About The Dangers of Transgender People….

 

Why Transgender People are Dangerous

 

Nevermind the roller coaster ride
you’re on it now you can’t get off

It’s gravity’s got
a terrible side
got nothing to do
with God at all

God doesn’t really
give a toss

if you die next week from a stupid fall

God damn gravity
that evil threat

Gonna getcha right soon
gonna getcha  yet
Not too sure
why I stand at all
If I’m gonna get killed

by a natural law

“Hells bells, tarnation”, say I to my wife
“I’m takin’ to bed for the rest of my life!”

*****************************************************************************

I’m not white, not black, not brown or yellow
not rich or old, poor or dumb
but I do see things in a different way because

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Understanding the Transgender Community

A Dangerous Threat? Who is?

What is really Wrong: Violence Against & Murder of Transgender People.

Why Do We Need Science to Approve of Anyone Being Transgender?

The Problem Some Christians Have with Transgender People

Think Transgender People Themselves are in Danger? Well, yeah!

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What the Cicadas Are Saying

There’s a method in the music, the buzz
Filling the trees, a sizzle, a scream
The clicking and the ringing of cicadas.

Where some leave off, others pick up
The cantos of love, a hum like a dream
That is all of summer and seventeen years:

“Here, here, I’m the one, I’m the best,
Here, here, I’m the one, forget the rest!”
It’s an old serenade, it does not let up,

It defends, drives off birds that come
To make an easy meal of them, it assails
Fox, wasp, raccoon, boy with butterfly net–

In the end, all the songs whirl into oblivion.
Their bodies wash into rain-gutter and trail
Dried up, cried-out shells of what they were.

Other singers rise in a coffee shop in town
Worn thin by years of blinding night labor
Soul-broken, lost, jubilant, newly in love

Sick of love, but madly in love with sound
Looking to bend an ear, the poets file in.
Autumn and an open mic are about to begin.

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Note: Depending on the species, cicadas live underground for 17 or 21 years. They emerge for one summer to mate. Males sing, females do not.
They listen & select the loudest singers.
This poem is a slight re-vision of the first in Jazz Cocktails & Soapbox Songs.