We are not men any longer.
Men rode rough seas and rougher horses—into dark places they brought their callous human light. We cower and tremble in silent —and all the time more loudly— petition of kindness, grace, acceptance, hoping our shaking or our shaking voices will garner us safety from even the slightest shades cast by the dimmest suns. No we are not men any longer.
Our women strengthen themselves. In our dishonor and submission to false authority, they must. If her protectorate becomes the faceless force of state and your men are chosen for compliance, preferring plebeian prosperity to true vigor, if he softens his edge to a dull blade, if he signals he’ll only feign war, if he is too fatted, a danger only unto himself, a mumbler and fat-pursed courtier, a flatterer—who then would protect her? And thus the strong tyrant comes with her invitation across the threshold. No we are not men any longer.
Our boys, impulses feminized, every teacher a wrist, every moral a secret disguise to chain him while the girl flows freely—a girl who because he will not be be able, will not be able herself to love him in, through, his weakness, his learned helplessness. Kill the quarterback and laud the leader of cheers for equality and hair dye. No we are not men any longer.
Our cities, littered with human garbage and their refuse, millions on the brink of joining; our cities burn and rot with fowl smell and carrion awaiting the early morning searing smog hour. Statues toppled in service of should-be asylum patients and steer. In faggot fear and weariness of wailing women, wraiths of their mothers, who should prefer to cower more, our men let all of this happen. No we are not men any longer.
Our authorities author exactly none of their bills, absentees in our hollow hallowed halls. Elected by their peers and cronies, thin-chinned skeletons of Ebeneezer all, keep balances and favors in black books blacker than their tarred hearts. Men did this. No we are not men any longer.
Our companies: We are no longer forming companies of troops, but corporations, bodies of drones, but of weaker will and lessor vigor and higher desire for satiation—for there is no world left to conquer and so we must down breed the conquer and demean the conquest. We have become incorporated —‘into the body’, that is— we form a hive, drones in training, and we perform all of the honey dances madly, but for reasons we do not understand, magnets of modernity pulling at our senses, and for fake nectar too. No we are not men any longer.
Our teachers teach molestation and sing praise to Sodom. In the name of sameness and the death of the striver, the standout (unless she is a he and sure of they’re confusion: in all cases a ward of the state to-be) this factory of false promise promotes its daddy’s forever stale propaganda. Forever they are ruined. Men did not dane to teach. No we are not men any longer.
Men of old, rough men, who murdered and in bloody victory, carried the best spearer overhead and handed him over to the shapeliest young girl for holy savaging; these men sit in soft chairs now, behind steering wheels of fast cars who go only the speed limit. They sit atop boards of direction twisting hypotheses around their mustaches —were they able still to grow them. Yes they have conquered, but which species have they done in? Not one has stood, hard chest to weak shills and charlatans. Now, we will all suffer for a time.
No we are not men any longer.