At Me Too (And Sarah Palin)

With Little Feat honky tonk rock'n'blues

playing in the background,

trying to remember to forget

to forward-up the human noise,

and I take off my shoes

since I can't think unless my feet are free

And now that I apparently have the attention of some,

I will follow the first rule of journoism one-o-one

and make my case about what is, yes, serious tissue

In my life, I have been no angel, 

but my mother raised me to be a gentleman,

open doors for women, say please and thank you,

and have chosen to run rather than to hit

more often than is recommended by my witch doctors

However, during the course

of a long and strange life

regarding matters of the heart,

where luck has not been my lady,

I have been laughed at for wearing braces

And my doggy got run over.

And I can see us driving out into the desert

where we buried him, and the radio playing,

"King of the Road."

There's more. 

Do I share it?

Do I dare it?

Do I dare to show my hairline?

My bare head scalped?

I'm hollow, man.

Here's the news about why I am so alone: 

My first girlfriend broke up with me on the phone

while I was lying in bed in the hospital sick to my stomach

from detached retina surgery,

dreaming of many all-seeing eyes

looking at me at once,

later saying I was damaged goods

Hah, prophetic. I'm so pathetic.

These seer women and their ways

In later years I have been cheated on,

beaten on, body shamed, stalked, 

had my identity stolen,

had my genitals played

with like sex was some joke

to play a game of chicken with;

Chased out of the house

with a crowbar, like Tiger,

had my eyes nearly scratched out,

my glasses ripped off my face ...

and the joke to my boss was,

"You should see the other guy"

I kept silent, and in sadness, sighed
could barely admit a girl could do this
to my bruised black blue sky

Oh man, when I was taught not to hit a woman,

well, turning the other cheek sometimes it means

also running away as fast as I could ...

and I was quick, dead-set to get away good,

pursued by a car crashing into my truck's rear bumper

all of the way to the police station,

only to hear a false claim

that I was doing something wrong there,

when in fact the person of interest

parked behind me, thus giving the police officer

a good clue about what was really going on

And so I kept moving on

Moving through each room

with an eye on the escape route
a clever McGyver on the run

Usually, no matter what, the cops just assume it's you,

poor you, pick-pocketed, belittled, flamed by e-mail

by strangers on social media you, lied about in a court setting you,

this trial of the blood rising, never ending you,

chased out of a karaoke bar for ordering water you,

in a female snap-dragon incident this summer you,

face-slapped, punched, and generally, more recently,

treated like I was the Trumpy Dumpfy true,

his crotch-grabbing

 know nothin' bout science

or boundaries self, whew ...

But ladies (sorry for being so patronizing)

so asymmetrically politically incorrect,

all of us guys aren't like that

hideous example of our unfair sex

We just seem to be the most available targets right now

for your completely justified anger and disgust

Meanwhile, my heart is a hole, my body gone to rust

And if you for one moment think women

are incapable of the same kind of injustice

and two-way street violence that we men are, 

then may I finalize this rant

with the examples of Joan of Arc,

who I nonetheless admire,

Margaret Thatcher, no better than Hillary, see?

And the Chinese pirate Cheng I Sao,

who ruthlessly terrorized the entire nation of China

with such terrifying effectiveness and blood-thirsty cruelty,

the Chinese couldn't float a boat for a quarter-century

... You get the picture ...

I don't buy the scripture, sure,

but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,

and you better not fool mother nature,

we've all been warned 

Not to mention numerous media characters

of evil spider women who plot all kinds of mayhem,

all very bad examples in our living rooms,

but who are loved nonetheless

Can I buy myself a broom for Christmas
so I can just sweep away this mess?

To the best of my recollection,

everything I have ever done was in self-defense
in this wild man's wilderness

But there is a sea-change now

and that's the lemonade in the making

of the current meadowlark's lemon

There is a more evolved species of male

who actually doesn't view each woman

they meet as a sex object, who listens

and is attentive and is more often than not

inspired by them ... So please pardon my fart

I am just a creature caught between two centuries

with no choice left but to create my achy breaky art

Not my choice. May we all move forward

and get right down to the fact that,

like all else in these Egregorian days,

the real monsters are pitting us against each other

so we burn our energies just this way,

so off they go, running their

 sick perverted greed-filled

hateful mass-murdering sex-traffic rackets

without notice or communal strength

to resist them ... Surely, this all could

 have been better said in a song
but I'm out of cigarettes for the nerves packets  

Please forgive me. Obviously, #Me Too,

I'm the PEE-T-S-Ed-City citizen poster child

of your sugar mountain

along the sweet and sour Hill Street blues

Bein' careful out there,

based on your pool cues

Sure, I've been a bastard

but my lovin' soul ain't alabaster

I'm a slow changing boy

into a man under the bad Master

with a sharp tongue, quick wit,

willing agent but I will run from it

since I'm weary of the fury,

your wanna have fun fits

your desire for nests and security

and your double-standard fists
as you check on my income
to see if my numbers fail to fi

Please, just dance with me once

I've grown old from this exile

and you don't even know

the half of it,

my rolling on the floor

like some settled-in textile
looking for the penthouse panty hose
dust bunnies in need
of Mona Lisa's lingering sad smile

Turn this song into a letter

let me seal it with a kiss

because I'm sure we can get along

and run into those Don Quixote dreams

riding that windmill Ferris wheel

at the bad circus of love

going home to share

the kind of equal rights bond

I'm always thinking of