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Nat Lipstadt May 30
(Ain’t “They” Great!)

Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet,
playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised,

No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play,
but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant”

Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot,

of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation!
We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre),

re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal,
robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality”

God Bless No-Brainers!
Ain’t They Great!


Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty:

still an OWG
(old white guy)
but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA

RueSe Dec 2020
They want to **** us
They want to keep us in a grave embrace
They want to stroke our thick coarse hair with talons
They want to nuzzle our chins with their gun
This kind of love hurts
Must I keep loving?

If you don't love first and fast, who
onyx Oct 2020
am i really
who i think i am ?
am i really
who i've been told i am?
am i really
who i've been made to be?
am i bound to who
they perceive me as?
or can i be expressed
in a different form ?
i want to be alive, but i feel
trapped in who i am
it doesn't sit right with me
but who i think i am
doesn't sit right with them
i am human .
i am she .
i am they .
i am who i am .
but i am not bound to
how i am traditionally
perceived .
she was afraid
when they looked
at her
what did they see
always wondering
what they were thinking
how do they feel
analyzing every
little thing she said
she just cared
so much
she just wanted to be
Change is coming
so quickly,
so fast
its easy to miss
but somehow
some way
change is here
its not wanted
they think
its unnecessary
but change always comes
change is here
and we
are not ready
they say
they say
that he'll be blown away
blown away
in a ballot paper display

they say
they say
that he'll have an unfortunate day
an unfortunate day
of terrible gray

they say
they say
that he'll be made to pay
made to pay
for his unpredictable play

they say
they say
that he'll receive an unforgiving spray
an unforgiving spray
from the fifty states array  

they say
they say
that he'll not survive the onslaught's affray
the onslaught's affray
which is coming his way
The poem is based on Donald Trump.
Where Shelter May 2020
the anonymous who keep us fed,
allowing us to stay in shelter, hide in bed,
while they masked and gloved,
go about keeping us safe and living

with no glory, the invisible,
the shelf stockers,
the wipe-downers,
of our collective spaces,
disinfecting when we
are home in our heads, while
their families worry~wait

we are the indebted,
so our collective can prosper,
no one calls them heroes,
but we would be at greatest, fatalist risk,
if not for the burdens they accept,
for they deliver

so I when I ask nowadays, where is shelter,
the answer is, it is on the way, it is in their hands,
being delivered!
in NYC we are able to survive only because of this army
Mrs Anybody Mar 2020
why do i
always start
to care
for people
i barely know

when they
probably don't
care about me
also check out my other poems!  :)
Bailey Feb 2020
Eyes closed tight
With the sounds of the night
Filling me with fright

Be a good girl they said
It constantly plays in my head
I wake to my bed

And I smell the flowers
Just like they said
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