I Am Tired Of My Sex

Based on a poem written by my brother, Tim Grace:

I’m tired of my sex
The flecks and the defects
Of us prized bulls
We filter life through our testicles
And have so much cause to celebrate
Come back with us we’ll copulate
With you as a group
As a troop, to recoup the manlihood
That’s draining through the sieve
The neighbourhood
footy club night to give
Our 12 year olds a crack at the strippers
Welcome little kippers this is how real men do it
You’re laughing now but you’ll come to rue it

I’m ashamed of my gender
There’s blood on the fender
Of our car careening
But we’re preening the feathers
On our rotten skulls
Drowning together
In rotten hulls
Sodden and bloated from a lifetime of floating
On a rising tide of online porn
Hardcore the norm
Cum, shaved, suck

Vocab stuck
Early in young repertoires
Chicks in the abattoirs
I want to keep you down
Don’t know why I hate you
Just get on your knees now
And beg for it like they do

I see it I want to act it
Your protest counteracted
Surround you
Corral you
Again and again
Alone and with my friends
We’re elite, we’re the Sharks
We’ll keep you in the dark
Make loveless sparks
Film it for a lark
Hammering anvils
In the spiritual landfill
You’re here now you want it
So lay still

I’m sick of us men
Follow the trail of semen
Though I can’t quite say it’s just them
And not I who could be twisted

Hard to resist it
A faint ember to blister
The clean heart
Supposed to assist a
Sacred fire in the chamber
Not a pyre to claim her

I can’t separate from my brothers

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