A robber of mothers, wives, and womanhood.

A destroyer of the feminine physique.

A plague that can also strike men too.

This insipid disease needs to be cured.

Never wanting to need a pink ribbon again.

Never needing to take strides for miles and money.

Never having to don a pink tutu to draw attention.

That is the true goal of what we fight for.

But it hasn’t disappeared despite efforts.

Advancements made, but still some succumb.

Let these mothers raise their children;

Let grandkids know their grandparents;

Let women grow old with their partners.

Disappear from this earth, never to harm another chest again.

Breast Cancer, give us our boobies back!

The sweet caress of your touch,

Gentle yet strong, but not threatening,

Relaxes my shoulders and melts my stress away.

The softest brush of your kiss

In the crook of that spot on my neck

Ignites a fire I can not easily put out.

Why do you do this to me,

My precious imp? Teasing me just so.

You turn me from ice to a hot spring

With just the right press of your lips,

Starting a blaze that will burn long,

And it’s embers will drift through the ages.

Are you a double dipper?

No, I’m not talking about when you dunk your tostado chip in the salsa twice.

I’m talking about a remote worker or almost fully remote worker, playing two companies, working two full time positions all the while hiding them from each other…and trying to fit it all in an 8-hour workday.

Guess what. You suck at your jobs. That’s right. One if not both companies see you as a poor performer.

Why?

You fail to show up to meetings.

You check out during meetings and worktime doing work for the other company.

Your team is constantly asking for you to pay attention.

You’re missing your deadlines.

The quality of your work is half-assed.

The rest of the team is picking up the slack.

…and they are mad at you!

You are forgetting assignments because you are overloaded.

Management sees the overload, but is questioning why with such a small workload.

Side gigs are great, but when they interfere with the real money maker, you have to decide…or the company will!

Does man truly have dominion over this world?

Over the plants and animals, the living things.

Leaving the weather and other-worldly things to God or the lesser gods?

Why do some need to exert such control?

Is it really the civilized thing to do?

Shouldn’t we really live our lives and

Let others live theirs?

Sure, protection from each other is needed;

I am not saying anarchy is any better;

Such is the folly for survival of the fittest.

But to build, we seem to first destroy.

Some insist that all life is precious,

Then commit wars in its name.

When the end of life is too painful,

We take our pets to the vet to do the humane thing;

But we allow for humans to suffer until the very end despite pleas for relief,

We take the rights of mothers away until the child is born;

But what if that child would still die,

Suffering through it’s only moments of life?

No, we must hope for a miracle, one that rarely, if ever, comes.

How can we call ourselves humane?

All because man believes he has dominion of this world.

All because someone in power is busy playing God.

Maybe one day we’ll figure this mess out.

I just hope it isn’t too late.

Tensions run high as the war starts.

Men with their subservient women applaud

Not understanding what they unleashed.

Soon, even the subservient will pay a price,

If no one steps up to stop the reversion of time.

What will be the next pillar to fall?

Treat me like a woman,

Tease me, hug me, talk to me too.

Have a little interest in me,

And I’ll build my world to include you.

One moment gently touch me, show you care,

Another time, throw me down and pull my hair.

Read my moods, or ask how I feel.

Both work great if you are sincere.

I’ll open my world to you when I feel love,

And I’ll stand by you when push comes to shove.

Isn’t that what it’s about, being there?