In a lavatory a pink transvestite

Applies ruby and rouge

To my cosmetic mask

Hoping for a wished encounter

A fiction overcomes us

Conveys us as strangers

Into an unknown territory

Leaves us there

The two of us, stranded

Our location inaccessible

As intuitive yet unpredictable

Thoughts cluster

In constellated

Images around

The rehearsed persona

Of myself

Funny my little friend who insist
In trying on a lady's hat,
Oh I see even if the joke falls flat on
Your face even why you have the lady's
Hat on,
My little friend had a grin on his face
With so much grace of play ;
We share your slight transvestite twist
In spite of our embarrassment.
Costume and custom are complex.
You have this look of a style man with the
Hands of a woman ;
The headgear of the other sex inspires us to
Experiment what she had in her shop.
At the beach we run and have all kinds of
Fun , My best friend in the whole world is
He , Even when he acts sometimes like '' woman'',
The natural madness of the hatter's looking down
On us just because my friend loves to play in the
Sand like a woman even though he is a man .
And if the opera hats collapse and crowns grow draughty,
Then, perhaps he might fit into this sad crown we could
Live without !
Funny my little friend with lipstick in his hands ,
You who wore a hat of a woman that's too big for you ,
And you play in the sand acting like a woman ,
Now you have lipstick in your hand and know a plying
It on your lips now I am confused ,
My little friend is exemplary and slim, with a vernal eye,
I wonder what he is going to do next !
What slow changes he made in front of me ,
His vast, shady, turned-down brim. Then he looked back at
Me with a style of fashion Like a woman ,
And he asks me if he was a woman even though he is a man
Would I look down on my little friend ?
I smile and said to my little friend I love you just the way you
You are.


Lilly Emery

I do not own a motorbike,
Never been a member of the Third Reich.
I’m not Italian, French or gay,
(No homophobe, just not built that way).
I’m not Tom Jones or a member of Queen,
I’m not going back to the seventies in a time machine.
I’m not a backing dancer for Madonna,
Talc on my legs “I don’t wanna”.
So why do I own a pair of leather trousers?

This was definitely a mistake,
Like breaking wind on a first date,
Swearing at the boss at the crimbo celebration,
Being caught by parents doing a sexual gyration.
Persuaded to buy them, through the mist of lust she had taste,
I found out too late, she was highly religious, chaste.
Good quality, not cheap, never worn,
Could be used in transvestite porn!
Does anyone want a pair of leather trousers?

Singing praise....


    ....a different life so long ago.
Dreams of swastikas and rose-tinted spectacles
floating through my head.
One moment I was the Polish Jew;
the next,
an aristocratic, Aryan German --
Dual reflections held in the iron-gaze
of the hammer and anvil.
    I held you in my youthful arms,
and you felt like a sweet, hairy goat.
Rotting on the inside, yet shining brightly
with so much beauty and life all at once.
Serpents rose from the secret codes of my loins,
and I worshipped you as an old, universal lover
as I penetrated your dark womb;
a sanctified temple of Angels and Daemons.

    Initially we prayed to the inverted graves,
so young of heart and mind we were.
But even though our love
seemed consummated in the kiln of hell,
our love was true passion,
paralleling the flames flickering against our fresh skin.
    Yes, this kiln cured our wicked ways,
so that the vessel of our love,
shining like glass,
finally cooled off to less dangerous levels
in the cool breeze of heavenly skies.
And then we wiped off the green grins from its surface.
    It has always been about heaven and hell.
Always.
Whether through belief,
or personifications of the laboratory mind.
One cannot only pray to 'him' alone;
both phallic powers are needed
in order to light the spark of creativity/creation.
    "Our Father AND Mother who art in Heaven(after),
hallowed be both thy names."
Male and female energies
fusing together into a singular 'it'--
praying to both him and her,
breathing life into each other
like slightly distorted, transvestite, siamese-twins.
    
    ....we wanted to stay in the changing pleasures of the flesh,
but our minds spread wings.
Taking flight,
ascending smoothly and with turbulence both,
we transformed into golden light,
moving invisible objects with our thoughts,
opening secret locks and shackles,
figuring out who was who -
who were the Angels and who were the Daemons,
who were Daemons, and who were Angels.

I’ve got a lock and key, what you got? You got a door,
                                      a shrapnel embedded cupboard
      Curiously covered up that there is, do you want go out?
      No I got a boyfriend, but I do have a few contraceptives
Or I could show you my funny parts and we could plateau on the platonic
Abstinence is on par with networking
                           Oh shipwrecks of relationships, your waters never looked safe, your shoreline so rocky,
                      but your sail, if you see what I’m saying. Goddamn that wind a high-inducing pitch of a stank
                                                                          You took me to the foreign lands and never brought me back,
                                                                          a souvenir got emailed. Which I have just picked up, it’s actually           rather beautiful,
especially if we picked it out together
It is a bullet and that is rather cliché in the expectable in this sense of the world,
but the copper lining is exquisite, insert random bit about consumerism
                                     Then spin a bit around voyeurism, then mention the outcome of the movies,
                                                                                  the moving bits. The back & forth where it all starts
But like I said, you want a contraceptive? Or maybe just a sock? How about a porn addiction?
This really isn’t a discussion we should be having,
                              I don’t like arguing about these things and I’m a transvestite and rather think they don’t apply
                                                See the bit you said was babies and the bit I said was from the bible
Jesus and Black Moses, walking down the street
Preaching for the freaks
Then the bit you said was more like, I don’t know what I’m saying, I mumble and moan
And think about sex and college and loans and the bit that really stuck out was
  
                                   “Babies, they really just freak me out.”

Experimental

He was a beauty in a dress.
Fallen
He was the queen of all that he saw.
He never knew of the hate.
Goodbye
Born of fear so obscene.
They had tongues like hemlock
Halo
Knives dripped in atrophy.
He became the man in the coffin.
Ignite
A transvestite stripped of all meaning.

The transvestite
in the corner
sauntered over to me dripping sleaze
while I tightly gripped j&b on the rocks in a heavy glass

ignoring myself

and he whispers heavily in my ear
after colliding with the bar, sitting down hard
"I want to be treated like a woman, and fucked like one."

The hooker next to us at the bar,
Thin legs crossed, drinkless and bruised
                      hearing this, turned,
Saying around a thin menthol on a long filter

"Oh' honee'y"

Making a small 'tch 'tch 'tch noise with her tongue seductively.

"You don't fuck us, we fuck you."

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face
Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's fuck all lie among you

Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, swastika, threesome, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive!
This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
You've really fucked the naval officer
And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse
Now it's time to evacuate the scrotum if you have a free hand

This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm
I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap
And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor
And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays

Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer
Telescopic hindward the lump
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet fuck all I can have sexual intercourse with

With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads
I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo
And I think my sputnik knows which direction to piss
Tell my ballbreaker I fondle her vigorously for England, she bonks

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen
Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you...

From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum
Telescopic hindward the groupie
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet fuck all I can have sexual intercourse with