As I go ‘balls to the wall’ writing material for 2 books and 2 new workshops — who’s Hypomanic — I’m also shutting down my personal blog (www.LyleTLachmuth.com).

So, up to year end 2009, I will repost here some of my favourite posts from the past 5 years.

Let’s start with my “Gubernator” rant:

Confessions of A “Girly Man”

WARNING: This post contains explicit sexual and vulgar language.

WOW! It was way back in 2004 that the Governator coined the term, “Girly Man” as a put down of those opposed to his economic slash and burn approach.

I’ll not explore the psychology here involved … as in the Governator’s really in the closet, etc.

But, let’s look at who resents us so-called “Girly Men”.

It’s Dicks with Sticks, Dicks with Cars, Dicks who think they have big dicks but really have no IQ, no EQ, and have ’small balls’ (to quote a line from “The House of D”) .

OK .. I lied. I will look at the psychology of it.

As Freud might say, “Vat ve haf here is a clear case of projection.” His pal, Carl Jung, would add that it was a projection of “The Shadow.” No my dears not The Shadow of 40s Radio but that part of our psyche which we deny and disown.

If you’ve ever browsed the newstand, as I often do, you will see countless Dick Magazines: Maxim, Tatoo, Hustler, Playboy (which I read for the articles .

What these magazines have in common are scantily clad young women; in very strange poses that emphasize their tits and asses; hot cars; big cigars; and boys toys galore.

Nothing wrong with cars or young women.

It’s the objectification of them that IS a problem.

Ya see the Boyz from the Hood objectify womyns cause them females scare the shit out of them!

So, they hypersexualize them: they make them fuck objects and use the magazines as stroke books. Not that there’s anything per se wrong with masturbation. It’s the attitude these boyz have toward women that sucks.

I know because I was one of these boys — when I was freaking 15!

I treated girls like sex objects — the surge of Testosterone drove me nearly mad. And, until I discovered the joys of self loving, I tried to seduce every girl I dated. It wasn’t about what they wanted. It was about what I needed .. a good fuck!

Eventually, I outgrew that phase — well, except for those moments in the morning when my erection kicks in and my limbic system goes on high alert.

The point is that as a young, horny male I lusted after girls YET at the same time thought I was gay.

Why?

Because, I did not fit with society’s image or my father’s image of what it meant to be a man! I still remember the day my dad told me, “You need to go in the army. They’ll make a man of YOU!” RIGHT! Like the man he became — NOT!

It took me a lot of years to realize that my “Girly” nature had much to do with the fact that I was a Feeling Type male (think Psychological Type). To warp John Gray’s book title, I was a Man from Venus not Mars. Which reminds me of a joke: If Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, where do lawyers come from?” Answer… ta da, drum roll .. “Uranus!”

My Feeling dominant step-mother keyed into the fact that I liked to do ‘girly’ things like baking, sewing, and needle point. She taught my twin sister and I to cook, clean, bake, sew, do the laundry, etc. I seemed to have a natural talent for it whereas my poor sister can’t even make Jello.

So, eventually I came to understand that I get along better with women. In fact, 95% of my Facebook Friends are female. And, many of my male BFFs are gay.

I happen to like my Feminine half. It is my Eternal Fem that inspires my writing, my poetry, my painting, and my creativity.

So, AHnold … fuck you and your labels.

If you like this poem, LINK to it, please.

What is my destiny
that calls me so?

What is the expression
that wants to write
from me?

I hear the echoes
of a distant voice
but
am uncertain
how to transform
that voice
to action,
to make it real.

If I knew
what wanted expression
it would be
an urging
to follow one’s bliss.

This sense that
somehow
there are lessons
I can share.

If only
I knew
how to articulate
those

— oh, and
get paid!

If you like this poem, LINK to it, please.

(C) 2007 Lyle T. Lachmuth, ALL Rights Reserved

My friend’s struggles with who she was and what ‘the corporation’ expected inspired the following poem.

Recently, some of my female clients seem to be struggling with similar issues related to expressing their feminine energy. This poem is dedicated to the two Kathys and everyone who struggles with expressing their unique self.

The Corporate Woman

 Navy Pinstripe ice cube shell
Hiding who you really are.
Stolid, firm, corporate being.
Heartless bitch or so it seems.

 Sterile, stainless, smooth exterior
Smoothering, seething passion’s fire
Fliny eyes, uncaring glance beam
Warmth inside goes scarcely seen.

 Feelings bottled up inside
Escaping in moments seldom seen.
Unseemly, not important things
Yet, these are really you.

 Who can really see you?
Who in fact dares?
Frightened by your fierce visage
Masking your tender soul.

 None dares to search beyond
The frigid, icy image you project
To peer into the depths of you
And, see what cowers there.

 A warm, caring Spirit,
Smiling, joyful heart, passionate being.
All of these you are, dear friend
If you’d but the courage to show!

© 1984 Lyle T.
Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved

 
To
where?

 Must
I
choose?

 Standing
here
has
but
little
meaning
to
the journey.

 In
hesitation
lies
not
the
future.

 Though
I
pause,
briefly
wonder.

 Remembering:
the
roads
taken
have
me
brought
to
this
very
place.

 Comes
the
meaning,
in
the
journeying.

 So,
I
choose.

Copyright 1993 Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved

Along that theme, I’d like to share this poem I wrote in 1987:

Courage

Cowards are we all,
Who easy choices make.

Fear whispers
In every ear,
Few choose
Not to heed.

Seldom to us
Is given greatness,
And, it is not
The grand acts
That make us great.
Rather,
Small choices
Carved out of despair,
Forged in pain.
Choosing life’s hurtful embrace.

Not for other’s
Scant approval.
But, for self,
We do that
Which we must do.

Living for ourselves
Is never easy.
We stand alone,
Balanced at the edge.

Giving no thought to others,
We fall amongst the uncaring.
Heed too much others’ calls,
We join the sheeplike masses.

And, yet all this knowing
We dare to say,
“I choose.”

FLOWING WITH THE RIVER 

Flowing with the River
Only easy is,
If you like the River
Liquid are. 

The River
Never cares
Where it is going.

It’s Destination fixed,
Determined throughout
The aeons. 

It exists
Solely to Flow,
To move,
To feed
In passing the
Birds,
Insects,
And animals. 

It moves throughout
The day
And night.
It has
no beginning,
Nor any real end
And
Yet connects
The Genesis
To the Terminus. 

It’s meaning
Is in the Flow
Not the Beginning,
Nor the End. 

If you would
Like the River be
Then Know thy Destiny awaits,
Ever unchanged. 

And,
Focus not on Closing
Nor Opening. 

But
On the Being
And the Flow.

The Feeling
And the Moment.

The Movement
And the Moving.

The Pace
And the Journey.

The Breath and the Sounds.

The Sight and the Touch.

The Taste and the Smell.

The Savour and The Now.

The Now and the Moment.

For the Moment
Is all
There ever is
And
Ever will be.

Amen.

Passion
drives the
world,
to love
and
to hate. 

It is
the fire,
ignited by the soul
and the spirit,
that fuels
creation –
and destruction. 

When fed
with love,
when nurtured,
cared,
and lovingly
expressed,
it grows
to faithfully
articulate
the gifts
received
from God. 

When starved,
repressed,
denied,
and
locked away,
it festers,
rots,
and
vomits out
its pussy self.
 

So, love
your passion
or
beware!

Tags: Creative Professionals, Passion, Poetry