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I've included some of my poetry for a couple of reasons. First is to show how important it is to integrate the Feminine into our adolescent boys. Although boys worldwide are raised to be tough, part of the initiatory process is to help reintegrate the Feminine to temper the Masculine. This, of course, creates a healthy and balanced individual.

Secondly is to offer glimpse at how the Feminine can be used to HEAL the Masculine, and that it is never too late to allow the Feminine, or anima, to reappear. Adolescent boys are too often removed from the healthy masculine, which I believe is deeply associated with our 50% divorce rate and other male related cultural problems. And thirdly, I never ask adolescents to do something that I won't do or haven't done myself.

Most of the following poetry came about as I struggled to bring the Feminine back into my adult male life, and to integrate it and overlay it onto all my cultural boy training. Too many teen boys are ashamed and fearful of the Feminine, because it seems challenging to the Masculine. Some of the most common male teen insults, or disrespects, involve attacking the other boy's masculinity (i.e. girly-man, queer, pussy, fag, you're gay, etc.) It's critical that our teen boys come to trust the Feminine will help make them better men, have better relationships with girls and women, and will make them caring and compassionate fathers.

Many boys, even the most difficult, often write poetry to express their emotions, and I strongly encourage that. The following poems are in the sequence I wrote them over a couple of years, with the notable exception of the first, Trade Secrets, which expresses the dilemma I faced when I first "discovered" poetry, and how the Feminine paradigm battled against 40 years of cultural training. I apologize in advance if some of the terminology I this first poem offends anyone, but it was ultimately important to be honest about where I come from. Enjoy….

Trade Secrets

I’m not supposed to write this poem.

I grew up in Nevada, hunting and camping.

I worked in warehouses with other boys and men.

I can do Monday Night Football, including the mandatory Budweiser.

I hated Howard Cosell and secretly loved Muhammed Ali.

I never read poetry, nor would I ever consider writing it.

Might as well watch ballet, or listen to opera.

Instead it was: Quick, throw me the ball, I’m open.

Let’s go get a beer (or 12), and a girl (or two).

If I want culture, I’ll get wine with a cork.

Poetry, they said, is for sissies. Besides, I don’t understand it.

Instead they gave me the sports section and the comics.

I’ve lived in the land of Sports Illustrated,

And blessed them when they came out with swimsuit issues.

I’ve been to Field & Stream, Golf Digest and Penthouse.

They made me read some poetry when I was younger,

But I made sure they saw I wasn’t interested.

I knew somebody once who wrote poetry, but I never told anyone.

I may have to take it up, though,

This girl I saw in Playboy says poetry is a turn on.

Poetry didn’t flow with my life.

I couldn’t find words to rhyme with pizza or cheeseburger.

I’ve lived where every other word is a swear word,

And if you had a problem with that I could probably kick your ass.

Where I came from poetry didn’t get you laid, two hours of begging did.

The food of poetry is wine and cheese and bread.

Where I grew up, you wouldn’t dare eat pizza with a fork and

You can’t cut a sandwich in half no matter how big it is.

You never drink beer from a glass,

And you eat the hottest peppers with a smile.

Poetry allows and encourages one to cry.

In my old world, if you cry, you die.

Stop that crying right now or I’ll give you something to really cry about.

Go ahead and keep crying like a baby if you want to act like a sissy, .

If you’re going to cry, I’m not going to play with you anymore.

We managed to sneak in some acceptable poetry.

Two, four, six, eight! Who do we appreciate?

Your eyes are like starlit pools of something or other.

The important part was, you couldn’t really mean it,

Or enjoy it.

Poetry teaches the art of communication between the sexes.

But we asked: Does a hamburger come with that shake?

If you loved me you’d let me.

Can I buy you another beer?

Does that mean a blow-job’s out of the question?

Poetry explores the deep relationship between men and women.

But I heard women are here for the taking,

that ‘no’ really means ‘yes’, and the more the better.

The perfect woman, they said, after great sex,

Turns into a six-pack and a good cigar.

The erotic and the exotic can be touched through poetry.

Man, she had legs up to here!

I’ll leave the curtains open so you can watch me do her.

Bet you she’s got brown nipples vs. pink ones.

Fuck her if she can’t take a joke.

Where I grew up, poetry could get you kicked out of the club.

Lately I share male secrets with women.

Not the usual secrets, but the unspoken ones I am

Not supposed expose, like the fact that

I’m not supposed to write poetry.

9/1/94

With that introduction to the world of de-feminizing boys, let's move on. Remember, these are written to the Feminine within me, not to some person in the real world. That anima projection is a midlife crisis, projected onto a woman rather than being integrated within:

Restless Night

I went to sleep, searching for your scent in the clothes you had worn.

I wasn’t sure if what I thought was you was really you.

The search was bliss.

8/3/94

Restless Night

I went to sleep, searching for your scent in the clothes you had worn.

I wasn’t sure if what I thought was you was really you.

The search was bliss.

8/3/94

Meeting the Divine Anima

As I sat,

Growing and closing at the same precious moment,

I withdrew and I reached out.

They backed me into a corner, and my

Heart hid inside of you.

It lives there now, sharing space between

My fortress and your love.

Balanced precariously, closed in and

Peeking out;

A little boy finds solace in a woman's heart.

8/4/94

Pain is a Doorway

I touched your face, and you touched my heart.

I looked into your eyes, and you saw my soul.

You gave me your heart, and with that came

the power to break mine.

I'm captivated with someone I can't keep,

Who makes me feel love and pain, and for the

first time, makes me feel.

8/5/94

For more information, contact Bret.

Last Updated Feb. 19, 2012