This is a poem of anger
this is a poem of grief
this is a poem for those
to whom death was the only relief
from the words of abuse
from attitudes of shame
from the spittle and curses
from the taking of blame
from the raining of blows
from fists and boots and rocks
from the penetrating blades
that **** like sharpened *****
from the bullets and blasts
that tear flesh apart
from the tearing of veils
from the hammers and nails
this is a poem of outrage
this is a poem of pain
this is a poem to honour
those who were never to blame

Cynthia Pauline Jones 20/11/13
For International Transgender Day of Remembrance

one day i was talking to my little sister.
she asks me if i was ever depressed.
i tell her yes.
her eyes widen and her lips are mouthing 'why?'
'babe, i'm transgender.'
'is that it?'
so i begin to explain to her the things i feel.
i tell her how everyday i can't wait to get home
and slice open this body i don't know
with a razor from a convenience store.
i tell her i don't know how to act like
a girl for mom and dad, but apparently
i do a **** good job because they
don't notice i'm not.
i tell her that for fourteen years
i've wanted to cut my hair short
and never have to wear a skirt to church again.
i tell her about the pain and fear of
going into a public bathroom.
i tell her about the looks the kids at school give me
and the shoves from behind
about the **** binders and
the locker rooms.
i tell her that i don't know what they
want me to be, and if i can be it.
i tell her all i want is to be called 'he'
and feel like they mean it.

she pauses and gives me a look that says
even though she's too young to understand,
she does.
'i've always wanted a brother.'

Right bang in the middle.
Between man and woman.
But this is better than before - I don't feel like a guy in a dress anymore.
I'm travelling through that special space and time,
that just one in ten thousand ever get to see.
A **** sight better than it used to be.

It was just a pronoun
It was just a mistake
I didn't mean to call you the gender people thought you to be
I'm still going through the change
I absolutely did not mean it
I meant to call you she
Not he
I know what you are now
You're a woman
Stuck in a man's body

I'm tired.
I'm tired of it taking more mental energy
and self confidence for us to go out in public,
than it does most people.
I don't blame a person, or religion,
its much more than that.
I blame society in general, its peer pressure,
It's structure designed to keep everyone
in small boxes, all thinking the same.
I blame manufacturer's for making every item
we buy gendered male or female,
Just to sell more and make more money.
I blame the media for its lies and ignorance
when reporting about us..
And I blame us is some ways for allowing it.
I blame myself for not doing more,
but I'm just too tired of fighting, struggling
and having to do it all again tomorrow.
I'm Transgender.. And I get tired.

by Lj Mark 2015

Brown is the new pink
It don’t matter what you think
A pretty man can make a pretty woman
It’s all about perspective
Gender neutral
Brown hair
Thick lip smile
Brown skin
Long lashes
Brown eyes
Strong arms
Brown is beautiful

Someone asked me the other day
Could I ever date a Transgender girl
I think they expected a No, or Maybe
But a different answer popped out of my mouth
A special friend came to mind
A secret love I have
but mine alone, as she speaks only French
She is transgender, and date her I would
I dream of her nightly
dreams I can't put into words
We trans people speak of masks
Of who we tried to be before
Lying, acting, pretending to be male
With the woman we have always been
Hidden behind masks, confined to a closet

But I know for some it is also a mask
The attempts to look female and pass
To hide the body we hate
To be more the woman that we imagine us to be
But isn't that also a mask
The clothes and makeup, lipstick and wigs
Trying to make our bodies
Match who we are in our minds

This secret love I have, the intimate dreams
I want to take off all the masks
The wigs the makeup the clothes and shoes
I want to be with the person beneath all of the masks
That's who I dream of holding, that's who I long to love

by Lj Mark