Long Trans Poems
Long Trans Poems. Below are the most popular long Trans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trans poems by poem length and keyword.
I was going to add a long remix track to a playlist,
A playlist called ‘Waitin For the Bus in the Dark’,
But waitin for the bus in the dark is as tedious as it is -
Making a remix tedious alongside it wouldn’t make sense.
The remix is exciting now -
Anticipating excitement knocking on my eardrums as I wonder how the tune will change.
But next time,
If I play it too soon,
I’ll know.
I’ll just know.
Knowing keeps listening from being curious,
And makes it here we go again.
But “here we go again” are lyrics in an excellent song -
1973 by James Blunt.
Maybe I could add that with the remix to the playlist
And never know which will play first.
Maybe I could add so many songs
That twill be one unmemorable remix
That won’t all play in the time I’m waiting for the bus,
One unmemorable remix that Spotify can shuffle out of order.
The bus I’m waiting for now is too long away
To make it to my trans support group before it ends,
So I’ll make my way home
And bump into an old friend
Who must have started to find me tedious
Or forgotten about me,
Like a song on shuffle that barely plays,
Forgotten how good it is.
Listlessly ever fixing form
to the macabre,
a mosaic of shadows
laid turquoise wings
into supreme blackness
as a charm,
from the intersession of light
I bore misery as my shield
I was silhouettes
in masquerade,
a mannequin of ash
ever shifted to wake
between one
trans-morphing
entranced in movement
my disguise failed
a Mueddin beckoning
from the minaret
you,
called me to prayer
without doubt
the weight
of a darken hand
lifts,
I chant
in endless mercy
my grainy
empire crumbles
as misery’s shield
dismantles
to dust
I stepped free
as darkened
fingers of night
still,
ever plucked
at dark fibers in spirit
smoothing your finger
around the rim,
erased all shade
in its retreat
I am now,
the chalice
forged with hands
that filigreed with faith
alas now,
Avalon calls me home
Brahms pushes a piano into my ear.
I hear the stool creak as he sits.
He does not introduce the music,
he expects me to remember it,
know it, eat it.
He lights up a Havana,
clarinet and violin cough
inside a woody cochlear.
Viola takes hold
of a long nostalgic ligament
loosening a stirrup bone.
Bearded old Brahms
shifts from one large butt cheek
to another,
chords shudder
the music trans-locates us
as we share the lingering hint
of Bratwurst
on his nicotine stained fingers.
Not being musically trained
I am grateful
to accompany a cello and viola
on a kazoo
shaped like a nose.
Yours is my sacred non-zero soul
core center shared
within
Surrounded by your robust
fertile
masculine energy
Not to exploit
and yet not too shy
Not too retractive
nor extractive,
equipoised
Anticipating
our cooperative re-investing,
powerfully ebbing
and succulently flowing
further enculturating future.
So, I do not cheat without you
in my most polypathic
panentheistic imaged way,
Always knowing we must each
separately
and full-clothed return
to yet another Patriarchal
White Capitalist dominant
LeftBrain academically
monoculturally anthro-supremacist
Straight Day
Our monotheistic Way
on Earth
waiting for full
and edifying thrusts
of and from
multicultural indigenous EarthTribe trust
in octaved sensory
resolving light
and musical resounding sound
Imagining
engaging
co-empathic RightHemisphere senses heard
and felt
in nonzero whole-sum
resplendently glad non-choices
CoEmpowered both/and opportunities
CoInfested
hot and hasty
awaiting win/win economic
and political play.
Doing my wholesome
whole sums
holy nonzero full of life
so not so win/lose unwholesome
empty entropy
unbecoming
Is not here where Eden
promised my wounded child
GreenPeace
restorying panentheistic
omniscient
WholeSum Systemic
yang-yintegral
resilient health pay ways
Way to say
You are the egocenter
within my ecosystemic
copassions gay
Taurus full-octaved
yang yintegral octane
regenerative DNA
poetic display
noetic fray
In a land-linear
and a deep sea-full
of repercussive 1/0
co-binary fruitful
erotic
sacred organic
double-binding fun
In between EarthPowered yintegrity
and HeavenLighting yang sun
Solar systemic enlightened
by indigenously sun-powered EarthTribe
Healthy selfcare flowing fun...
Inside/Outside pun...
Ego/Eco systemic run...
PolyCultural languaged plum...
Yang/Yintegral polymathic
polynomially polypathic
polyvagal neurosystemic
nutrients of super-positive health
Balancing ecological green wealth
living
organic Whole Systemic
language voices
nonviolent win/win
optimizing trans-connecting choices
So, in a way
I could not win cheating on your loss
in our most polypathic
panentheistic win/win privileged way
polyculturally healthy
within this singularly wealthy
gay day.
Your judgments have me grinning.
Don't pretend you were immune
from the Avarice of Pride.
Which you delved past cover packet
into the gutworm of stardoms naked lunch?
Unfolding the artwork of your Deathsnake Bands- ministering to idol hands,
wandering the scent of artwork sleeve.
'Scent of new jacket
with walking around money in the pockets
made of 'feited hourglass sand.
Do you not find it pathetic and ugly,
to keep chanting me me me?
I like how they are stringed pearls of sos-,
smokerings,
death row-,
'peals of that Apple
"standing up to be counted with pi
and to give account"
as a bridge to understanding your insanity
and to give creedence to your selfish lies
of phi,
relational patterns of why is the sky...
-
Maggots of your own carrion luggage
left to fester to the Son.
Sacrificial Poseidon Aquariums,
Babylon Hanging Gardens,
Bloodsport of perceived insects in arena of jar, of Leviathan Media Priests and Running-man television,
(Black) arts.
Did you invent the term movie star?
(Vanity Smurf tearer),
take a look as reality draws nearer.
Symbiose of the mind's chemical- sea trench monsters.
Rally the sheeples to stampede by your musical serenadings,
box spring snakes coiled
in union of souls call of tune.
Do you court the Druids to "tie a yellow ribbon round the old Oak Tree..."
Such Romanticide, needy.
(Your True : CHORUS)
A falling star hung in the air by insindiary glare
legislating from your bench
like Hephaestus tears
tinkering above a lossless accomodater
puppeting to speak your own truth
while pride sets up another soothsayer booth
Lucy, you got kisses for five cents,
while the world is monopoly
burning your marketplace incense,
falling for the fallen to pay for incoming recompense.
So, Nephilim pretending to be our Creators
is your next one, huh.
Soon, the World will see, your sumptuous gush
of trans-humanity
is just mental masturbation
fantasy
escaping the real thing.
Hoc est corpus*, hocus pocus
Legerdemaine, a shift in focus
Hoc est corpus, from the Mass
Hocus pocus, parody crass
Transubstantiation phrase
Ridicule, to baser plays
Papists, Protestants at odds
Declaring doctrines with regards
To our Lord’s communinion meal
Causing strife, divisions real
Luther replaced trans with con
Zwingli’s bread, alone anon
Calvin said we participate,
Joined to Christ when we partake
Hocus Pocus, thus a slur
“Magical”, what was inferred.
After Christ’s blood, more was shed
Strange remembrance, but ‘nuf said…
----------
*Hoc est corpus meum, Latin for ‘This is my body’
From what I can find, Hocus Pocus was the stage name for a magician who performed around 1640. Somewhere along the way, someone noted a similarity of sound between 'hoc est corpus' and 'hocus pocus', and observed (sarcastically) that the Catholics must believe magic occurred during the reciting of the mass to change the wine and bread into the blood and body of Christ...
I arrived at gadgados
today TD our receptionist
is on leave and i have to multitask
between HR and customer care desk
We did lose the keys to the washrooms
turns out the HR forgot and they ended
accompanying her home.. as we are almost
giving up hope of ever finding them..
The boss arrived and they popped out of her bag..
TD arriving at the office these days he keeps popping
up like hes traveling on the fourth dimension
And mi i do know there is no way those keys could
have ended in Madams handbag for the previous day
i am the one who had custody of them last
But the cybertrack ringing in the air.. ability
give me ability... i bet it must be young bujas
who is up to his usual tricks once more
they say he formed the puma squad with the crown prince
and here at gadgados no one really knows what the silver
sentinels are up to... the pumas are very evasive
today the HR trying to corner me wanted to know why
the crown prince deserted duty at the military academy
i don't know i mussed... no one really does know
Maybe Bujas does.. its rumored left to start the puma squad
private silver sentinels... and they have made gadgados facility
their operating base... what they do no one wants to knows
Later in the evening we lost the front door keys only for them
to mysteriously reappear again an echo of the cyber track.. strength
strength give me strength to overcome for you are strength...
I have to mention Bujas strange companion Roy now prowls this area
and the other day i heard Lemmy roughed up people after i declined....
declined work... like TD and took a leave of absence to do music
for i week i sojourned in music traveling trans dimensional arriving...
at the land of light not very unlike Roy.. but different from Roy i traveled
in the eye of my mind and unlike Bujas i have no need for a time machine
Lewis Nyaga
a day at gadgados
Grace
is not the rather loose reputed love of choice
after natural laws of Earth's justice have been primally satisfied.
Nor is Mercy,
her sister,
a gratuitous co-passionate remainder,
icing on the after thought of justice cake,
after having had Her revengeful way
for sins of our enslaving Fathers.
Rather,
Earth's nature-spirit laws
for protecting nutritional rights and equity
are the evolving justice of last resort
when intrinsic co-empathic trusting grace
has been rejected too often already
within some connecting string of incarnation,
some sacred identity we might and could love
as organically transcendent life itself.
The primary health role of nature's nutritional law,
protection against ecocidal toxins,
security from anthroprivileged injustice,
absence of co-empathic therapeutic trust
as presence of community co-immunity,
is to support effective deep meaningful anticipation,
and not over-reactive wide purposeless anxiety,
toward full development of richly resonant transgenerational relationships,
political and economic musecology.
As a materialistic, yet healthy-social, song and dance species,
we have spent far too much energy
on advocating the triumph of just political relations,
rather than justly cooperative and inclusive economic co-ownership,
rooted in co-empathic gratitude
through listening to and with suffering oppressed fractured species,
stories speaking to our own compassionate voices within,
advocating for future generations of EarthTribe peace.
When our relationship with EarthTribe's Commons
is more about protection from material harm
than loving sustained healthy relationships
rooted in natural-physical
organically inter-religioning
co-infested gratitude for compassion
and outraged attitude against Othering dispassion,
then we are significantly inside and outside the comfort range
of thermodynamic balance,
co-arising trust,
where Grace deteriorates into BadKarma
and restores into GoodKarma
as decomposition informs gratitude's re-incarnate potential
Grace's wealthy step-sister room
for Mercy's further transgenerational
trans generational
transgene rational healthy growth.
Dapper Dorothy pushes the envelope to the edge of the canyon
she should know better
being from a small town in the Midwest
Some of the meaner hicks say
She is trans someone whispers
What is that?
Pan? Tran? Slam? Sham?
Some of the relatives laugh
Not understanding how it feels
to be a little boy born in a girl’s body
To be sad every time he has to go to the girl’s side
Wearing panties when all he wants is boxers
There are no other trans in our town.of three hundred and two
Maybe and probably there have never been.
I look at Dapper Dorothy’s clothes and marvel
Glad he is finally honoring himself with beautiful men’s clothes
IV.
Lia called himself a woman,
though his chromosomes disagreed,
inside he felt he was female,
he made that his identity.
In the second year of high school,
the woke faculty played along,
but Lia would not face the knife,
even if his body felt wrong.
Now Lia was fond of running,
and he went out for track and field,
some of the girls didn’t like this,
but the coaches made them all yield.
At the first race he outpaced them,
breaking the records as he ran,
the teachers all declared him ‘brave,’
but beyond that he won few fans.
Parents showed up at school meetings,
decrying how this was not fair,
a man who’d gone through puberty
simply had no real business there.
Their daughters who had trained so hard
were now cheated, no chance to win,
since a man racing meant it all
was over, why even begin?
What was the point of women’s sports
if it now was open to men?
soon enough guys would rule it all,
like the 1950s again.
Lia was shocked by all this talk,
how dare they rant and misgender?
She went online to call them out,
but most just called him ‘pretender.’
Declared he was an ******* who
couldn’t compete against the guys,
that his ego needed stroking
so he flipped to the other side.
The female runners hated him,
and refused to associate,
rhe male runners thought him a joke,
their mockery stung more than hate.
Lia found out, when all was done,
that nobody really was ‘trans,’
a man cannot be a woman,
a women cannot be a man.