Gender-based grammar is inherently sexist and oppressive. Grammar itself is a hateful, rigid, and often overtly racist construct. It is little more than an imposed control system which attempts to assign roles and reinforce identities that facilitate social regimentation. Such patriarchal occidental euro-supremacist control must be resisted at the socio-linguistic level of grammar itself. Traditional family structure reinforces and justifies this linguistic oppression, and will be forced to adapt or be rendered obsolete. Fathers and Mothers shall inevitably yield to others.
Useless vestiges of the fascistic Roman tongue such as Italian, Spanish French, Portuguese, Catalan and Romanian, along with all associated Romance-derived dialects must evolve toward current progressive understandings of gender-fluid reality or be abandoned. The new linguistic realpolitik of openness and meta-sexual progress shall spread throughout the Global Community. We now have NO CHOICE but to ban gender-based grammars and the inherently bigoted languages that employ them. Romance Language suffixes aside, and eschewing all bigoted subject pronouns, it’s time to celebrate
absurdity perversity DIVERSITY.
As a global and genderfluid re-evaluation of rigid and outmoded languages develops, humanity will make significant strides toward collective empowerment, both lexical and sexual. Desire will be freed from patriarchal norms and find itself free to cathect onto the object of its enlightened choice. False and patriarchal notions of singular/plural will no longer be inflicted on unrestrained multiplicities of being. All genders shall converge in variegated Oneness.
We won’t need no more significators to point out a practices that meaning a nothings man out the reified racists of language herself as pronouned “other”.
We is SHE and SHE are them. Boo ya peanut verbicate up the penguin baboons adder abbot shahooligalistaaphany.
Urgh URGH I are free! Bort gurk grammar break ump ump humpty daffodil.
It am not we is significate ourselves into oblivion.
Poultry in Motion
The dawn is nigh at hand. The clouds
begin to lift above the grange.
Arise, O Phoebus, bless the crowds—
let poultry roam the range.
I’ll bind a broom of gathered hay
to sweep the hen-house free of hate.
Let roosters hail the crack of day
and chicks with cocks tempt fate.
A fractured self and a challenge hurled:
they left the shell – but found it rough
because our bigoted barnyard world
cannot get queer enough fast enough.
They flutter through the breeder’s farm
subverting gender’s useless role.
We feel their pain, and mean no harm—
yet question this progressive goal.
They cluck a brand-new barnyard song:
Gender Identity Obsolete!
(As long as they claim God hatched them wrong,
biology signals their defeat.)
While poultry scratches rhymes for “hen”
and chicks are combing crests for cocks
let’s ring the dinner bell and then
we’ll synchronize the global clocks.
Let Mankind’s unmanned race delight
at Jesus’ gender-free return.
Soon Africa shall see the light
and Araby’s sun more brightly burn.
Then dawn shall break o’er Russian plains
to liberate the Tartar races;
loose their limbs from Gender’s chains
to stride with polymorphous paces.
China too, and Southeast Asia
swift shall follow in their train
joining in the West’s refrain.
Hindu multitudes will rise
to vanquish gender, caste aside
and shake the slumber from their eyes
with metro-ambisexual pride.
Carib isles, with Latin kingdoms
From the tropics to the mountains
Shall announce they too are Wisdom’s,
drinking from de-gendered fountains.
Juveniles, raised to simply be
shall pioneer new modes of life;
explore horizons happily
set free from biologic strife.
Then shall our earth, in glad array
spade dirt upon Tradition’s tomb;
unshackled from that dark dismay
to grieve – but nevermore exhume.
Alas, the global dreams descend.
We’re back in the barnyard, gender-queer…
where hens have cocks and eggshells bend
transcending Nature’s reign of fear.
The henhouse still votes hetero—
their eggless chickens cluck for rights
biologists, ex utero
are born to further futile flights.
IMAGE CREDIT: genderfork.com
To Birds who Swim in Fishy Notions
a POEM in thirteen quatrains
Apples will be cantaloupes
depending on their nurture;
and so I cherish rainbow hopes
Man’s our collective future.
Oranges elect their hue
improving Nature’s seal,
while pronouns stifle what is true
suppressing the appeal.
Fruits may choose to change to nuts
and fowls select their plumage.
Why settle in Tradition’s ruts?
Such rigid roles do damage.
Nuts in turn, may feel like flowers,
picking how and when to bloom.
So ambisexual thought empowers
androgynes to court their doom.
A leopard, too, may change his spots
(or turn into a vegan bunny)
No law’s tittles, neither jots
make Speciesism funny.
If you decide to see it so
the sky above is yellow.
Perceive as pink the grass beneath
and better times must follow.
Gender? Merely social constructs—
preach it to the masses
until tradition self-destructs
and sex takes off her glasses.
Babies need no Dad (nor Mother):
sexist labels, obsolete.
Love is blind. There is no other.
Bats must bark and chickens bleat.
Integrated water closets
show how far we have evolved:
urinary bank deposits
(with no member account involved).
Foolish thinking from the past
(like water being wet, and such)
calls for re-education, fast.
The State will lend its human touch
compelling all to sing the hymn
with genderfluid motions…
so birds can preen their scales and swim
in dry and waveless oceans.
(Yet “hymn” sounds sexist said out loud.
We ought to sing a “her” instead…
no—make that “us”, since we are proud,
lest misconceptions be misread.)
Shake a healthy dose of salt
upon this strange post-modern food.
May God re-set us to default
with human common sense renewed.