Teach Your Sons


Teach your sons not to stare,

and not your daughters

what to wear.

Teach your sons how to cook,

and not to judge someone,

by their look.

Teach your sons the meaning of whore

and that it’s okay

not to settle a score.

Teach your sons how to touch

and not your daughters

to worry so much.


Teach your sons,

that boys will not be boys,

and that if they don’t behave,

you’ll take away their toys.




There were two William sisters.

One’s dead, and the other married.

So now there’s none! 

Get Up!

If you stumble and fall,

do not let the dirt hug you

do not let it lull you

with its false sense of comfort.

Hypnotize you 

with its warmth.

For when you come to

it will be too late.

The blood already seeped

into the earth’s bowels.

The wounds already healed

leaving behind grotesque scars

and patterns.

On your being 

And your soul

It will be too late.

Your friends will forget 

Your enemies  will triumph

All the while 

you lay on the ground

wallowing in self pity!

So get up! Run!

Walk! Limp! Drag yourself!

heave not a sigh of relief 

Until,you reach the finish line

Until you hear victory’s bugle 

For not trying 

is a far greater loss

than losing itself !

Daughter not a Son 

Wear a skirt!

Walk don’t run! 

Let not your eyes flirt

You’re a daughter not a son.

Remember your place,

In the kitchen of course!

Make pretty your face 

Use words, not force.

Learn the arts,

not mathematics!
Open your hearts

Don’t be pragmatics 
Beware of fun!

You’re a daughter not a son.

Want you to want me 

This might sound clichéI want you to stay


not persuasion

should be your friend

or this will end 

Apologize by yourself

when you forget which shelf

the coffee pot goes

Or we will be foes

It might look trivial

let there be no denial

I want you to care

so we can fare

Through thick and thin

Together for the win

sounds like a commercial

But this is a rehearsal 

For the rest of our life

If I’m to be your wife

I want you to want me

So why can’t you see?