Your face is lined;
your brows are white.
You’re facing down
your long twilight.
Your tummy has a little bulge--
I see marks of what you
used to indulge.
Your teeth aren’t white;
your hair is thin,
but I believe that you’ve won
the struggle within.
There are bags
underneath your eyes,
but that gaze now is
so much more wise.
You don’t stir my blood--
the blood of youth--
but your words today
speak realms of  truth.
Love is left
when lust is gone,
and this love will last
‘til the world is done.

On the First day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me
A transwoman in her skiv-vies.
On the second day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me
Two fake *******, and a transwoman in her skivvies.
On the third day of Xmas, my Dep Rep gave to me
No women’s sports teams, two fake ******* and a transwoman in her skivvies.
On the fourth day of Xmas, my Dep Rep gave to me,
Four phalloplasties, no women’s sports teams, two fake ******* and a transwoman in her skivvies.
On the fifth day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me
Five preg-nant men! Four phalloplasties, no women’s sports teams, two fake *******, and a transwoman in her skivvies.
On the sixth day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me,
Six double mastectomies, five preg-nant men! Four phalloplasties, no women’s sports team, two fake *******, and a transwoman in her skivvies.
On the seventh day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me,
Seven teens with breast binders, six double mastectomies, five preg-nant men! Four phalloplasties, no women’s sports teams, two fake *******, and a transwoman in her skivvies.
On the eighth day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me,
Eight cheater’s trophies, seven teens with breast binders, six double mastectomies, five preg-nant men!  Four phalloplasties, no women’s sports teams, two fake *******, and a transwoman in her skiv-vies.
On the ninth day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me,
nine pharma lobbyists,  eight cheaters’ trophies, seven teens with breast binders, six double mastectomies, five preg-nant men! Four phalloplasties,  no women’s sports teams, two all gender locker rooms, and a transwoman in her skiv-vies.
On the 10th day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me
10 years of electrolysis, nine pharma lobbyists, eight cheaters’ trophies, seven teens with breast binders, six double mastectomies, five preg-nant men! Four phalloplasties, no women’s sports teams, two all gender locker rooms and a transwoman in her skivvies.
On the 11th day of Xmas, my Dem Rep gave to me
11 lost scholarships, 10 years of electrolysis, nine pharma lobbyists, eight cheaters' trophies, seven teens with breast binders, six double mastectomies, five preg-nant men! Four phalloplasties, no women's sports teams, two all gender locker rooms and a transwoman in her skiv-vies!
On the 12th day of Xmas my Dem Rep gave to me,
12 preferred pronouns, 11 lost scholarships, 10 years of electrolysis, nine pharma lobbyists, eight cheaters' trophies, seven teens with breast binders, six double mastectomies, five preg-nant ment! Four phalloplasties, no women's sports teams, two all gender locker rooms and a transwoman in her skiv-vies!

Liberals love them—then they don’t.
And live to help them (till they won’t).
Neighbors fresh from Guatemala;
Salvador or Nicaragua…
Fleeing failed drug-plantations
U.S-sponsored situations;
Where corruption harvests fruits,
Doling out the business suits.
United Fruit Co. on the skids
Allen Dulles’ ******* kids . . .
For Arbenz overthrown, and worse
Our wicked past has caused this curse:
The training/arming of their thugs
Snorting about a War on Drugs…
Inform yourself on how this started
You, so smugly openhearted:
Aid diversity’s expansion—
House them in your sumptuous mansion.
Not to cut your grass, or build
but more to get their dream fulfilled
Since Allen Dulles owns the guilt
Destroying when we should have built
And sending troops to bananeros,
Lauding them as valiant heroes
For repressing Mayan peasants:
Help them now unwrap their presents.

My love, my guiding light,
shield me from the horrors
of this mortal world's blight--
the sorrow, and the pain,
and blood running into rivers
like rain.
I close my eyes and curse my sight.
But as I turn to you, your image
blocks out the deepening night.
I imagine your hand, your fingers touching mine
(though you will never be mine). With you,
I am home. I walk through the night
to where it is always day; I shall never be alone.

Run... run while you can
before the envelopment entraps you
encapsulating escape with leaden clouds
skies darkened by searing missiles
unburdening caches waiting
for the stirring of conflict
so easy to hijack
as hatred
screams
loudest
drowning
out the pleas
of nursing mothers
as children's faces fend off
old feuds and avarice of arms dealers

I still remember
the night of the living dead
a tempestuous night
when we should’ve stayed inside
the weight of “beloved” stones up on our heads

I heard stories about
vengeful deceased
coming back to life
but if we’re full of hatred
why are we laying side by side?

I buried you
you buried me
but now we are just deteriorating
rotting flesh wandering around
when we should’ve rested in peace