and
Hoping it’s not as it a appears, no offence intended here, you understand.
In other words, it’s very sad to see a woman looking like a man, a male,
Or a man looking like a female, and thus your fears being right on the nail.
Oh, how women should look like women, and men like men, enhancing their gender,
Not degrading their gender, ’cause an appealing difference was meant to be,
And lest one might offend, though unintentionally.
By Lance Landall