The firmest handshake
I've ever felt
Was that of a woman with

Only three fingers left
On her
Hand.

The biggest person I know
Is about the same hight as
His wheelchair.

His life is a richer one
Than mine will ever be.
Because he makes it so.

What worries do I have?
Yet some days are heavy.
I suppose being born

Unimpaired and staying so
Is an impairment at times
In itself.

The colors of the seasons reflect your true inner beauty.
Winter:  gleaming and glistening the white winter themes

Summer: The songs of the birds in Nana’s sycamore trees,
a friendly reminders of your tone of voice

Spring and fall: blends harmoniously together
Like our cultures, as we rise above

All the friction and roughness of discrimination
Throughout the years on earth

more than we can write. erase
and unpick the seams. words tarry,
waver and leave this place, this room,

scuttle back into corners. sweep the house clean,
cross the words and know that when the time is right,
they will come again, dripping from fingers,
folded , torn, photographed in plenty.

wondered about misspelling, maybe
missed the point?

sbm.

If my poem arouses you then I know
I am doing something good
I am the poet,
the narrator of this poem
I write what I feel,
I say what I like
Somehow, I captivate my audience
Who I am, and who you think I am
or what you think of me.
Have no bearings  
on this poet's work

Therefore, I am who I am,
without the smearing
I am from this Century
where I am free from *******,
my words spread in a nanosecond,
across the internet,
however, my lip are sealed
my poetic spirit guides me:
until it’s time to orchestra
an forgettable vogon list of  poems
with my unique vernacular

I can take you the mountain top and
Make you believe it’s easy to climb
I can make you reach for the star,
Knowing that it’s unreachable by far

Life has a way of making you fall on your behind
The language I use, it far too complicated
Because I celebrates life with poetry
As well as I loathes it

So what’s your question?
I probably knows the answer

everyone's talking
about freedom of speech

as if it should come at no cost
like something you teach

it's never been that way
and it never will be

we need to be reminded
of what it means to be free.

Running through the nursery door
The loss tugs on my heart once more
I smile, I know that you'll have fun
It's me that is the lonely one
On the train I think of you
Your smile, your laugh, it gets me through
Through the day, although work distracts
It doesn't take away that fact
Your are a constant in my brain
I check my mobile once again
I wonder what you've had for tea
I wonder if you think of me
And then it's time, the homeward trip
Oh, my heart, it does a little flip
As I see you coming, arms open wide
My little boy, my joy, my pride

We believe female circumcision
Is barbaric,
But boys should look like their Dads,
It's traditional, like swinging a dead cat
In a gunney sack over your head.
Yeah, like Dad and I showered together daily?
Should girls augment their ******* to look like Mom.
Should Mom landscape to look like daughter.
Let's bring Granny into the mix.

We believe homelessness to be cruel
And unnecessary.
Why I have one in winter,
And one in summer.
Our dogs have wall-to-wall.
Birds have gilded cages.
They have vents and cardboard.

We believe in fair trade
(Except with countries we don't believe),
To get what others have,
Especially those diamond rings,
Blood stones.

We abhor child labour,
But haven't enough
Money to give Wal-Mart
On Black Friday.

Where do our sympathies lie?
When sympathies lie.

Certain men may be pigs, and maybe some feminists take it a bit far,
but when it comes to sexism, I certainly don't think it's restricted to ***;
and when it comes to racism: there's no such thing as race.

Far too many **** Sapiens are just ******* vapid and odious when it comes to their personality, in general. It doesn't matter if the narrative is One's ***, or religion, politics, perceived gender, art, science, the weather or any other elite form of edified philosophy.

I want to believe that everyone has merit-
that they cannot be judged by any external entity
that, because it is external, lacks the whole context.

Still, some people spoil my attitude towards people a bit.

Humans are my favorite counter-example; yet, I love us. Somehow.

Jaded though I may well be,
I seek foremost to be kind, but that makes you a doormat.
One seems to have two choices: be a push-over, or an *******.

I seek the middle path:
empathic and kind, but also self-interested.
..something of a "passive-assertive" person.

Returning to the point:
I'm just an equalist, I guess.
Egalitarian. Individualist.

Sexism? Racism? Nationalism?
Why the **** is it even an issue?

Haven't we grown up at all in the last 10,000 years?

If someone's skin color, chromosomal composition, language, wealth, ethnicity, or where on Earth they happened to be born is that big of an issue to you psychologically and socially, there are much bigger problems going unchecked boiling over within you. The abandoned kettle whistles.
Good luck. Earnestly.
We're all counting on you.

People are people.
Worry about yourself and what and who you love.

I performed adverse observations,
polyphonic annihilation's
of linguistic situations
Intrepid assassinations of language.
Only to sit and ponder.
Amid wonder.
Where did the words all go
Strewn About like...
Carcasses of coccophony
Stumbled upon by the devotion to Reverence,
Or is it reference, to the Quotes and misquotes
Of misaligned Estutes,Resigned to Following

I am in the right restroom,
I am wearing the right clothing,
I am not confused,
I am in the wrong body

Yes, My mother knows of my "condition".
Maybe I am mentally ill.
But that is not for you to decide.
Yes, This is of my own free will,
And not an act of rebellion.

I am not a girl.
This is my real name.
I am Kayden T. Widmer
And Yes, I am a boy.