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Sara Kellie May 2018
Can't wait to see the old man Wednesday week.
Give my update on exposing the freak.
I'll have to 'create' by Wednesday tea, so me Shan & Lloydy* can watch T.V.
I told Deb Simo, I count as best friend, but didn't consider how all this would end.
As one told another and the news spread.
The obvious outcome, my husband is dead.
What would I do without my old Mum who guided and led me to be with this ***.
By listening to Mum and taking advice, this peado
has had me not once but now twice.
Oh didn't I tell you, when I was fourteen, he took down my knickers, did something obscene.
Now that my marriage has all ended bad, I've now got a boyfriend as old as my Dad.
And if you think that's a joke, here's one, he's probably due another stroke.
Three years of bad luck, what will I do next.
Send him vile messages, all via text.
It can't be long now, and when all is done at least me and Shan have had lots of fun.
Now his family all know, they smirk and they grin. Best just do that than risk say something.
But what will he do. He'll tell them they're through unless they come clean and point at us two.
As we'd always planned, "best get on our toes". He's not ******* stupid, he already knows.
So time to move on and find some new friends.
For me, you and him this is where it all ends.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Written many years ago and based on events that may or may not have been happening at the time. A time when my truth was out and I lost everything.
*denotes same person
In Nebraska, they are murdering transexuals
those with necks red as blood and lipstick
     This recording is the last of the words which are me
     -Play on the air for all to hear
or smash them between these two bricks
these two red bricks of earth and stone
     In Nebraska, they are murdering transexuals
which you may think is funny
when their lipstick gets smeared ridiculously
across the macadam
until you see their blood the same as yours
until they come for you
those "good old boys" with fists like bricks
and necks engorged with hate and spit
warm beer, **** and vinegar
sun beating down on their angry, little brains
 
     This is the final transcript
of all that I am
embellished with sequins and such
scrawled in *****
     These words are my lover's breaths
floating in darkness above cold ears
lost in cartoon-balloon blurbs
a drama of gasps
a flurry of snow and chipped nails
upon the pavement
across the prairie
in Nebraska
I wrote this when much younger and so I hope that it is not too dated, for those in the know. It was in response to some tragic news story of the time. This poem was previously published in my book"A Deep, Blue Dreaming (Magick Boy's Lost Episodes)", by Shivastan Publishing.
explain to me, put into words
how can the bees defy the birds?
when i was little, i was taught
our ******* just can't be bought
Hollow Steve Jul 2015
Catapault me into chaos,
I wish to get a little closer.
Your tainted eyes speak to me.
I wish to get to know you,
just a little bit better.

If I can handle it,
I'll stick around and play.
Too much pain is a killjoy.
If it burns too much,
I'll blow out the fire someday.

Criss-crossdresser,
I'm seduced into your submission.
My identity remains in shambles,
I'll see you on the otherside,
as I walk through this transition.

A possible phase,
or a permanent reside?
I am lost in mindless self indulgence.
If I dance in the rain,
I'll no longer have to hide.

An eternal blue flame,
made of youth and spirit.
Love could only feed the madness.
To remain the same,
is something my mind could never inhabit.

So dance, and dance,
and sing the tunes of duality.
I experiment with composure.
And once I find balance,
my dream will be that much closer
LjMark Apr 2015
We're pushed away and stepped over
When we're not being scoffed at and ridiculed
We wonder where our strength comes from
How we get up over and over and over again

Trans or ***, or sometimes both
We all get treated the same
Hurt by words that get thrown at us
So often that only tears remain

But strong we are, those that are left
Too many gone, from pain and distrust
We take a breath, wipe off the spit
And keep fighting to live another day

The world cries for unity, for rights and equality
But somehow we always seem to lose
The rights and equality seemed destined for us
Given to those the majority choose to see

We sink in our hearts, hold on to each others hands
Dreary of the battle, left empty from the fight
Trans and ***, stand arm in arm
Ready for tomorrow, hoping for an end to the fight.

by Lj Mark, 2015
Bobbie Bachelor Dec 2014
You wanted me to be happy
But you didn't like
That I played football

Because I was a girl

You wanted me to be strong
But you never liked it
When I cried

Because I was a boy

You always tried to say
That because I was this
Or that

That I could only be what society wanted me to be

I ignored you
I walked my own path

I cut my hair short
When I was a girl
I wore my hair long
When I was a guy
I didn't care
I never lied

I am me
Male or female

Now you know why I dress up in jeans
And act like a tomboy
Now you know why I wear a dress
And act like a drag queen

The mirror never defined who I was
My spirit did
I knew this
Even before I was born

Sure I struggle
With being trapped
In the wrong body
But that's okay

I was born this way

And it's okay
To be bi
Lesbian
Or ***

It's okay to be transgendered
Transexual
Bipolar in love

We were born
To change
I feel the whispers of the Mistress
And the smooth hands of the Mister
The gentle embrace of the beautiful He
And the masculine lips of the handsome She
Four lovers whom fill my heart
Different genders
I shall never care
I shall never care about skin color, gender identification, or hair
Religion, region, since when did it all matter
I'll just love who I love because of their beautiful personality and wonderful attributes.
I could care less if I go to hell
I'd do it for these beautiful people
I'll kiss who I want to kiss
Hug who I want to hug
**** who  I want to ****
Touch who I want to touch
I'll be as close or as much of a stranger to whoever I please
Because it is my life
Not a phony god's, not my parents', not yours
It is mine
I love the smell of her floral scented hair
I love the warm feeling of snuggling with him
I love the sweet words of she who wants to be a he
And the fun times with he who wants to be a she
All the beautiful friends, lovers, and family I have
Why can't they be free
To love who they want to
And same goes for me
I want to be able to hold and marry and kiss my future lover
Just let us love
It is not your life to control
Or to judge
Or to spectate
We are made of the same red blood as you
Eat the same food
Dress the same dress
We are all normal people like you
Griffin Schapp Aug 2014
Here's to the kids like me
the teens like me
  who can't wear what they want
  because of gender
to the disforic
to the sad
to those who hide true gender identity because of fear
  the ones who dress in the wrong locker room
  need to respond to the wrong name
I love you
      Now, those girls in the locker room who...
  look down at me because I wear boxers and sports bra's
  look down at him because he dresses like them
  look down at us because we would die to trade bodies
    Now, those guys who...
   look at me and see the weaker ***
   look down at him because he loves men
   look down at us because we bind or stuff to look like the other one
                                   *******
Erin May 2014
The curtains close and the lights go up
We wait for the next performance to get ready.

Soon the think red drapes are parted,
and my heart jumps,
because there he is.

The show begins, screaming into the mike,
Are you ready to rock?
I am.

They **** the songs, but after awhile I stop paying attention
to the songs and start watching them.

I watch as he throws his hair back, long and thick and curly,
singing at the top of his voice, with the edge and rough raw that even
a shot of T won't get me.

I shift from him to his friend, his friend that is everything I want.

He belts out Hound Dog, he rips into his guitar and shreds the songs

a  p   a  r  t .

His slender arms, with the bulge of muscle shining shining sweat.
Furrowed brow and nimble fingers that I want all over me.

Turn back to the first boy, watch his hips
circle behind his guitar, his groin pressing against the smooth wood.

Behind his zipper a throbbing energy that he teases with,
smirking into the audience, with more grace and sensuality
than I when I practice in my room behind a locked door.

The tears come at the end, and I blink them back,
always blinking them back.

a  l  w a y  s.

Can't decide if I like you or if I like your body,
if I want you or your body.

Is it bad that I want to strut onstage with my bass guitar laying flat against my chest, to shred a song with my vocal chords bleeding ****** raw?

And at the same time, I long for a smooth body,
a flat stomach and long, luscious hair, tumbling down my back.

Gentle ******* beneath silky cups, curving me into a petite doll.


I watch the boys and my heart aches, for him, and for his body.

I don't know what transexual means but it might be me.
May 10, 2014 /itsjusterin

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