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To begin with,
We have YOU,
And we have Me.
As well, we have:
Gender Binaries
Gender Blenders
Drag Queens
Drag Kings
Gender Dysphoria
Gender fluids
Gender Non-conformists
Gender Queers
Gender Variants
Two-Sprits... and
(Flora and Fauna?)

Genesis has it all wrong.
Got a brochure outlining the above and saw a "found poem" in it.
 Nov 21
Francie Lynch
I've been exposed.
Many have witnessed me,
And more have noticed it.
The ones I taught to use a spoon,
Tie a lace, ride a bike,
Arise from a fall.
Those whom I've instructed
On when to listen,
When to question.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

The colleagues I once cornered with
In serious situations;
When our decisions effected others' paths;
Those who recognized my signature.
They've acquiesed to the knowledge.

I meet less often with friends.
I ask for less favours, and return fewer.
I don't stand holding meaningful conversations,
Sipping strong drinks.
I wear a cap indoors sometimes  (I once condemned this).
But, here you have it.
They've acquiesed.

I'm on my own now,
Hoping my memories are real and are mine,
And my ideas are new and genuine
(I change my mind a lot).
I seldom check the weather;
I've cancelled my cable (and this is a milestone).

I've enroled in a new world order.
Ask anyone you can find around here.
I no longer run the world.
 Nov 10
Francie Lynch
We heard, in general conversation,
It costs an arm and a leg, now,
Just to see a game.
To join in the comaraderie and cheer.
To eat a dog, to have a beer.
It's a rip off
He closed.

I agreed.
Then something else occured to me
About money and time,
(and what grows on trees)
How they interact to corner us;
To keep us from shows,
And stage dramas
That help us forget
Our real life traumas
(the causes of our nightly insomnias).

There's plenty to spend our cash on
(when older. like me, not when you're young).
So I tell my friends to purchase tickets
For games and concerts,
Plays and trips,
Meals and tips,
And gifts for giving
While above ground with the living.
Cause when you’re gone
You'll wonder why
You didn't spend
Before you died.
Die broke. Spend and enjoy.
 Aug 8
Francie Lynch
There strolls another father,
Scrolling while his daughter
Rides her stroller as they stroll.
He really oughtn't scroll,
She's awake as they stroll;
It's a stroller, not a scroller.

The purpose of a stroll,
Is to walk and talk the prattle,
The speach that infants rattle
While strolling in their stroller.

Sing to your child,
Stroll all the while,
Hum or whistle,
But don't silently scroll on,
While strolling with the stroller.

Recall childhood rhymes, if you can,
Say the ABCs or count to ten;
Talk of little piggies and brazen toads,
Meaningful memories,
And yellow brick roads.

Enjoy your strolling.

Enjoy your scrolling.
It's true. They walk by my place.
 Jul 20
Francie Lynch
In my youth,
My sleek clean youth,
I was taught to pray.
Learn the right way,
Said men of the cloth,
And women of the rag-tag convent.
In rows, on knees, in suplication,
We prayed for days off Purgatory,
Babies, lost in Limbo;
Pray for starving
Blacks in Africa,
In Peru.

I prayed for you.

Beside my bed,
In my head,
For the Living,
For the Dead.
I prayed.
He delayed.
I prayed longer
For thirst and hunger.
I prayed harder,
Got no farther.
I saw little change.
Perhaps got worse,
Despite my prayers,
Or a longing curse.
 Jul 11
Francie Lynch
Three small words,
That we hear,
Make or break
So many fears.
Now let's read
These short phrases,
To realize how
They change us.

How are you?
I feel fine.
Where are you?
You look Divine.

I see you.
You're very welcome.
I miss you.
What a surprise!
I need you,
Open your eyes.

Believe in yourself.
Nobody is perfect.
Count your blessings.
Speak the truth.

Seize the Day.
Go for it.
I'll be there,
Working on it.

Be the exception,
Never give up
Against all odds,
I'll respect that.

Dreams come true.
Learn from mistakes.
Aspire to inspire
For heaven's sake.

Please forgive me.
Let it go.
Let's be friends,
I trust you.

I love you.
Come to bed.

Three small words
Mean so much;
Mouths and hands
Reach and touch.
 Jul 9
Francie Lynch
One hundred years ago
My Mammy was just three,
The exact same age as me,
When she sailed us across the sea,
All those years ago.

Just lately,  just now,
I said Mammy's Mammy's name out loud.
What was that, I asked.
For sure her name's not been said
For many, many years.
Margaret Duffy
A dog barked.
So I said my mother's:
A breeze furled the window sheers.

The dog continued to yelp,
So I said her other names louder:

I will keep the wind inside me,
And allow the dogs their day;
Your names will still be called upon,
In stress or tranquility.
The Irish have called their mother "Mammy" since forever.
 Jun 2
Francie Lynch
He lived down the street from us,
And came to be known as,
The man whose wife left him.
We speculated and surmised.
None but two knew the reason why
He became
The man whose wife left him.

He stopped cutting the grass
And weeding the beds.
He won’t play his uke
On the porch like he did.
From all accounts,
He was a good Dad,
None ever heard him
Explete a foul word.
He worked till retired,
Never was fired.
I'm told he lived a gentle life;
Never started a fight,
Or ran from strife.
That's what I heard
About the man whose wife left him.
Left to his own devices,
The man whose wife left him,
 May 19
Francie Lynch
Beulah gave out
Blossoms this spring
As big as sunflower heads.
They entwined the branches
Like the ribbon enclosing an expectant shower gift.
It's fragrance was the extract
Of an unbottled aroma
That is the Magnolia tree.
I rooted her in the yard
Four years ago.
She is iridescent for a brief time
Past mid Spring.
She has many Springs to go
Above the green growth below;
Many seasons beneth
The blue Summer skies above;
During the Autums ahead,
When I am dead,
And colder than Winter snows
Below her;
She will be there.
Rooted with care.
 Apr 29
Francie Lynch
What we are aiming for
Is a good ways off; in the clouds;
Someplace yonder in the boonies;
Beyond our reach, or, in the middle of nowhere.

It is a pipe dream we’re lighting,
So remote we don’t see the smoke.

Our goals are far-flung;
Like another world’s offerings,
Where the deep blue skies are unattainable.

We are reaching for the higher fruit,
For a single bed in the Ivory Tower.

Visionaries are blinded beyond the pale;
Beyond the bounds, a good ways off;
Instead of grasping for the unearthly, the Utopian,
We must look next door;
Not at the moon or Mars or some galaxy
A million miles away,
To find what’s in our reach,
And grab it.
 Mar 21
Thomas W Case
It's the strangest
All my senses are
alive, ablaze with
ultra keenness.
My brain is
sweetly burned,
and my eyes are
on fire.

I can taste the
cotton candy clouds,
snd the cab that
I'm riding in smells
of coconut and

Those ravens have
mustaches like Poe,
and those raccoons
look just like
I hear an Opera by
Wagner in the wind,
and my footsteps sound
like the very
pulse of life
With being sober almost 2 months, I feel very alive my senses are on high alert.
 Mar 15
Francie Lynch
I believe in her.
Not in supplication or prayer,
But because she cares
About every countless hair,
Every fallen sparrow
And unopened flower.
I believe
In her power,
Her daily miracles.
She cries wet tears,
Her heart beats blood,
Her hands open and close
Around **** or rose.
She's no ****** deity;
She's not ascended beyond reach.
Not an image of pity,
Craddling a bruised and ****** body
(Though she would).
She is flesh and thought.
I believe
Because she is.
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