message to anti trans hate speakers

[ElliePhantW33]

I know it's hard to tell how mixed up you feel
Hoping what you need is behind every door
Each time you get hurt, I don't want you to change
Because everyone has hopes, you're human after all
The feeling sometimes, wishing you were someone else
Feeling as though you never belong
This feeling is not sadness, this feeling is not joy
I truly understand. Please, don't cry now

Please don't go, I want you to stay
I'm begging you please, please don't leave here
I don't want you to hate
For all the hurt that you feel
The world is just illusion, trying to change you

They obliterate each other in a small cloud of logic...

Tsk tsk. In that case, I'd better get my laundry in.

Happy midsummer solstice everyone.

Surely if we're doing trans related poetry -

And at the wyndow out she putte hir hole,
And Absolon, hym fil no bet ne wers,
But with his mouth hekistehir nakeders
Ful savorly,erhe werewarof this.
Abak he stirte, and thoughte it was amys,
For wel hewistea womman hath no berd.
He felte a thyng al rough andlong yherd,
And seyde, "Fy! allas! what have I do?"
"Tehee!"quodshe, and clapte the wyndow to,

Fucking DIAFChaucer. T**F

Applauds CertainHalfDesertedStreets!

enry98l
1 year ago
Old Mister Johnson had troubles of his own
He had a yellow cat that wouldn't leave its home;
He tried and he tried to give the cat away,
He gave it to a man goin' far, far away.
But the cat came back the very next day,
The cat came back, we thought he was a goner
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.
Away, away, yea, yea, yea

It has to the fred penner version.

Battleax

What fresh hell is this?

A Vogon/TRA alliance?

Just choked on smoothie reading this.

There's an episode of Buffy where zombies rise. It includes a dead animal that buffy's mum had buried and I ALWAYS get the cat came back stuck in my head at that point.

As you were.

@TransplantsarePlants:

So glad the night sweats woke me up for this thread

I see what you did there ...

Popchyk

Certainhalf
Methinks my poetry I wrote in the days of yore appears to be in the style of Chaucer. Autocorrect just makes it even more obscure better.
Who knew?

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of woman,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
Your feelings.

One must be so careful these days.

Maybe OP just needs help with punctuation and we should put CharlieParley on the case.

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me....

I'm anti trans fats. Cis fats are much more natural and healthy.

I wonder if the suggestions on iPads can be used as a vogonish poetry generator?

All mimsy were the borogroves, and the momewraths outgrabe.

Here's my starter iPad line

The only women who are women

"If you want to know who we are" (Chorus of Men)

I'm just a sweet transvestite
From Transexual, Transylvania

In just seven days (Oh, baby)
I can make you a man

The time has come the walrus said
To talk of many things

Of shoes, pouty lips and leg wax,
Of handbags and wigs,
Why the populace fear us so,
Why we don't get women's gigs.

“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.” “The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.” “The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master—that's all.”

Shouldn't the last line of that be 'yet we still get women's gigs?'

ErrolTheDragon Yes, I did think that once I'd hit post. My bad I think.

I think we really should talk about the great poet, Vincent Damon Furnier on this thread.