Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Opa's Candy (February 28, 2017)

He greeted us
With a toothless grin
And a twinkle
His eyes.

Offering forth
A small white 
Paper bag
To us.

His grandchildren.

The older grandchildren
Knew better.

To say
"No thanks"
To his offer.

That white package
Was coarsely cut
Chewing tobacco.

I have forgotten
It's taste.

Still remember
The look
On my cousins' face
Of surprise
And disgust.

As they took
A shred or two
Into their mouth
And chewed.

A sad sigh
Escapes me.

As I realize
It has been 33 years
He last drew
A breath.

Passing away
On my birthday
February 2, 1984.

The long stale bag
Of coarse cut chewing tobacco
From my high boy dresser.

Tossing it
Into the garbage.

Bringing closure
To that part
Of my life.

Therisa © 2017

Author's Note: My 2800th written poem. My Opa like to tease us, the grandchildren, with his chewing tobacco, a ritual game that he played, whenever we would visit him and Oma, at their place. Never once, I did ever see him, spit out the tobacco, in the presence of us, grandchildren, which he bought, at the local co-op store, in Dunneville, Ontario.

Monday, 27 February 2017

Transphobia (February 27, 2017)

I stand
Before you
At the crossroads
Of our friendship.

How you'll react
To my true self.

Past attempts
At being open
Like this.

Have spiraled downwards
Into a dark 
And suicidal depression
At being rejected.

Of your strong
Conservative religious

That place
Lesbian relationships
As a mortal sin
To my soul.

Never mind
My crossing
Of the gender divide
As well.

You could
So easily hurt me
With your anger.

Both emotionally
And physically.

And yet
To let my fears
Control my life
Like some drone
On autopilot.

Been there
Done that
Got the t-shirt
To prove it.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Wish I could say, that I had a positive experience, in opening up and sharing myself,
but this person's beliefs proved to be too strong, to overcome their religious fears, about me.
As they grew more distanced from me, over time, until I broke off, our friendship.

Saturday, 25 February 2017

My Salvation (February 25, 2017)

Hard to believe
A decade will have pass
This August.

My last interaction
With my younger brother
In telling him:

"You're dead
To me.

"Next time
I see you
You'll be 6 feet under."

Rebuilding my life
Piecing together
The various fragments
Of a complex jigsaw puzzle.

No two pieces
Are cut
With the same die.

Having learnt
The harsh lesson
Of not forcing things
To fit.

I wanted them

As a panic attack
Gripped my soul
In it's tightening grasp
With little chance
Of letting go
Anytime soon.

About my abusive past
In a series of monologues
On my transitional journey.

Needing to prove
To myself
My dark memories
Don't control me.

I do.

In seeking
Their release
In the written word
That I can't speak
To others.

It may be
At that moment
In time.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Isn't it ironic, my multiple learning disabilities, which made writing anything near impossible, as I struggled, in school and university. Now, shape my healing process, and my ability to write poetry, in expressing myself, to others. As if, a key has been fitted, into a locked door, opening it, to a new me, I never knew existed, 10 years ago, when I wrote my first poem, on March 30, 2007, since leaving high school, in June 1990.

'Em Fighting Words (February 25, 2017)

"We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender." 

Winston Churchill (June 4, 1940, speech to Parliament, in London, England)

The war has started
With your firing
The opening salvos
In the North Caroline Legislature
By passing ignorant based
HB2 legislation.

And now

The revoking
Of President Obama's
Presidential decree
Allowing a trans-person
To use the washroom
Of their chosen gender.

Never thought
I would be saying
Or writing
These words:

"Thank you
President Trump."

For your words
And actions
Have united.

A diverse 
And fractured community
As one.

Against you.

As we girth up
For the coming battles
Once more
"Manning" the front line.

Like we did
At the Compton's Cafeteria riots
In San Francisco (August 1966).

The Stonewall Riots
That started
On June 28, 1968.

This time
We will be remembered
By history
For our actions.

In refusing
The Gay and Lesbian communities
To speak for us
Like before.

The civil and human rights
Of all.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: The following is, an example of the growing anger, against President Trump., within the trans-community: https://ca.yahoo.com/news/caitlyn-jenner-calls-trump-transgender-082615889.html

Thursday, 23 February 2017

Being Invisible (February 23, 2017)

Not sure
Why I'm feeling
Like  this

I am.

Like someone
Had draped
A veil
Over me.

Through life
Like a silent ghost.

Never really seen
By anybody.

As if
My life 
Doesn't matter.

The space
I'm taking up
At the moment.

Is this
My depression speaking
To release me?

Soft sigh
Escapes me
As I ponder
This question.

My answer is
I wouldn't like it.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: How I am feeling, right now.

Tuesday, 14 February 2017

Standing Tall (February 14, 2017)

I stand 
Before you
Across the great divide.

In blood and tears
From your anger.

A symbol
Of tolerance
And hope.

That your verbal
And physical assaults
Couldn't silence
Or kill.

My chronic depression
Anxiety/panic attacks
And PTSD flashbacks
Are painful badges
I wear.

Like my heart
Upon the sleeve
Bearing witness
To all.

A silent symbol
Of non-violent resistance
To your ignorance
And oppression.

In the world
That growing darker
With each passing day.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: My resistance to President Trump's world view.

Monday, 13 February 2017

Tainted Love (February 13, 2017)


The one word
Most people dread
Like the plague.

And yet
Our daily life
Around this.

A fact
That I learnt
The hard way.

"Outing" myself
To my mom.

On a holiday 
Long weekend
Surprise visit.

As if
My exploration
Of gender
And sexuality. 

Is a face slap 
To her raising me
As a child.

Never mind
For more years
Than I care
To remember.

I lived my life
Her way.

Filled with
Chronic depression
And multiple suicide

Courting Death
At any cost
To ease
My soul deep pain.

Upon her rejection
Of me
As her trans-lesbian

As I ran away
My eyed filled
With bitter tears
To Toronto.

After losing 
My apartment
In Brampton.

(A commuting suburb
Of Toronto).

To move in
With her
Would be signing
My death certificate.

Where her words
A lie?

To justify
Her abusive
Manipulative behaviour.

When she says
I love you

My birth name.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Had thought, of using the video for Soft Cell's Tainted Love, or looking for The Supreme's Where Did Our Love GO?, but realized, both songs deal with love and relationships, from a CIS point of view, for the straight and gay communities.

My mom has trouble, writing out or saying my name, Therisa, as if, it was a toxic poison. Often, in cards or conversations, she will behave, like I have never shared with her, my need to live my life, as a woman.

Saturday, 11 February 2017

Clean Your Plate, There's.... (February 11, 2017)


A four letter
Curse word
In my daily lexicon.

Necessary evil
Rather avoid
But can't.

For my daily cocktail
I must take.

To ensure
My long term health.

And physically.

As I struggle
With various issues
In my life.

That shaped me
In whom
I am.

I see myself
As an ugly bloated
Beached whale.

On two legs.

A fact
Have struggled with
For most
Of my life.

My ideal weight
People express concern
About my appearance
Being anorexic.

Like my constant battle
With depression.

I cycle
Between binging
And starving.

As if
I'm punishing

I started
At the age
Of 9.

Even now
In my starving periods
Eat just enough
For my meds
And nothing more.

Please understand
My shelves are full
With various healthy

Just don't feel

Forcing myself
To eat something
For the meds.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Over the past 2 years, have talked with my medical team, about this, as it impacts, on my diabetes and other parts, of my overall health. 

Sunday, 5 February 2017

Apocalypse 2030 (February 5, 2017)

I'm scared."

"Hush baby
I'm here

Do you think
We'll disappear
Like Jenn
And her family did?"

I don't know."

Someone is breaking
Our windows."

"Come here
We must move
To our hiding spot

  *  *  *

Corporal A
And your squad
Take the front.

Corporal B
And your men
Take the back.

   *  *  *

"Kevin Jonathan Rhys
Camilla Rhys.

You've been convicted
Of violating
The "Tranny" law
Of 2027.

You and any companions
Are sentenced
To death.

   *  *  *

Two subjects
Been neutralized."

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: An experiment of using just dialogue, to write this dark dyspotian poem, about a possible future US, where being transgender is, a capital crime, punished by death, for offending person, and those, around them. A future, which I hope, never occurs.

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

Faith: The Dark Side (February 1, 2017)

People view you
As the guiding light
In the dark tunnel
Of life.

And yet
Use your name
In vain.

Their actions 
Of hate.

They may be.

In which
And dogmatic behaviour
Is praised
To the highest order.

As millions
Are slaughtered.

A second thought
Or any display
Of remorse.

By those
Who are considered
By many people.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Throughout history, there are cases, which rational people have placed their faith and lives, in the hand of unstable leaders, like Jim Jones, and Adolph Hitler. Could Donald Trump, be one of these leaders, as President of the United States, given his recent actions, against Muslims, from politically unstable countries, with a large majority of the population, from entry, into the United States.

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