A poem: Reads Tgirl Picnic “Abandon Hope all ye who enter here” - Dante Alighieri “I know more than you!” - Nick-Offerman.meme Quisling Canvassers, trawlers o’public parks Would’s that you perceive your warnings old and new they’re for your benefit I know “it’s pride” I know your hierophant is “one of the good ones” I know you assume our “suffrage” I know you think you’re “helping” I know you You saw happy girls, enjoying a picnic in the park You saw trans girls you could influence, to toolify “for their own good” You saw, an easy target The warnings were for you Heed them, or not, at your own peril no, they may not all know more than you, but I do there is always one, at least one we take rotations, there’s always one of us on call the extra-political trans girl the one who will question your hierophant demand the illusive HOW behind pretty words the one who will demand: explain what they’ll do about our genocide? the Palestinian genocide? ICE’s concentration camps? the federal agents kidnapping, torturing, raping our friends, our family, our neighbors? I know you saw happy girls enjoying a picnic in the park It was our moment of joy slight against torments and terrors the ones you ignore or know nothing of or deny exist The Warnings Were For Thee Abandon Hope All ye who canvas here Heed The Warnings bring not the terrors your collaborator lord into our fragment of bliss I will flense the flesh from your frame I will use your guts for my garters I will sew a dress of your sinew I will use your grey matter for grout I will make broth from your bones and stew of your sweet breads purely metaphorically you understand At the bottom are social media links to phenn.gay on bluesky and phennoflore on twitch and youtube
Posted inPoetry

Today Deserves an Angry Tranny Poem

On this, the last day of pride.The day the highest court in the land declared, in the same breath used to name the constitution itself "unconstitutional, that trans women are not equal under the eyes of the law.
A poem Cracks in the Sky it's snowing I can just make out skeletal hands, stretching away from naked bodies a patina of dark cracks cascading across the grays and whites of the sky so uniform in it's banal chaos until I grab my glasses bare branches, swaddled in clean, soft, new snow, reach outward and upward divested their autumnal finery, yet still holding the promise of new life, maybe In a new year they're too separate from the unyielding grey to be the cracks in the facade I saw moments before the sky didn't change same grey white uniformity, encompassing my world threatening in unequal measures, danger, beauty, and futility the clarity isn't bad there is honest joy to the dance of flakes, falling from their grey white prison, movement, energy, individuality for a time all too soon they will rest among their fallen sisters I like to imagine it's a comforting rest, well deserved, well earned it's always there the fear that each flake is allowed to dance, to celebrate her freedom for but a short while, before she joins her sisters in the suffocating blanket across the land She may find joy in her fall, but her landing, her corpse, those of her uncounted sisters, all subsumed by the collective 'snow' a grey white downy jacket of corpses, all so the ground might resemble their once prison. I miss the cracks in the sky Bluesky Logo Phenn.gay Twitch and YouTube logos PhennofLore
Posted inBlog Poetry

Cracks in the Sky

Last year, I spent the holidays trying to connect with my partners. We'd been having issues since a kink scene in June where, while pretty deep in pup space, I was rather suddenly rejected and abandoned.
Posted inPoetry Pride Poetry Project

Breaking or Broken?

There we go, made it to the final of the three poems I wrote together. To Be… What? and Joy certainly had a different vibe. Apparently that’s what happens when I’m inexplicably inspired to write weird number sequence poetry while watching my girlfriend/mate/handler and her friend play DDR.

Posted inPoetry Pride Poetry Project

Un-done Un-ity

I did say I was interrogating some heavy shit and especially dog/puppygirl idiosyncrasies. I don’t want to talk too much about this one, as I fear speaking to my intent or perspective would read as prescriptive. So I leave you to contemplate.

Posted inPoetry Pride Poetry Project

Of Sweetest Succor

Yes, I saved the extremely lesbian poem as my opener for the final day of my silly Pride poetry project. A lot of my other final day poems are going to be heavy, complex, or are directly interrogating some of my own, seemingly universal, dog girl idiosyncrasies.

Just a Fib
Posted inPoetry Pride Poetry Project

Just a Fib

I’ll be honest, this one was an attempt to be cute, but ended up with something kind of heavy. I really shouldn’t be able to make something this harsh when my seed word was “fib” but I ended up sort of fixating on the banal ways the lies of those with power are framed.

Posted inPoetry Pride Poetry Project

Anxiety

Fuck. I’m not really ready to talk about this one, but I should anyway.

I said in the To Be…What?’s write up that I wrote it, Joy, and one of tomorrow’s poems simultaneously and that they were the first three I wrote intentionally using the number sequence I built this little project around, but they weren’t the first poems written. That dubious honor goes to Anxiety here.