DEAR DIARY (Mother Nature)
I should have seen this coming – oh the guilt!
I nurtured each of evolution’s steps.
But now I beat my breast – the milk is spilt!
Till this Great Age shall close, I am regret!
I see it now; without the animal
no cerebral extension manifests.
But male potency hears just one call:
the one that I, upon the fool, impressed!
I thought I might slip wisdom in his mind
but reckoned not, with puberty’s advance.
His reconfigured brain: high-culture blind
reached sexual potency – and off he pranced!
As if that weren’t enough, the Bell Curve boob
that I contrived, to give genetic spread
brought forth some – ‘untoward’ – and there’s the rub
the WoeMen: driven women, wished me dead!
They festered in their culture-driven role
until two wars sent men-folk out of sight.
They saw the way now open to their goal
and mannish in demeanour, honed their might.
I watched men shun these Harpies; give short shrift
then WoeMen rounded on their softer kin.
With single-minded physical assault
they ruptured normal life, to force a ‘win’.
My men found women, no more: yin to yang.
But under WoeMan jackboot, as of rote
no longer up for have and hold (and bang)
thus, soon man self-demoted to a scrote.
I am undone: my archetypes defiled.
‘Mother’ and ‘Nature’ have no standing now.
I’ll grow enormous udders – bovine, stalled.
Aspire to be: another bloody cow.