UK Trans Blues

[CW: Transphobia, suicide mention]

Wake up, butter toast, go shower
Check phone, read your notifications
Get reminded of the bounty on your trans ass
Swallow bile, shake off the fear
Knowing the demise of your people’s being planned
By bored white soccer mums after the book club meet
Trying to slide in behind the scenes
Unsheathe concern culture while backs are turned
*Vrrt Vrrt* Check notifications
Looks like they’ve poisoned political parties too

They wanna keep you battered and obedient
To keep you considering going back on commin’ out
Leaves me in front of the mirror shouting “Marco”
To no reply like you’ve been visited by Nosferatu
Gotta drive a steak in my ears and stop listening
Cos living wrong’ll lead to the noose
And they’ll turn a blind eye while you choke
“Oh that’s awful” they say from the VIP seats
Meanwhile they lobby behind the scenes
Praying to god to get the suicide rates higher

Trying to preach to the world about womanhood
They go “Mmmphf Mmmrr Mrrph”
Ah sorry, hard to understand what your saying
With all that Nazi cock in your mouth
Daddy slaps his trunk on your cheeks
Before handing over your pocket money
“Good girl” he sends you on your way
Suddenly propaganda appears in the ladies toilet
Suddenly the Kickstarers get funded
But I’m sure it’s just a coincidence

I’d love to dismiss ya without a seconds notice
The last kicks of life of a hate group on it’s way out
Occupy the same space in the history books
As the British nationalists and psychos
But this shit’s contagious, inspires insipid minds
Like those looking to clean the gene pool
Down at the local swimming pool
Two women blocking a 6 year old from changing rooms
All cos they can’t stop thinking about little kids fucking
But instead of being put on a register
They get put on a slot on daytime TV
Jammie Dodges and a cup of tea in the green room
Schofeild checks in to see if you need a refill
First class treatment for the type that’d put a bullet in a kid’s skull
Bet they’d spread their legs and piss on the corpse while they’re at it

Might I suggest your feminism stinks?
When you fight to keep a patriarchy intact
As you hold the door open for all your friends:
Eugenics Nazis and anti-abortion evangelicals
As they try and keep the men superior
Keep ‘em an Aryan squeaky clean
Trying to keep women inferior
Defined solely by their oppression
What for? Cos you know once the binaries broken
That you’ve dedicated your entire life to a fight
The white woman’s fight, losing the spotlight
That you’ve defined your entire identity
Based solely on the hole you piss out of
What’s a few trans lives to keep the delusion alive?
That’s why you let him slap your jaw with his bellend
Maybe Parker and Davies can join in a double team?
They do the boober and balls, while you take the rimjob
Anything to keep the worst men happy and in charge

Happy #NationalPoetryDay
I’ve snapped

Sebastian Noël

Even during the times you can’t tell
When stimming looks like a quirk
When spacing out resembles eye contact
When Echolalia becomes so refined
It’s indistinguishable from dialogue
And the end of the day: Nothing’s changed

Sebastian Noël

Birthday Poem (for Luke)

I can calculate how long you’ve been here,
in a multitude of ways. It comes out to:
22 years which is 264 months
which is 1144 weeks
which is 8,030 days
which is 192720 hours
which is 693,792,000 seconds.
But maths doesn’t do justice to the impact you’ve made.

The ink you’ve spilled, the words you’ve jotted,
the games you played, the music you gushed over,
the people you’ve loved and hated and been ambivalent towards,
the way your hair grows and curls, the tiny bit of green in your eyes,
your olive skin, big feet, long legs, creased hands and beating heart.
That’s what time is made of.

We’ve only known each other 3 months which,
in maths blind eyes, comes to: 13 weeks
which is 91 days
which is 2191 hours
which is 131,487 minutes
which is 7,884,000 seconds.
But it feels like infinity because what does time know?

The chats we’ve had, the words we’ve performed,
the strides we’ve made, the kisses we’ve shared,
the times we’ve loved and hated the sight of each other,
the way we lay and breathe and think together,
and a thousand other little moments that can’t be measured.
That’s what time is made of.

I can fit the time we’ve spent together into your life
88 times and into mine 72 times.
Maths has never been my strong point
so I’d rather stick to fitting you into my life
rather than puzzling trying to count on my fingers
until I’m all thumbs. We fit together like time flows
and we’ll ride the flow of time until we’ve exhausted
everything; we’ll pack provisions, a life raft and all
our previous experience so we can battle the tide.

I can calculate how long you’ve been here,
in a multitude of ways, but – in the most cliched way –
when it comes to calculating my love and appreciation
that’s mathematics no woman could ever do.

-Francesniff

Just A Man

They knew you as broke-ass Baxter, from the shadows of the estate
The classic story of a candy wrapper tainting a cherry blossom garden
With your beat-up leathers and monochromed dyed trainers
And with one rouge blonde curl that no force was able to keep down
The way you teeter your cigarette left and right when the gears turn
And the little cracks in your laugh when something was especially hysterical
I always noticed them all, from the corner of the snooker hall
So when your eyes wondered trying to track down an ignition for your fag
I jumped at the chance, just for an excuse to give you my name
I can’t get enough of the way you sway in the queue
Who knows what ideas your plotting in that little mind of yours
Miles and miles away before the line starts to move
And maybe, you can take me their one day?

I snuck out by the bathroom window, on a waxing crescent moon
I met you outside the snooker club but there wasn’t much to do
So you led me through the wire traps and we end up at the coast
I perch on seaside debris, clutching the last tin you gave to me
And you begin tell tales of old sweethearts and rebellious youth
The content may of felt short, but god it’s just you just tell it so well
I push the fat of my cheeks up and make sure every inch of you is in my gaze
I couldn’t give a fuck about what your chatting, it’s just the way you tell it hon’
And maybe, I wanna listen to you everyday

My dear all your fallacies are false, can’t you see I’m just a man?
But can’t you see, your so much more then a man to me?
Well lets see if you share that opinion later on still
When you peer at me through the cracks of the door
And you catch me in the midst of an ‘um’ or an ‘err’
It doesn’t matter how much you take my fables
And stitch together An-Frankenstein’s Garfield
It’s all just a character to get excited about
Another one to exaggerate about in prose on lonely nights

How much of me do you wanna see?
I wanna see straight through you
And everything that makes you
Are you prepared to wince and sigh?
Are you prepared to not be amazed by something that makes me?
But you got me to come this far
I want to discover everything you could be
I just hope you feel the same thing for me

As preformed by Domestic

– Lnc0