There are pathetic voices of desperation
posturing bravado from an ever-growing

position in the inevitable winter of their
life. Some are those who try to speak out

for that which they never had and which
they desperately sought in the smallness

of mind, body and spirit and now try to
stand tall in a John Wayne way for which

they never could have and so they just
lash out like little children screaming

bloody murder slamming their fists and feet
into the floor. These are the hollow voices

echoing from deep within the dark recesses
of the caves of fearfulness — little, old

white boys screaming for what most of them
never had and, now, never will.