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V Jan 2020
Reassignment: Verses in Fragments


i. awake

Piercing, ruthless -- no maybe relentless is better. Awakening from a grasp so harsh, tethered to icy ****** of expectations. Words of coercion and malice ring, slamming like thunder, fluid with heterodoxy: you're an it huh? look at him -- it's a him you wanna be right?

    Laughs, indecent and rioting, and that ruthless charade of orthodox behavior hurt him. Hurt them. Awake to who they were. Hard to grasp, terrifying yo admit, punching the ticket to their own match.

    Tears stretched past the brims of swollen eyes, enduring each hurled assault of syllables -- how do I stop it?

ii. begin

Refuge in a screen, in the safety net of a bridge reality. Asylum found in the hands of similar misfits. The insults of it from verse i. -- it?

    Heard so many times perhaps it had been a level hard to be clear of. Bubbling and morbidly sticky at the surface of their own secret.

   Hands clutched to their skirt on Sunday for church, hands digging into the flesh of their thighs on a Saturday night. Under the escape of another human -- another person not from the retrospective circle of heterodoxy that suffocated them.

iii. epiphany

Saccharine puffs of fingertips bloomed on the bridged hips. Tears or resentment upon discovering the geography of an anatomy assigned without intervention.

   The revelation of gestured dreams, honey coated and dripped in the cloak of youth, cinched with the bodice of their crippling environment.

    What are you? -- Asked over and over, trying to present for a world of alienated oddities and and disorders. Clutch again. Fingers deeply dug into the hems of their skirts, in the fabrics of hidden flannels and binders wrapped in secret around the channel of their chest.

      Fluid. Changing. Unsure spoken in response.

iv. shadow

Hide behind the familiarity of cyclonic and disposed love and consciousness. Stumbling winds and scraped egos are less than transparent, seemingly an impossibility among the issues they feel.

     The dark cloak embodies the identity, the presentation and realization of being trapped.

     Monitoring the standards that wouldn't categorize them as the genuine way they see themselves, presentation the frugal decoration they dangle to the orthodoxy of society to stay hidden.

v. persona

Fingertips fidgeting with the sirens of noise, laughs and loud voices fill halls, centers. They weren't meant for this, meant to be so forced into the social structure that terrifies them.

     Pads of scarred flesh rooting from the bottom up, eyes glimpsing the possibility of others around them.

   Those saccharine touches of loathing and the journey for love and acceptance remains fragmented, continuous, and fluid.
One day, there will likely be a Race
Reassignment surgery
And of course
It will cause an
Uproar
At first
But soon
Humanity will understand
Race is a state of mind
Not an outward
Appearance
palladia Jul 2013
A crossbreed will evolve its truth:
Such facets crafted my design.
I re-exchange, manipulate
Until the age, true fashion finds.

Postmodern wars are pedigrees,
I transpose notes to aptly fit
A sequence feigned mathematically—
Given new meanings I have writ.

It’s not an art, which fates betide,
It has suppressed no cataclysm.
The scheme to cancel and destroy—
We’ll never be obliterated.

The architect contrives such things,
The artist coins it impromptu;
But hybrids can construct those things,
New definitions—institute.
I have always wanted to do something with postmodernism, because it is topic so surrounding us everywhere we look. Although I can't say postmodernism is "in" anymore (today is what is called the "metamodernist age", or post-postmodernism), it's impact on popculture was never so significant. One of the major premises in postmoderism was the eradication of absolute value: everything is relative and old things have new meaning. That's what this is: an ode to postmodernism, or what I like to call, "The Postmodernist's Prayer".
In my mind what determines
how I write these rhymes
in little time constructing lines
that pierce through your eyes into your soul
some would say I'm in my prime
cause My words are worth gold and
I don't believe in crimes
The world is so cold you can
buy a man with dollar signs
We live in a generation
where a beautiful woman is belittled to a dime
But is more valuable to a mankind
than gold and diamonds.

Now
Realize we're due
for Realignment, Reassignment
by our masters in hiding
while I'm typing in the silence
I hear the riots of the people
protesting and fighting
shaking the earth like
thunder and lightning.

****** sirens!

This Television programming
has numbed us to violence.
Yet won't broadcast the riots
or give us the real science.
Anyone acting defiant
blowing a whistle is swiftly silenced.
We must all stand firm like a hydrant
and face our current tyrants
or
take no action at all
and be fed to starving Lions.

©2013
Thoughts below please.
Claire Waters Aug 2012
a coffee shop
a normal saturday morning
i wait at the speckled counter
and count the deformed donuts with sickened reassignment
a little girl is sitting at a diner table to my left
she stares at me with awe and darts up
handing me a picture she looks right at me with glee
“oh wow did you make this?” i ask
in the way an adult talks to a child
she nods and i say “this is great
do you draw a lot?”
she shakes her head no
“well you should” i say
and she, laughs and says
“no, i don’t need to do it more.
it doesn’t matter
i do it when i want to
i just like to”

i think of the way the little inflections upon her talk
mirror in my mind the voice of camus
you are not just what you do
you are more than the opportunities in your environment
absurdity arises in the aperture between you and the world
the world is real but the choices it allows
how can you exist when they close around you
from all sides, like a test from hell—i mean school
we have to choose a b c d
it doesn’t give a human space to breath—i mean, be

what i’m saying is
i’ve been washed up into the land
you go to when the fairies die
i’ve learned to lie with a very straight face
i’ve been had by the dollar bill
and in some twisted way
i only work for the prize these days
and still i’m willing to admit
a child outwitted me
and i’d rather it be that way
because sometimes i need to be put in my place
while rational and logical and adult
i have been living without being
and she
has tripped the strings
attached to the knots in my fingers
and my throat
this poem, i owe it to her
Graff1980 Feb 2015
Brown eyes
Brown hair
Down there
Skin folded or inverted in
Split ****
Who would go through this
If it wasn’t important
New hair
Hormone treatment
Doesn’t deserve
Your resentment
Life never offers
A perfect placement
Most of the time
We got to make
Our own happy space
New life
No more dissonance
Between who you are
And who you are
It’s more compassionate
To let someone be
Who and what
They want to be
Then to make them suffer
For your sense of normality
Rustle McBride Jan 2017
Dear Mr. Cupid,

I hope you are well. Please forgive this letter’s intrusion. I know you are busy, preparing your bow, and planning this season’s collusions. I’ll remind you though Sir, of the issue I had with the last year’s arrow consignment. Your aim was amiss, and I’d be remiss if I failed to seek your reassignment. I’d like somebody new to deliver my true - love for which I have been waiting. For it has been so long since my wife ran along, and everyone says that I should be dating. So please, if you would send somebody good to shoot Love's arrow at me. Thank you in advance for forgoing this dance.

Sincerely,
Mr. Oso Lonely
Her eyes look like a mirror, mirrors to the soul
they spoke of things so very hard to share
some things that held within a stare
did anyone possess to fill her time
of reassignment so hard to bear.....

Yet somehow their tomorrows bloomed from there
with cracks that go far and wide ....

She heard the dreams with a smile
and a whisper yearning
for all the promised paths
she danced upon...

She shared her dreams with the stars that would light her day...

Remembering the garden of each song
each note played her melody she gazed upon
forever into his longing eyes the mirrors to her soul..

His eyes mirrored hers cracks and all
and then they seem to fade away....

A pathway made of letters
that reached their lives of love
that faced with a forever trust....

Eyes mirrored eyes,
felt love eyes that trusted
that saw too much,
that loved anyway.....*

Debbie Brooks 2014
dims Jun 2020
i found my faith in you,
in your eyes and your words and your mind and every little piece of you, it had my faith in it
this was a different kind of worship
in which the familiar feeling of intertwining our fingers and looking out on the town we grew up on, the very same town we were so scared of

if i could trace back my steps i would
i would go backwards just for you but we haven't figured out how to do that yet
i would give you the moon, the stars
the sun and the earth
(on well-met conditions)
i would have given you anything you asked for
and you knew that, didn't you

now i see my faith long gone in someone who isn't you,
because the familiar tilt in your half-smile is gone and the creases under your eyes are much darker than you would allow
i try and ask you where it's gone but the voice that comes out isn't the one that told me it loved me.

so i think i'm losing my faith, and when it's all gone, what will i have left but the husk of what you used to be?
Thomas EG Aug 2015
I go to a party.
You ask to come along.
You join us, you make a mess, we leave and then return...
I try to help.
I always try to help.
I have to take you home, in the end.
You apologise profusely, but I deny your apologies.
I am happy to help.
I feel useful, for once.
Comforting friends is one of the few ways in which I manage to feel useful.
You get home safe.
I'm relieved.
But then she saddens...
She tries to laugh it off, as she says that she's not okay.
As soon as I let her know that it's okay to not be okay, she loses it.
I hold her.
I hold her so tightly.
I rub her arm and pull her body closer to mine.
She feels warm, but I can only imagine how cold she is on the inside.
I make an attempt, but I have no clue how to cheer her up.
If I'm honest, I don't think that she needs to be cheered up at all.
She needs to feel this pain.
She is so incredibly strong and I know that she should let herself feel it.
She needs to accept that it's over.
He's gone.
It's terrible, but he's ******* gone.
"It's sore, it's so sore," she tells me, through her sobs...
I pull her closer still.
I won't ever let her feel this hurt again.
I love her.
More and more friends gather around us and they all love her as much as I do.
As much as he should.
That ******* ****.
We cheer her up, temporarily, and she moves back onto the dancefloor.
They all dance and I go for some air.
They tell me that I am a man in their eyes.
I thank them, and I mean it, yet I can't help but feel sort of off...
I cherish their words, of course, but it shouldn't have to be like this.
I need a distraction.
Whether it be blood trickling down my arm, or smoke filling up my lungs, I want to **** it.
I want to **** this dysphoria.
This feeling of being wrong.
I'd love to feel right, for a change.
Why am I such an outcast?
I don't stand out, because no one sees me, but I definitely don't fit in...
I just want to be myself, inside and out, but I don't have the consent to do so.
They should've realised by now that this is what I need.
I need help.
I need more than just beautiful friends and family and alcohol and pain...
I need reassignment, not just reformation.
I need medical help, not just therapeutical.
I need love, not just care.
Love...
True love.
Sure, the thought counts, but I am in need of one ******* gesture.
One in particular.
I need it to be consensual.
You give me consent to kiss you.
I argue.
YOU DON'T WANT ME.
But you swear that you do.
"I don't want you to feel things," you admit, with tears flooding down your face.
Well, neither do I!
But I can't ******* help it.
I should really sleep, but now I need to feel things.
Something.
Anything.
Even if it is just the tears that I'm crying.
At least it's something.
But sometimes nothing is better than something.
I think we both need to remember that.
So forget your apologies.
I apologise.
I can't feel anything anymore...
I just want to feel euphoria.
I wrote this after a party last night. I wasn't in the greatest mood. (Trigger warning: self-harm.)
neth jones Mar 2022
gods out of the night                                            
out of the nights unnavigable light
luding rosy from the underworld
                 broaching
how you push through my faces
           the posings
  hooking behind the dense furs
     poaching out the peppish reasoning   
            dissolving its obstructive code

you rap me faint between the eyes
     every failure drapes away
           in chronicle and uttered hurt
     all so familiar                                            
            ­        seeming foreignly a warm tutting family
         all volatile material is subdued

       i am voidable soldier                        
          but you hold me in keep
            you are truthfully inclusive
     i feel beloved in animal and otherly
          pandered into the pattern
      all beyond belonging
                      and yet traceable with my many uses

a healing visit and now to business                        
footage provided to make a mood-less operation
i'm kept swaddled throughout my information sift
silt is taken and exchange given                            
                                 for a heady ****** charge

   i've been amazed in the dreams
                                     you provided
       suspended in a solving liquor of theatre
i hope my report was a good one
i woke well rested                          
        with a light feeling of reassignment
Jimmy Timmons Jul 2013
Our thoughts and ideas
Are never our own
Deep within ourselves
A dreamer makes his home

He is of peculiar nature
Always busy and quick to ignore
The piled amounts of information
We feel important to store

Always writing out our daily plans
Things to do, appointments, and chores
Constantly slipping and spilling
Our filed papers all over the floor

He tediously writes "Excuses"
For those he "accidentally" loses
Filing them under all folders
So they may be stocked for all uses

So Teacher, I tell you
It was not I who lost your assignment
The Little Dreamer is the one to blame
Who also is in the process of reassignment
Jade Lima Apr 2021
Sadistic ignorance.
How do I get away from you peoples conniving entitlement and belligerence?
All you people want is to be sadists.
But that doesn't keep life going forward it keeps your targets in remiss.
So as I hope you'll all reach an unspeakable demise.
I'll also hope you all unwillingly run out of time.
Because there's no sense anyone could teach any of you.
Its no wonder life is this petty and misconstrued from your bigoted minds in ugly ******* hues.
Zero Nine Jan 2017
The doctor asks me why I'm here
That's a little open ended, isn't it?
I wish I were as quick, but I think
Too long and explain my case in full
Without any embellishment, I came
Because my back hurts like a mother
Pushing, can't move my leg and now
Painfully both enter and exit bed He
Nods as if he knows, he wants to know
The extensive list of all my meds, three
One, that gets me to the cold side of balance
One, that redistributes fat, hips and *******
One, that bottlenecks testosterone tighter
Than either full ***. Gender reassignment?
He asks so I say yep. Duck Dynasty is on the
TV, in the corner above the room. The papers
Want to know if I'm claustrophobic, I check no.
That is before my first MRI. Before I'm loaded
Feet first. Now I know myself better, too.
The room is hot as he shares the results, bald
Headed sweat drips down a muscular man
Shy of forty, you've ruptured your disks. Three.
One on top of one on top of another. I guess
That in the end I just got too fat, that any extra
Burden collapsed my spine. I swear I do my best,
Avoid any extra psychological stress, but right
Now everyone is dying
Word
Jade Lima Jun 2021
The conspiracy never ends.
And my wrists miss the sting of the blade.
Maybe I'm not completely insane,
But I'm sick and ******* tired of everyone's games.
I'm so ******* dead and being drained of my spirit.
There's no salvation and the misery stays incoherent.
I have a death wish and I don't even fear it.
I'm done with everyone's ignorance.
Stop making me your punching bag because not even I want to hear it.
though thine wife gladly
     (and long time ago)
     verily swept passed
     her final child bearing year

this house broken husband
     genuinely hankers to father
     (yes sire re:to set sea men
     "NOT FAKE," nor NONGMO
     free and reduced)
     and longingly participate
     in parenthood again

     donning baby proof couture wear
analogous (as aye imagine dragons
   fire breathing worth tolerating),
     those who fervently veer

yearning to undergo
     *** reassignment surgery (SRS)
     with unintentional surgeon's delicate tear
aye  thru thoroughly anesthetized flesh,

     (especially genitals under going
     transformational substantial removal
     via said - bravely bite ting the bullet -
     sharp pinching shear)

contemplating, formulating, issuing
     personal specifications to cutting crew
     validating, testifying recapping re: questing
     genitals do not reappear

since significant surgery purport, some hetero
     ****** person might **** sitter queer
yet no doubt a homosexual
     and/or lesbian would ap pear

to understand completely if he/she
     didst unwittingly accidentally overhear
confidential conversation,
     yet warmly reassured the speaker,

     they did not intend to get near
enough to glean enough information
     that said transexual could reduce wardrobe
     with women and/or menswear

and this once distraught,
     distressed, and distributed
     without willingness unfairly
     fated to live stemmed,

     undoubtedly wrought from ****** misalignment,
     would post surgery
     hover off the ground and modestly
     swagger off into the sunset

     (this scenario projection strictly of mine)
anyway he/she could map out in one direction
     destiny describing,
     an upswinging trajectory linear

once future freed where gender now nsync
     with physical gonadal accouterment
unconcerned if urge arises
     to swivel derriere with flare.
-------------------------------------
matthew scott
highland manor apartments
schwenksville, pennsylvania
19473
USA
never could this baby boomer papa –
   lviii orbitz round mister sun as I write while wife
at present (takes her siesta) imagine
   dragons, killer Queen Latifah countless ways,

   thee first of deux daughters
   would in vite learning how to comprehend
   unfamiliar infant siren ear splitting strife
and mandatory pronto reception,
   unwittingly ineluctably altering my life

prior to parturition of our eldest heiress,
   ah wanna let
chew in on a bit about mess elf
   before becoming a papa
   no emotional, financial,
   nor physical obligation dim manned did

   obliged, nor required this bard **** to in debt
any of his waking and sleeping second,
   minute, quotidian hour,
   et cetera on behalf of another person Yukon bet

char sweet bippy, that despite initial onset
   of anticipatory anxiety (no pet
tee personal issue; burping baby,
   diapering, swaddling, et cetera fermi person

   easily got shucked off), hitherto
   didst any phenomena until then
   force displacement of personal habits
   to become secondary, and obviously,

   seriously visibly up set
status quo, where embedded fixations
   housed within this scribe
   required reassignment of tasks
   until salient event forced him to vet
any less important issues

   to an unspecified future
   date and/or time, which role  
   i.e. forsook luxury sans,
   affordable focus on me,
   and immediately didst force crash course
   to keep figurative whet
   stone sharp every waking
   and sleeping moment of me life, yet....

though a crash course imposed  role
   viz immediate adjustment of mister mom
(which obviously necessitated significant sacrifice
   upon the head of this major Tom)

never before until that juncture
   such selfless experience ever met,
but in retrospect salutary outcome
   found thoughts linkedin whereby
   time never divided, partitioned,
   or sectored off to another livingsocial being

I never took care of an infant,
   when her crying heard
   yet, the birth of Eden Liat Harris incurred
   (born at Bryn Mawr Hospital),

an irrevocable positive transformation occurred
within and without
   the world according to Matthew Scott Harris
   got mussed and stirred.

No longer central focus of mein kempf,
   NON GMO, and glue tin free
continual attention to offspring
took precedence not always glee
full, and how receptive lee

toward voluntary selflessness:
   case in point regarding the selfish me
bumped off the long entrenched priority
toward my needs and wants prithee.

A recombinant adjustment incumbent
outlook arose upon freshly minted papa,
   where stork sent
Weltanschauung demanded gent
to reef focus his shift, which meant
twenty four hours, seven days a week

   plus work in order to pay rent
away from him, and directed a tent
shun toward welfare, welcome, and well being
   for totally tubularly dependent new outlook on life,
   especially when spouse went
out for a breathing spell
became priority number
   one thru...infinity, no hard sell

though lacking with any knowhow aye tell
asper tendering attention upon survival
   of (what essentially
   constituted a foreigner), like George Szell
thy senses required rejiggering, which this fell
low highly struggled with cuz,

no handbook (as promised by manufacturer to boot
ever preceded via Sir-vex), nor followed suit
leaving nervous dada in the dark spooked by a hoot
at onset, when our bundle of joy
   more valuable than any amount of loot

could buy, and when back to apartment we did rent
(at that time) Pennfield Manor not heaven sent
situated within breathing distance
   of slaughter house five scent.
Jade Lima Aug 2021
Trapped in a lifeless corpse.
With nowhere to go because I'm caged and chained.
Can't get out of you peoples selfishly ignorant and belligerent plans.
There's no hope to go on because you all forced me onto my last stand.
I'd rather rot in front of you all and make you eat the mess.
There's nothing left except for wanting to get revenge .
But no revenge would ever suffice.
Too many times I've been led to the knife.
I have no control and it's supposed to be my ******* ******* life.
I'm a slave of a puppet and all you people do is steal, cheat and lie.
So as I wait for mine and you peoples demise, I'll hope you all run out of time.
Because there was never any beauty in this horrendous tide.
You all stole away every amount of the sun that had any potential to shine.
So in these darker shades, I'll know I won't be able to turn the page.
I know I can't rearrange my fate.
But I hope it's the end of all of you peoples days.🖕
Forced gender reassignment is *******. I turned into everything I've always hated and it's no thanks to you worthless sacks of ****. I hope you all rot for eternity from the bottom of my tainted heart. I sincerely wish the worst for everyone involved over the age of 12. You all deserve nothing but death. Good riddance swine ****.
I'm looking forward to the day when there is no such thing as gender
When reassignment will not exist
Because there will be no original assignment
When we no longer use
The terms
He or she
But have evolved to use a universal term
To denote any human
I hope I see it
In my life time
Battling TL Leaves B2B
The Fake God finally won the battle
The battling TL got booted out of the B2B account
She asked him how he would feel on it
It’s ok as we’re friends and you’re still here
You reported the Fake God for his six thou wanga
He got another rep to give him and he lost ninety four thou
When suspended that month tho he was finished
The call centre rescinded that and gave him a month rest
He came back as only he can do the job
You reported his lieutenant lap dog for dodgy upsells
The magic number is five users add four to the one you picked
Both are still there like pet dog and food bowl
You mark on the account is noted and in my poems
All the best on your reassignment
And stick with the army training too
Jay earnest Jun 2017
there's a guy at work who just says his name like a pokemon would
and it's ******* hilarious.

HAMMEEED

HAMEEEED


HAMMEEEDD


I AM HAMEED I WILL GET THE SALAMI
THANK YOU FRIEND
HAMEEEEEEED.



smells like diarrhea in a gentle rain
and looks like a turkey after gender reassignment surgery
while having an ******* in an October blizzard


but his tongue is  grey
and so is his hat

HAMEEEEEEEEED


HAMMEEEEEDD.

dumb ******, but his hat
is grey
so I don't judge
and he
picks up worms for cheap when he's still ******
Jade Lima Jul 2020
This life is sickening.
All it holds is bigoted “sadists” with no value other than how much power they can have.
So where’s the meaning?
It’s only deceiving.
I guess I’ve stopped grieving.
But this page now holds a valueless vessel, encased by this sickening shell.
All I can do is dwell.
My life feels like a circle of hell.
And death is always the only way out.
So as I hope you all rot for this merciless petty mess.
I’ll hope that one day life is more than a valueless, senseless, meaningless, misconstrued, petty ******* mess.
How many years before humans can have a gender addition surgery, instead of reassignment?  Why can't I get a *****, and keep my ******?
Freedom from onset of pervasive gloom
(attendant with profusely perspiring palms,
hut tree men duh us aggravation), would be
a dog send to this melon collie bow wow
wing **** sapien aging baby boomer.

I already attend weekly counseling (no
weeknd) in tandem with experiencing
alleviation linkedin to severe anxiety,
depression, obsessive compulsive disorder.

Courtesy of father's litte helpers (Buspirone
Hydrochloride Tablets 15 mg twice daily,
Clonazepam 0.5mg tablet once daily,
Clomipramine 50 mg once daily, Fluoxetine

HCL 20 mg once daily, and Fluoxetine HCL
40 mg twice daily), prescription medications
considerably diminish disabling severity to
function, which afflicted yours truly soon
after being borne circa January thirteenth mcmlix.

Beset with psychological distress manifested
by physiological symptoms nsync with Inxs
adrenaline triggering heart palpitations, irritable
bowel syndrome, nausea, and vertigo said
unrelenting panic attacks considerably less

immobilizing prior to readily assenting to rely
on synthesized biochemical pharmacologically
manufactured as the next best option verses,
(no gallows humor pun intended) "magic bullet"
triggered by presed firearm.

Despite medicare coverage to acquire manufactured
selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, as a benefit
long since being deemed eligible to receive social
security disability, every now and again mine
mental health state pitched into abysmal despair,
an emotional nadir fraught with greater predilection
to inflict permanent self-harm possibly...premature demise.

Ah...without cloud crowdsourcing doubt, this mortal
man would hanker to plead within his genuine schizoid
personality disordered body to become free and clear
of life figuratively weighed down with bajillion pound
millstone gravely dark shadows synonymous with edge

of night prevalent with outer limits of twilight zone.
While awaiting (with increasing anticipation), which
salvation I can never ketchup with will find me
steadfastly, (albeit grudgingly) popping pills.

Plus, this holistic hombre resorts to transcendental
medication and physical exercise incorporating two
(one for each hand) dumbbells.

Meantime...an effort to seek succor availed sought out
by The Wizard of Ozzy Osbourne (waiver place he lives).
Hmmm most certain, he would be most accessible
upon a Black Sabbath.

If not him...this schlepper will trod along the boulevard
of broken dreams, yes - most definitely on a greenday.

Ever the cautious optimist, aye hopefully stumble across
an antiquated lantern pleasantly surprised when (after
carefully dusting off accumulated detritus), a garden
variety genii unexpectedly appears.

She/he, (perhaps after transgender reassignment
originally a him/her), would bewitch and spellbind
me after asking "wiccan I do for you," and deliver
immediate coveted ampoule, essentially a placebo.

Peace at last, plus long and fostered relief from
agonizing mental torture.
    
Without doubt, a greater probable chance more
favorable for this luckless male to win lottery (even
just a paltry million dollars), despite steep odds,
as opposed feeling akin to Atlas bearing weight
of world wide web!

Please feel free to toss pennies, nickels, dimes...
into virtual Fountain Head.
One “FAKE” rumor purports April Fools’ Day
accepted with hostile abandonment
according to Giggle ling search result
conducted by this gent
adopted when France switched

rather than fight abolishment
transitioning from Julian calendar
to Gregorian calendar,
(yet maintaining same gender reassignment)
called for by the Council of Trent

affecting chronological abridgement
forthrightly, immediately, and
magically decreeing making
with flourish of inkhorn - prestidigitation
"****" quite few months absent

necessitating rejiggering
displaced vanished days forcing
latter time keeping paradigm absorbent,
asper sands of time no matter such
figurative tectonic shift population

aghast at August accomplishment
and probably did March in protest,
cuz entire season,
sans couture accouterment
suddenly rendered obsolete and unfashionable

manually crafted, swiftly tailored, and
harry styled clothes no mean achievement,
and uninformed folks got hashtagged
kindled, and named plenti admonishment
visited on their person such as

bumsteads, dolts, fools, et cetera
howling guffaws when derriere adornment
slapped with "kick me steady ***,"
or stuck with tail like appurtenances
eventually this "FAKE" – advancement

ha ha April fools historical joke
became embedded tradition inn advertent
lee established meshugas, where Jews
and especially gentiles went meshugoyim
generating cottage (cheesy) industry,

and brisk business for nascent advertisement
industry, (albeit handily horse drawn
attention grabbing kiln fired tablets)
mainly for (Philly buzzfeed string) affluent,
who secured lifelong gentlemen's agreement
with artisan, and of apprenticed trumpeting sons

(after tithe thing allotment) earnings
portion squirrelled away for rainy
May Day festivities ambient
brouhaha babushka's celebrating divine comedy
21st century poet tindered mild amusement
regarding this "FAKE" flight of fancy!
alimony = spousal support
abortionist = abortion provider
spying (on a woman) = stalking
nurse, orderly, medic = care worker (British)
flown = airlifted
social worker = community worker
criminal = wrongdoer
crime = wrongdoing
interrogation = interview
car lot = auto center
torture = pain compliance; enhanced interrogation techniques
suspect = person of interest
housewife = home maker = stay-at-home mom
court house = justice center
prison = confinement center
school = learning center
garbage dump = landfill
antique = vintage
caretaker = caregiver
crippled = physically challenged
tradesman = trades worker
soldier = service member
medical care = healthcare
doctor = healthcare provider
clinic = health center
hospital = health
socialized medicine = universal healthcare
house builder = home builder
Department of War = Department of Defense
war = intervention
occupation (of a foreign nation) = nation building
illegal aliens = undocumented immigrants
medic = emergency medical technician, E.M.T.
nursery = daycare center
nursing home = assistant living facility
arrested = detained
imprisoned = detained
prisoner = detainee
prison = detention center
prison guard = C.O., corrections officer
eyeglasses = eye wear
shoes = footwear
policeman = police officer/law enforcement officer
police station = law enforcement center
fireman = firefighter
sportsman = sportsperson
sportsmen = sportspeople
puddling = ponding
enemy = terrorist
infanticide = right to choose
79¢ = .79¢
mistake = miscommunication
blockade = sanctions
waiter/waitress = server
check = cash
bomb = improvised explosive device (I.E.D.)
gals = guys
wife beating = domestic violence
*** change = gender reassignment
******* = transgender
***** = *** worker
stewardess = flight attendant
citizen = civilian
government overthrow = regime change
The Orient = Asia
Oriental = Asian
Afro-American = African American
Indian = native American
Internal Revenue Dept. = Internal Revenue Service
workmen's compensation = workers compensation (without possessive apostrophe)
meeting = meet-up/meetup
snitch, fink, stool pigeon, stoolie = spy, informant
side dish = side
meter maid = parking-enforcement officer
unloaded = downloaded,  off loaded
goal = endgame
sportsmen = sportspeople
physical = wellness screening
***, ***** = homeless person
destitute = homeless
destitution = homelessness
watch man = security guard/officer
nursing  home = care home with nursing  (England)
chairman = chair
P.O.W., prisoner of war (citizen) = civilian internee
rescue Mission = homeless shelter
mail = mailpiece (according to the post ofc.)
employee = team member
I did the ***, drugs, and rock and roll thing
But it didn't actually, teach me anything
Back then, there was no internet to investigate
No books in libraries, about my kind of state
So i adopted, the then hippie style fashion
To avoid any kind, of trans bashing
It allowed me, to grow my hair long
So i was more in tune, with my kind of song
With an afghan coat, and cheesecloth shirt
Petula oil, hippy beads, but never a skirt
At the age of fifteen, i left my home
After fourteen schools, i was destined to roam
So off i ventured, into the big wide world
Waiting to see, how my life would be unfurled
After much wandering, and travelling around
Aged 27, i momentarily landed, on a different ground
I got married, then within a year, divorced
My life was still veering, way of course
Yet within five years, to subdue my fears
I met my second wife, together for 23 years
Yet still i had a secret, which i kept at bay
That i knew i was a woman, in almost every way
I knew things were ending, and life felt weird
When my wife, got me to cut my hair, and to grow a beard
I understood why, she just wanted to man me up
As i supped in the misery, like a dying buttercup
Me, and my daughter, then moved down here
Much stress was happening, i couldn't allay my fears
After two years, my daughter to her mother went back
Then returned two years later, in time for my heart attack
During those four years in total, much had occurred
Finding my mother dead, made redundant, it became absurd
I'd already seen my GP, to talk about my gender
And had gone to London several times, to put in my tender
But because of my heart, my GRS was put on hold
And thought back then, it was unlikely i'd achieve my goal
Yet 22 months, and two heart surgeries later
I was as ready, as a toothless alligator
On the 30th May 2019, i had my gender reassignment surgery
I cannot lie, it was painful, screamingly at first, no purgery
I told friends, it was done in Wimbledon, as i had some doubt
That i'd return as a Womble, or a tennis player with gout?
But all had gone as expected, and i recovered well
My butterfly wings had grown, as i flew out of my secret hell
Never imagining, that just three years on
Telling people a brief history of my life, what could possibly go wrong?
I have many friends, that are lgbtq+, without debate
But many of my friends are also straight
All my change, was thanks to the NHS
I had told them my truths, without any redress
So my message to anyone, whatever their age
Don't rush into this, do it stage by stage
Whatever you do, be you bold, or shy
You will gain you wings and be a beautiful butterfly
Find a good GP, that is helpful, and kind
That doesn't treat you, like you're out of your mind
That the whole process, from beginning to end
Is worth it, as you become your own best friend

by Jemia
I found life modelling
As an easy choice to make
As easy
As my gender reassignment surgery
Both choices
Were mine to make
I did not choose
To find my mother dead
To have a heart attack
To be beaten to a pulp
On at least five occasions
One included two snooker ***** in a sock
Repeatedly beaten over the head
To be in a car crash at 70mph
To be repeatedly punished as a child
To go to fourteen different schools
T o be bullied at most of the
As a new kid
To live in constant fear of violence
To be so sensitive, but glad i was
Although at first
Felt it was a curse
But later realised it was my strength
I realised
And expected little more
That many people
Were like seagulls
Randomly ******* on you
But now
I'm learning to trust people again
I have met lots of butterflies
That float with you
As you glide along
In the breeze together
The angst
Still rears up sometimes
But it is an anagram of gnats
And sometimes
Like gnats
It bites

by Jemia
When i was younger
I was told
I was one eighth
Scottish
Ive spent
Over fifty years
Trying to discover
The whereabouts
Of this Scottish part of me
And not knowing
Whether, or not
It may of been removed
When i had my
Gender reassignment surgery
Tossed a few cabers
Enjoyed some haggis
Worn a few kilts
(Don't like whisky)
Taken a few, high, and low roads
Semi resillient to cold weather
Hair is red (copper dyed)
And love unicorns
Can't remember which clan
But it was a dark green tartan
And lastly
Possess a certificate
That declared
That i was
A Scottish Laird!
(ps: I'm now a Lady of the Lakes! got a certificate for that too!)

by Jemia
A Tribute To Jay

Ning nang nicky, och aye the noo
Here's a little ditty, written for you
For your support, at Lets Get Working
Assisted me, with my litter pick, nobody shirking
Referred me initially, to Arts On Prescription
A wonderful place,beyond description
Organised a laptop,that had zoom connection
Had it delivered, no need for collection
Also some funding, for my post-cardiac gym
I not only got healthier, but maintained being slim
Helped with confirming, my gender reassignment surgery date
Time was running out, medical info, was running late
Also pointed me in the direction, of Carer For The Carers charity
As you knew i could help them, with my voice of clarity
Provided seeds, for my indoor garden
Apart from the tomatoes, i ask for your pardon!
And for many months, once a week on zoom
We chatted for an hour, or more, each from our lockdown room
So thank you Jay, for your helping hand
And i wish you success, in your 'pastures new' land
And also a thanks, for the paper, and pens
My life has been enriched, with you as a friend

by Jemia
alimony = spousal support
abortionist = abortion provider
spying (on a woman) = stalking
nurse, orderly, medic = care worker (British)
flown = airlifted
social worker = community worker
criminal = wrongdoer
crime = wrongdoing
interrogation = interview
car lot = auto center
torture = pain compliance; enhanced interrogation techniques
suspect = person of interest
housewife = home maker = stay-at-home mom
court house = justice center
prison = confinement center
school = learning center
garbage dump = landfill
antique = vintage
caretaker = caregiver
crippled = physically challenged
tradesman = trades worker
soldier = service member
medical care = healthcare
doctor = healthcare provider
clinic = health center
hospital = health
socialized medicine = universal healthcare
house builder = home builder
Department of War = Department of Defense
war = intervention
occupation (of a foreign nation) = nation building
illegal aliens = undocumented immigrants
medic = emergency medical technician, E.M.T.
nursery = daycare center
nursing home = assistant living facility
arrested = detained
imprisoned = detained
prisoner = detainee
prison = detention center
prison guard = C.O., corrections officer
eyeglasses = eye wear
shoes = footwear
policeman = police officer/law enforcement officer
police station = law enforcement center
fireman = firefighter
sportsman = sportsperson
sportsmen = sportspeople
puddling = ponding
enemy = terrorist
infanticide = right to choose
79¢ = .79¢
mistake = miscommunication
blockade = sanctions
waiter/waitress = server
check = cash
bomb = improvised explosive device (I.E.D.)
gals = guys
wife beating = domestic violence
*** change = gender reassignment
******* = transgender
***** = *** worker
stewardess = flight attendant
citizen = civilian
government overthrow = regime change
The Orient = Asia
Oriental = Asian
Afro-American = African American
Indian = native American
Internal Revenue Dept. = Internal Revenue Service
workmen's compensation = workers compensation (without possessive apostrophe)
meeting = meet-up/meetup
snitch, fink, stool pigeon, stoolie = spy, informant
side dish = side
meter maid = parking-enforcement officer
unloaded = downloaded,  off loaded
goal = endgame
sportsmen = sportspeople
physical = wellness screening
***, ***** = homeless person
destitute = homeless
destitution = homelessness
watch man = security guard/officer
nursing  home = care home with nursing  (England)
chairman = chair
P.O.W., prisoner of war (citizen) = civilian internee
rescue Mission = homeless shelter
mail = mailpiece (according to the post ofc.)
employee = team member
Whereby yours truly presages and doth abhor
nothing short of an imminent civil war
dwarfing insurrection on January 6, 2021
oddly enough even reducing
ordinary decibels to a mute whisper
madding crowd trumpeting cacophony of ˈthȯr
drowning out sense and sensibility
allowing, enabling, and providing
golden opportunity for anarchy to run rampant
one issuing, earthshaking, and booming
as one collective soul with pride

against prejudice queercore
amidst pandemonium of lawlessness
voices at the forefront ear splitting din
most all social media platforms
buzzfeeding, jump/kickstarting,
and twittering bigotry,
gender inequity, and misogyny nevermore
gender diversity celebrated
reveling harmoniously think
arranged marriage of Kokila and Kishore
parents (most likely deceased)

of Menil and Amit,
one former best high school buddy
with my youngest sister Shari Todd
for most of her sixty three years an herbivore,
and in most respects the antithesis of Eeyore,
(a pessimistic, gloomy, depressed,
anhedonic, old grey stuffed donkey
and friend of title character, Winnie-the-Pooh),
the former would never stand a chance stayin alive
during the reign of brontosaur,
and other so called terrible lizards.

Aforementioned fatalistic political forecast
would translate as absolute zero freedoms
as entrusted with Declaration of Independence,
and Constitution, which incendiary rhetoric
already trumpeted courtesy Republican
dictator wannabe, who will eviscerate
any and all social progressive policies
would essentially leave a **** government
devoid of recognizable Democratic polity.

Lemme plagiarize myself
and express sardonic wit
alliteration with the letter "R,"
I gleefully, playfully, and zestfully transmit
the following poem,
the proto antagonist
will nary even garner an obit
no dead giveaway signs
only brave hearts pointing *******
subtly signaling welcome
to the black parade, the sole intermit
where gewgaws (trolls)
with orange hair sold.

revealing Ronald **** revisited.

Regarding ridiculous rhymeless
ruminative rhythm rankles readers.

Repugnant racist Republican reviled -
rickettsia re:itch ruler
rapaciously ravaged
revered reverential rubric
radical ruthless renegade
rapidly riotously rips rigged ramparts
Refrains retaining remnant
redolent regal, resplendent rafters
riches rudely rupture rooted rectified rights
ruckus ricochets revenant reign
ratified rattlebrained rules roil reductionism.
rumbustious rapscallions rollick;
render ruinous ramifications
rusty razor razing revenge rents reprisal.

Rabid ****** rictus
rotten rebrands re-calibrate.
rambunctious revolutionaries rejoice.
ruffians ride roughshod
routing reigning royalty.

Reiterate revetting robust recidivist rationality
rides Rolls Royce
relentlessly rendering rock ribbing.

Riffraff raconteur raise reactionary response
revisit rancorous restrictive
redlined realigned rightward rivets
Robocop ridiculously
rubber-stamped reorganization
recalcitrant reactors release rapture
rash Russian roulette reconnaissance
raconteurs rack rubles.

Red room reflects Republican RNA.
rap risible rheumy ratiocinated
rug-rats revoke righteous refulgent repertory
rapier robed robbers
ransack reliquary resounding retaliation
retaliatory redcoat regnum
reformation rightly remembered
Rudy robotically recoiling rapprochement
Raison d'être rosily revered
rifled relics raffled
rookie raves ripe rackful
rubenesque reliably ranked
refulgent rotundity requisite
requirement re: reappointment
road-tested, roadworthy
redeem reapportion routed role.

Reprehensible reassignment
rapidly recognizes response
rife rampage removes respectability
responsible roused restitution refuted
risky resultant reconnoitering runaway
railroad reverberates rivalry.

Reflexive ramrod reaction
reconfirms redoubling ridding revitalization
reconfiguration realpolitik reinstates repudiation;
Rebooting Roosevelt regime reconsidered.

Requisition requires resilient reseeding republic
regrettable riley roars remorseless ribbing
rare recount restoring recondite
renown reprobate Rapunzel.

Republican representatives
rejoice reclaiming reins
registering ******* romantic remains
re: Rastafarian revered reliquary rests!
Well for starters Nationwide
road service emergency
one man cutting crew
with battery charger in tow knew
exactly why no juice (think electricity),
his hunch found trunk light kept lit,
an innocent looking (to me or you)
lady's handbag accouterment,

fifty shades of blue
stuck out just enough did cue
automotive technician, who
witnessed yours truly flapping
imaginary wings (think) cuckoo
unwittingly, irretrievably, and
admirably lost me scant sanity true
"fake" news I trumpet as a gentile Jew...

Just in time for men
rhythmically singing, melodiously
acapella harmonizing huzzah olé
in white coats besotted and
bespattered with vegetable puree
to take me away

**-** hee-hee ha-haaa
hip...hip... hooray
to the funny farm yea,
where life beautiful every day
and skies fifty shades of gray...

Thus, the reason I type pell mell
(think hunt and peck),
an inner madness to quell,
while hermetically locked in padded cell
shut airtight like... a citadel

which soundproof environment hell
lava hot improvement versus dwell
ling with volcanic spouse, and well
equipped to nurture solitude, ah... nobody,
but me and Matty mattel

both of us undergoing re education
initiated courtesy crack atop
noggin tinnitus subsequently
experiencing ringing like liberty bell
afterwards undergoing gender reassignment

clearly yours truly exuded effeminate spell
not recognizing only muttering to himself
fancifully dolled up
as debutante mademoiselle,
and appearing sitting pretty I willingly tell.

Twas glorious occasion regarding
miracles of modern medicine to sing
namely routine engineered
*** change, bitty bing
bitty bang minus one
minor glitch really... nothing

but doggone veteran (aery) surgeon
pulled off bone huff eyed gracefully amazing
stunt at my expense unwittingly injecting
canine female hormonal secretions,
hence I find myself barking, *******
and strong desire burning
to frequent fire hydrants.
I am classed as transgender
Yet feel i am truegender
And for all of what it's worth
I was born with 21 digits, at my birth
So i spent 60 years, man back to childhood
But would release the inner female, whenever i could
Back in time, with no technology to play
When it was dangerous, even to be gay
So i donned an Afghan coat, and grew my hair long
Regularly indulged, in the occasional ****
Cheesecloth shirts, Petula oil, and beads
Met some lovely women, in which to sow seeds
Whilst hiding behind, my true woman self
Putting that behind, a discretely hidden shelf
There were no resources, to research my thoughts
Tried following instincts, remaining self-taught
In my search for answers, i slept with some men
But that wasn't for me, so didn't do it again
Felt like an alien, from a far of world
Carried on with life, to see what unfurled
When my second marriage, came to an end
The internet became an educator, and kind of friend
Led me to my doctor, for some simple advice
As could not live my life, living with lies
So my true life journey, began all afresh
Was not about my mind, just about the flesh
So i followed the route, proffered to me
Spoke to professionals, of ******-analysis, and psychiatry
They in unison agreed, i was doing the right thing
To adjusting my physical self, to match my mind, would let my heart sing
So at long last, my journey had begun
And in a few years, the process would be done
But then on 18th July, in twenty seventeen
Something dramatic happened, that was unforeseen
After forty years of smoking, and ****, and living in dread
Had a major heart attack, but for an emergency op, could of been dead
The skills of the surgeon, four stents were carefully placed
My hopes of transition, were quickly displaced
Just three weeks later, redundancy came my way
Liquidation of company i worked for, added to the dismay
But within a year, i was attending a gym
To build up my heart muscles, and remain being slim
And although my transition, was on indefinite hold
There was still a chance, so i was told
I had given up, but at least was still alive
But thought that moment, was unlikely to arrive
Yet against all odds, that i had in my thoughts
The light at tunnels end, so soon to be caught
More trips to Londinium, and return journeys back
The course of discussions suggested, i was back on track
Until finally in 2019, on 30th May last year
I had my Gender Reassignment Surgery, Dear!
So now i live, with one digit less
My mind remains the same, i can still play chess
This is simply my story, how my life began to unfold
Others in a similar position, may have different stories to be told
But ultimately, be we people, aliens, or elves
We all strive, when possible, to simply be ourselves

— The End —