Fantastic Fact, Automatic Tact, Angelic Act Poem by John Sensele

In my helicopter I grow softer
Opening up my bottled feelings
Introducing into my steel the laughter
That hitherto flies away from my dealings.

In my helicopter, I feel more man
Caressing women, rather than ripping to pieces
The dignity and serenity that define the woman
A man by mistake thinks thrive in French kisses.

In my helicopter the humility of masculinity grows stronger
The more I accept my weaknesses
Renewing, reviving remedies that no longer
Prevent my ego from slaying sadist sicknesses.

In my helicopter, a woman is the person
Equal to or more excellent than me in every respect
From whom I learn the salutary lesson
That man grows richer when empathy and sympathy displace disrespect.

In my helicopter, misogyny dies
If humanity and magnanimity gain a new lease of life
When assistance and persistence hasten to listen to cries
From throats of women who abhor the prevalence of sensual strife.

In my helicopter, I slam doors shut on gender based violence
Women bear and wear at the hands of putrefaction partners
Who filled with insolence and indolence
Harvest vats of pleasure from violence vintners.