Category Archives: poetry

A New Way To Be #poetrybitchezzz

A New Way To Be

by Tamlyn MacPherson

I have learned, these past few years

a better way to be.

Where once was rage and anger rife,

I try serenity.

My patience, grown and evolved

brings calm into my mind.

When raging hard, my mental storm

made answers hard to find.

Compassion rules, it stays my hand

and I know all life is sacred.

Gays, the disabled… a refugee child…

they suffer ‘coz they’re hated.

A healing touch is just too much

to hope for at this time,

but an open ear, and loving word

is the power that is mine.

And tolerance is the tricky one.

‘Do you tolerate the intolerence?’ they say.

I say ‘look mate, when it comes to hate,

we can’t let them get away’.

Because people die when hatred thrives,

and to sit by and do nothing,

is a cowardly act and stark betrayal

of all who need saving.

So I will stand as best I can,

and take their shots and stones,

in defence of those who have no voice;

afraid, oppressed, alone.

So whatever your faith, or if you have none

the most important thing to be,

is so fucktastically Christ-like,

the cunts’ll want to nail you to a tree.


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Make Me New

by Tamlyn Ailsa MacPherson

Take my deformity, throw down the clay.

Push me and pinch me, and mould me this way.

Take what was unsightly and cast away;

Turn white to black and night to day.

For I am the living, I am the dead.

I am the spider and the fly.

I am the block and, upon it, the head.

I am the killer and I die.

Cut me up, a traitor’s fate;

so the poison will drain from me.

Guide me here from traitor’s gate

and may your blade fall sharply.

Look upon me this last day,

then banish me from sight.

I am the dawn that finds its way

and chases clear the night.

I am sorrow, and yet joy;

I am pain and I am pleasure.

I am ornament, I am toy,

I am burden, I am treasure.

I am devout and I am heathen,

I will shout and you shall listen.

Potter, throw me upon your wheel

and pinch and push me ’til I’m real.

Cut and shape my fragile frame

then bake me strong with searing flame.

From the little slimy lump you threw,

you make me real;

You make me new.


Filed under Gender transition, poetry, Trans, trans issues, Transgender, transition, Transsexual, Uncategorized

‘The 12 Days of Tindmas’ by Tamlyn Ailsa MacPherson

On the twelfth day of Christmas, a stranger gifted me;

Twelve crabs a-bitin’,

eleven lice a-crawlin’.

ten rectal fissures,

nine swollen lymph nodes,

eight smelly fingers,

seven ruined bed sheets,

six inserted objects,


Four hairy warts

three deep scars,

two broken teeth,

and a long wait in casualty

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