El Macho

He struts right up to meet her, he knows the right maneuvers.
He'll tell her she's an angel, he's an expert at this ruse.
He'll talk about his prowess, he knows just how to move her.
But will she take the chance again of feeling she's been used?

If he could look her in the eye, and let her know he cares,
But he can't keep his eyes off the grapefruits 'neath her sweater.
if he could ask her out to eat, the tab between them shared,
But no, it's football night with the guys, there's nothing better.

Although he has no palace, no kingdom or a queen,
He's feeling pretty special, wants to show the world his power.
No matter what the contest, he's pretty tough and can be mean.
Even if outnumbered, he'd be cool, not one to cower.

Never meek in manner, that's for maids and secretaries.
He loves to boast about his many sins and harlotries.3
Predictable in every way, his fascia never varies.
He's the trumpet in the band that plays discordantly.

You say this charmer's only to be found south of the border?
In sultry climes, well yes, but take another look around.
In academia, in industry, in the arts of highest order
He's everywhere in science and in politics abounds.

'Say, what's the beef? Aren't we all progressing here on Earth?
Well, true, of all achievers the majority are men.
But women get to tend the house, are privileged to give birth.
Can't she just be satisfied with holding up her end?'

If she ever had a thought, best keep it to herself
And if she had a talent, better not to let it show.
If she had a special gift, best keep it on the shelf
And if she had discovered truth, best not let others know.

The gentle gender always had to fight to be received.
Until most recently only a handful found a voice,
Elizabeth, Christina, Edna and the Emilys.
The critics said well done, but still the men are our first choice.

They were labeled as reclusive, the village oddity,
The spinster and the maiden aunt were little more than freaks.
They wrote incognita to hide from brazen mockery
Unfruitful of the womb, their possibilities were bleak.

Then one fine Persian morning, out to change the paradigm
She came, The Pure One, scholar, mystic poet and a teacher.
Her actions were magnanimous, her guidance was divine.
She set the modern stage with her unveiling of the future.

From her crown of accolades, the jewel of martyrdom she picked
Her dawning light so blinding, it had to be suppressed.
She left the planet reeling, an unforeseen tectonic shift
So altogether chastised, yet so completely blessed.

Following in her path a new creation would arise.
She would be educated, would be eager, unabated,
The weaker wing now functioning, would let the eagle fly.
Seeing herself an equal part, she'd never be dissuaded.

She donned the mail to battle in defense of her convictions.
She sent her sons to martyrdom, refused their souls to barter.
She traveled every continent, ignoring all restrictions.
She kissed the noose that silenced her and made of her a martyr.

She will contribute to the Plan and work wholeheartedly.
She will survive imprisonment, will live to lead anew.
She will cry out against the scourge of war and tyranny.
She will raise up the youth to know there's nothing they can't do.

So what does all of this portend for them that are less fair?
Don't worry, they're protected and nothing will they lose.
And if their attitudes remain archaic and unaware?
They'll be forgiven, even loved, by those they would abuse.