A FEW GOOD MEN

You absolutely can love
someone you have never seen
cause the man I thought I loved once
wasn’t the one I was in love with.
Cause I thought that he was something
that in fact he never will.
I made up a better person
than the one he turned up to be.

In my mind he was a hit
but I’m glad I got over it
Because now I’m free to take
gifts that life throws in my way.
And I’m hopeful I can see
that there are angels like this.
And I hope that men won’t fear
for their love not being real.

Because feeling all that passion
before touching, before a kiss;
without seeing, without taking,
that will be the worthiest thing.

So denying such a feeling,
turning back, running away;
hiding behind known fake comfort,
that would be the biggest mistake.

To Angelnet on behalf of Maki. (Actually I am responsible for the poem, and let’s make clear that I’m talking about feelings and videogame dolls, so no real people is involved here. Mercè)

This is for those that have read the Mrs. Murphy article (“Die for love”), and they think I’m being unfair with men. And is not that I’m angry because they won’t listen or see me (or my very well-meaning friends), but because they won’t listen or see themselves, or even worse, just listen to the wrong words, some of them literally to death.

So this is for men, especially some young ones I love and mean the best. I know you’re trying, and so are we.

So for Elliot and Edgar, if you think that I’m deeply hurt and disappointed by your genre, and that make me have a subjective point of view I want to explain myself, and stick up to men. I wish I had a safe guide to walk in the adults’ world, but it doesn’t exist. So I’m talking about manipulative women which, believe me, I’ve known so far.

Time ago, seeing that movie called “Wicker man”, I felt deeply hurt by the end of the film. For those that don’t know about it, it’s a fair man that ends up by being incinerated alive by his own (just a few years old), daughter, in front of a bunch of wicked manipulative women, calling him at the top of their voices a slacker.

And some men may be (those that don’t pick up their toasts?), but he wasn’t. And for no reason but evilness (or maybe just wrong beliefs), those women manipulated him to get there, and become the very unfair victim of their madness.

Not that hard, but the manipulative woman exists. And that is because in that still discriminative world we dwell, they think they have no way out to survive but manipulation.

And surprisingly enough, they get what they want (it doesn’t matter if there’s no benefit for anybody, not even themselves, in the process). I know because I’ve been a painful witness of some men’s unhappiness.

And I don’t know what else to say about manipulative women, except that I don’t want to be one of them. The way they knit the trap with empoisoned fake words and lies makes me sick. But the reason why I don’t wanna be one of them is mostly because they’re not happy. What leads them is fear, an inner feeling that they’re weak, and they can never be happy, because they can’t stand themselves.

I wander why these women in the movie, and the less bloody in real life, don’t meet with those men that prefer hitting to talking. It looks to me like a more fair conversation. But it seems that it’s often good men/bad women and on the contrary.

For some other women this is a painful thing to fight: our beloveds running fast straight to the wall, losing perspective, and crushing against it despite our desperate struggle to warn them. Never mind if the wall is a manipulative woman or anything else in that consumer society.

That may be the reason that I love screenwriting, because I think that you guys need an edited language. You’re direct, often more honest in your primary instincts, straight to the point… I feel like you get lost on the ornamental, that women tend to use so much. Am I right?

And as I’m ageing, I feel like I’m coming to a place where my own language is getting more male. I hope from that place I can find a way to tell you what I have in mind, and that is although that passion and hormones are so dazzling and leading (believe me, I know), you must keep your eyes and ears wide open.

Be loyal to yourselves, and learn from your mistakes. This is the price you have to pay, for being young. Something nobody talks about when they sell the wonders of youth in commercials. But don’t worry although it seems tough sometimes, life is beautiful. You will reach a point where the past harm will be helpful.

And as magnificent, wise, beautiful (outside and inside) women, keep popping up all around me, and as an informatics technician can write such a sensitive poem (nothing to do with ones and zeros), I still have faith that men also will end up by listening, one day or another. If nothing else, I trust the few to become a lot and you both to be one of them