Our young men today
They are all so gay.
With his happy ways,
All day long he plays.
And though the best of life
He refusing to take a wife
For him to love true.
What am I to do?
Starting from his dress,
In time he regressed
To before infancy -
And needs broughtupsy!
And his pants, too small
Should be brought up! See
His waist has lost its
Place, somewhere in time.
Now a lowly puppet,
He follows the crime-makers,
Life-takers, gang-bangers,
Most of them, only fakers.
His hip, has hopped too low,
Because some old men
Refuse to grow.
Copyright © 2009 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem