The Danger of Transgender People

Why Transgender People are Dangerous

 

Never mind the roller coaster ride,

            you’re on it now, 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 simple fall

God damn gravity that evil threat

            Gonna getcha right soon, gonna getcha you bet
Not too sure why I stand at all
            If I’m gonna get killed by a natural law

“Hells bells”, say I to the kids and wife,

            “I’m takin’ to bed for the rest of my life!”

 
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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!

 

 

 

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.

What is There?

What is there in the end but forgiveness
And forgiving one’s self.
What is regret when we cannot go back
To change anything done?
We only move forward
To more change, the slow breakdown
Of the body, aging and death,
There is that, of course, but
The quicker one can do it the better:
Live so the need to forgive is less and less.
It is a gift we give, and when we can, is priceless.

 

tumblr_opi6ecpEKH1qde5xzo1_500Rayn Roberts 2017

Reminiscence

Fishing at the river, some boys jump in
Swim across and back so quickly
It makes my head spin.
Were I as trim and lean as them
I’d join in–
I did when I was that age
Set down my rod
Shed my clothes
Took to any lake or stream
Swam my sweaty body clean
Lay on the bank and dreamed of love—
But I am old now, these days
I need prodding
Just to take a bath!
A boy needs no prod, only doing
Without hesitation or regret
Sagacious are the old men, but wisdom
Does not come
Unless the joys of youth are done
And as the mind goes under, we learn to swim again.