I’m a man, a bloke, a geezer, a lad
So why should I be feeling so sad?
We are supposed to be in charge,
Lording it over our other halves.
If you think that is the extent of your role;
Watch TV all day, hog the remote control,
Take the lion’s share of the duvet at night,
When feminism comes, you’ll get a fright.
It makes me feel quite emasculated
Now that women are emancipated.
If, on the dole, I can no longer provide
It is such a blow to my manly pride.
Of what, exactly, are you afraid?
What’s your problem, not getting laid?
Is there a deficiency in your trouser department?
So I am put in your tidy, little compartment?
But you are good at housework and cooking and such
It’s your God-given role, your woman’s touch.
To be quiet, and pretty and do as you’re told,
Not to nag, complain, berate and scold.
I slave all day behind busy shop tills.
I work to pay the household bills.
Do you have a problem with that?
Would you prefer a meek doormat?
Look at Alexandra Kollantai
She could raise a worldwide hue and cry
Against patriarchy, sexism, brutality,
Artificial, capitalist plurality.
I don’t buy your consumerist shit
I’ve got a brain and a sharper wit
“Men are from Mars, women from Venus”
Just because I lack a penis,
An accident of hormones in the womb,
Doesn’t mean I have to clean and scrub and quietly fume.
There is more to life than a cock and balls.
To differentiate you boys from us girls.
We share the same problems,
We have the same goals.
Equality – for one and all.
Old International Women’s Day
Has been betrayed, it’s not the same.
LeicestHERday is such a shame.
Politicians have conveniently forgotten
History of struggle against conditions rotten.
The courageous matchgirls’ strike
Who told the boss to take a hike,
Who fought against cruel phossy jaw,
Who weren’t afraid to break the law,
‘Gainst exploitation of Bryant and May,
For worker’s rights and decent pay.
The hypocrisy of Liz Kendall
Is enough to send you quite mental.
She spouts on about women’s rights
While council workers are in her sights.
Labour Leicester passes savage cuts –
Thousands sacked, no ifs or buts.
Thousands of families, on the dole;
She has no compassion,no socialist soul.
Reforming the system, their timid goal.
But don’t touch my MP’s pay,
Let us fiddle expenses and stay
Comfortably afloat, on our Parliamentary gravy boat
With silk cushions, duck house, and country moat.
I hope you enjoy reading my poems, and, as always, all proceeds will go to help build the fightback against corporate political parties, to build a voice for the millions, not the millionaires.
To find out more about my politics, visit the website of the Committee For A Workers’ International, which is engaged in struggle in around 50 countries worldwide.