OMG Forgot About Pride Month LOL

Jun24

To Birds Who Swim in Fishy Notions

a POEM in thirteen quatrains

Apples will be cantaloupes
depending on their nurture;
and so I cherish rainbow hopes
for Man’s our collective future.

Oranges elect their hue
improving Nature’s seal,
while pronouns stifle what is true
suppressing the appeal.

Fruits may choose to change to nuts
and fowls select their plumage.
Why settle in Tradition’s ruts?
Such rigid roles do damage.

Nuts in turn, may feel like flowers,
picking how and when to bloom.
So ambisexual thought empowers
androgynes to court their doom.

A leopard, too, may change his spots
(or turn into a vegan bunny)
No law’s tittles, neither jots
make Speciesism funny.

If you decide to see it so
the sky above is yellow.
Perceive as pink the grass beneath
and better times must follow.

Gender? Merely social constructs—
preach it to the masses
until tradition self-destructs
and sex takes off her glasses.

Babies need no Dad (nor Mother):
sexist labels, obsolete.
Love is blind. There is no other.
Bats must bark and chickens bleat.

Integrated water closets
show how far we have evolved:
urinary bank deposits
with no member account involved.

Foolish thinking from the past
(like water being wet, and such)
calls for re-education, fast.
The State will lend its human touch

compelling all to sing the hymn
with genderfluid motions…
so birds can preen their scales and swim
in dry and waveless oceans.

(Yet “hymn” sounds sexist said out loud.
We ought to sing a her instead…
no—make that us, since we are proud,
lest misconceptions be misread.)

Shake a healthy dose of salt
upon this strange post-modern food.
May God re-set us to default
with human common sense renewed.

♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿

PRIDE POETRY !

Trans World Air Lines

Mar11

Too little and of course, too late
they spend what’s left imprudently
attempting to alleviate
the love of God’s own liberty:
The world transexual one-party state.

They think it’s normal — right for all
lost in a prideful dying fall
their lions heed the sea-horse call
attempting to transgender fate;
the devil searches for a mate
his nightly Babylonian date:
the world transexual one-party state.

They’ll legislate the Lord away
(his fundie followers as well)
their hateful heaven, holy hell
shall wither up and disappear
before redemption can draw near.
Their myths no more shall obfuscate
nor dangle such celestial bait
that underwriters overrate:
the world transexual one-party state.

Their antichrist is overpriced,
the nations, globally enticed,
now glorify the deviance
in herd-like mass obedience
surrendering to expedience:
where good is bad, and bad is great
and Christ the only one to hate,
allegiances exacerbate
the world transsexual one-party state.

Parties will form and parties end
but parties can no more defend
consolidation into one
than flip a switch and dark the sun;
the Caesars left this part undone
the Muslims are just having fun
with our transsexual one-party state.

Bring on the night until we see
that dark means dimming by degree
two parties? Overdone by one !
So let it bleed and let it be
till One is All and all agree
that we are doomed to hesitate
when God cannot resuscitate
the late One-World Transsexual State.

genderFreeRainbow4

Blind Date

Apr3

Frumptart meets Trumptard: it’s bliss forever!

Rainbow twins make pink Indian Summer

Poke your hontas, indigenous lover,

Till Twitter-dumb gets Twittering-dumber.

Having had my fill of a noxious brew

(Militant Marxist Genderqueer free verse),

My soul now seeks a less venomous view:

Write more poetry! Dispel this global curse.

Today’s prompt asked me to do what I always do when I attempt a poem:

PROMPT #3: Today’s optional prompt asks you to make a list of ten words. You can generate this list however you’d like – pull a book off the shelf and find ten words you like, name ten things you can see from where you’re sitting, etc. Now, for each word, use Rhymezone to identify two to four similar-sounding or rhyming words.

A rousing hymn to techno-spring.
Please kneel for social distancing.
(Consider what you’re worshiping.)

New strains infect the melody:
A chord of biochemistry
Invading imperceptibly . . .

No longer dim or vague, but viral
Airborne fears begin to spiral.
Breath: a pulmonary trial.

Parties perish. Nations sigh.
Decrees are ordered from on high
Intending to demystify.

Our faces pushed to lifeless screens
Seeking solace from machines,
Placing faith in new vaccines . . .

Breaking news appears satanic:
Lemmings, in Pavlovian panic
Render rulers megalomanic.

City-dwellers bought the farm;
Chinese numbers quell alarm,
Mother Nature to disarm.

Bureaucrats drone on. World health:
A strategy of Marxist stealth
To siphon off our nation’s wealth.

Consolidating more control,
A cashless one-world rule their goal.
Read your Bible. Guard your soul.

Feathered Boas and All

Mar31

Plumed Serpent/Fabled Phoenix/Rare Black Swan:
Let Poetry now shoot you from the sky;
Your sin, though trendy, shall no more rage on . . .
They’ll see you’re just a Dodo by and by.

You puffed and fanned, a dazzling Peacock Star
It’s high time you descended here to earth.
We see you for the Emu that you are:
Your gender, like your sex—assigned at birth.

CONNECT/HOOK

POETIC FLUX

Tag Archives: genderqueer poetry

OMG Forgot About Pride Month LOL

To Birds Who Swim in Fishy Notions

a POEM in thirteen quatrains

Apples will be cantaloupes
depending on their nurture;
and so I cherish rainbow hopes
for Man’s our collective future.

Oranges elect their hue
improving Nature’s seal,
while pronouns stifle what is true
suppressing the appeal.

Fruits may choose to change to nuts
and fowls select their plumage.
Why settle in Tradition’s ruts?
Such rigid roles do damage.

Nuts in turn, may feel like flowers,
picking how and when to bloom.
So ambisexual thought empowers
androgynes to court their doom.

A leopard, too, may change his spots
(or turn into a vegan bunny)
No law’s tittles, neither jots
make Speciesism funny.

If you decide to see it so
the sky above is yellow.
Perceive as pink the grass beneath
and better times must follow.

Gender? Merely social constructs—
preach it to the masses
until tradition self-destructs
and sex takes off her glasses.

Babies need no Dad (nor Mother):
sexist labels, obsolete.
Love is blind. There is no other.
Bats must bark and chickens bleat.

Integrated water closets
show how far we have evolved:
urinary bank deposits
with no member account involved.

Foolish thinking from the past
(like water being wet, and such)
calls for re-education, fast.
The State will lend its human touch

compelling all to sing the hymn
with genderfluid motions…
so birds can preen their scales and swim
in dry and waveless oceans.

(Yet “hymn” sounds sexist said out loud.
We ought to sing a her instead…
no—make that us, since we are proud,
lest misconceptions be misread.)

Shake a healthy dose of salt
upon this strange post-modern food.
May God re-set us to default
with human common sense renewed.

♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿

PRIDE POETRY !

Trans World Air Lines

Blind Date

Today’s prompt asked me to do what I always do when I attempt a poem:

Feathered Boas and All

PROMPT: write a poem about your favorite bird

more rare plumage HERE

To Birds Who Swim in Fishy Notions

a POEM in thirteen quatrains

Apples will be cantaloupes depending on their nurture; and so I cherish rainbow hopes for Man’s our collective future.

Oranges elect their hue improving Nature’s seal, while pronouns stifle what is true suppressing the appeal.

Fruits may choose to change to nuts and fowls select their plumage. Why settle in Tradition’s ruts? Such rigid roles do damage.

Nuts in turn, may feel like flowers, picking how and when to bloom. So ambisexual thought empowers androgynes to court their doom.

A leopard, too, may change his spots (or turn into a vegan bunny) No law’s tittles, neither jots make Speciesism funny.

If you decide to see it so the sky above is yellow. Perceive as pink the grass beneath and better times must follow.

Gender? Merely social constructs— preach it to the masses until tradition self-destructs and sex takes off her glasses.

Babies need no Dad (nor Mother): sexist labels, obsolete. Love is blind. There is no other. Bats must bark and chickens bleat.

Integrated water closets show how far we have evolved: urinary bank deposits with no member account involved.

Foolish thinking from the past (like water being wet, and such) calls for re-education, fast. The State will lend its human touch

compelling all to sing the hymn with genderfluid motions… so birds can preen their scales and swim in dry and waveless oceans.

(Yet “hymn” sounds sexist said out loud. We ought to sing a her instead… no—make that us, since we are proud, lest misconceptions be misread.)

Shake a healthy dose of salt upon this strange post-modern food. May God re-set us to default with human common sense renewed.

♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿♂?♀¿

PRIDE POETRY !

Today’s prompt asked me to do what I always do when I attempt a poem:

PROMPT: write a poem about your favorite bird

more rare plumage HERE

Apples will be cantaloupes
depending on their nurture;
and so I cherish rainbow hopes
for Man’s our collective future.

Oranges elect their hue
improving Nature’s seal,
while pronouns stifle what is true
suppressing the appeal.

Fruits may choose to change to nuts
and fowls select their plumage.
Why settle in Tradition’s ruts?
Such rigid roles do damage.

Nuts in turn, may feel like flowers,
picking how and when to bloom.
So ambisexual thought empowers
androgynes to court their doom.

A leopard, too, may change his spots
(or turn into a vegan bunny)
No law’s tittles, neither jots
make Speciesism funny.

If you decide to see it so
the sky above is yellow.
Perceive as pink the grass beneath
and better times must follow.

Gender? Merely social constructs—
preach it to the masses
until tradition self-destructs
and sex takes off her glasses.

Babies need no Dad (nor Mother):
sexist labels, obsolete.
Love is blind. There is no other.
Bats must bark and chickens bleat.

Integrated water closets
show how far we have evolved:
urinary bank deposits
with no member account involved.

Foolish thinking from the past
(like water being wet, and such)
calls for re-education, fast.
The State will lend its human touch

compelling all to sing the hymn
with genderfluid motions…
so birds can preen their scales and swim
in dry and waveless oceans.

(Yet “hymn” sounds sexist said out loud.
We ought to sing a her instead…
no—make that us, since we are proud,
lest misconceptions be misread.)

Shake a healthy dose of salt
upon this strange post-modern food.
May God re-set us to default
with human common sense renewed.