Finding My Feet

Transgender Poems

I’m a strange combination between shallow and deep

and the paradox created simply serves to defeat

My inner sense of myself and my idea of me

And the person I’m not and the one I should be

I’m not complaining or moaning I’m just stating a fact

that I’m not sure exactly how this person should act

And who she should be coz I’m finding my feet

And I’m scared I’ll not be the best girl I can be

Because in life I’ve been told that I’m not a good soul

That theres someone inside whos so hard to control

And to let them out of their cage simply scares me to death

I don’t know who they are, or what they can do yet

And I know this is weird and I can’t explain it away

In these words that I write in the things that I say

I’m just trying to get there, where that is I don’t know

I’m not even sure of which way I should go

But I’m trying and surely you can see that of me

That I’m on the path to who I’m meant to be

I want to be good and I want a good soul

and I want to be able to know where to go

But I don’t and that scares me and I think it does for you too

Because what if the person I am doesn’t need you

And my life has been made up of people I love

And the help that I give them like I was sent from above

And the mistakes I made and the stupid things that I’ve done

Weren’t done in malice or evil they were human and dumb

And I know that but still my mind hates me to know

That deep down I’m a good person whos path wasn’t shown

And its no excuse for the bad things, the worst and the rest

But I just want to forgive me for those things I detest

And we need to learn to love ourselves inside and out

Because we’re stuck with ourself and I just wanna shout

Why the fuck are you so hard on the person you were

On the person whos shoulders you rode till they hurt

And now here you are, reborn and begun

In the life you were meant to have, your time in the sun

But you beat yourself up like you’re Lecter or Hitler

And I can’t find the words to describe the reflection

Of the body that wasn’t ever meant to be mine

But I struggle onwards and upwards and I try to be kind

Though its hard when all of these things come combined

But you don’t get it I know, unless you’d walked a mile in my shoes


And if you’d done that then you’d probably hate yourself too.

Healing vs Transition






the transition and readjustments you face today,

are but remains of what could have been yesterday,

when you fall into the pit of self-loathing and pity,

that is something different, and a whole different 'city'.


insight into self is the key to it all,

admissions of truths denied are the constant fall,

for people who are bombarded by the hunger from others,

those 'others' lack in themselves what they think they see in another.


sometimes it's something of personal nature,

and it is the bearer of that truth to decide to share,

poking and prodding a wound that is healed,

only adds to your own misery in the end... of what you feel.


11:27 AM 7/15/2013 ©



Author's Notes/Comments: 

on the difference between healing and becoming completely transparent. two very very different things. we are more transparent with some people than others, no matter if we are healed or not. it is a personal right, and a personal choice. transparency is not about healing, although it can be manipulated into looking as if it is done in police work, to place a blinder over the eyes of a person in order to retrieve information for something of their own importance. this a bigger subject than most could even fathom in these times, as well as aspects of it being used for coersion and mental torture. we all trust at our own pace, with whom we choose, in our own time, and no one else's. and then there are those that just for some reason, enjoy hearing lies and expanding on them. it becomes a joint effort in the 'argumentum ad ignorantium'.




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The Call

I call in the muses & the music

I call in the magic, its form in its purest

I call in the Angels & the Saints

I call out to Heavens' Pearly Gates


I hear you calling from far away

Sending me dreams thought forgotten, of yesterday

I call in the joy, I remember the pain

And suddenly I would give anything, to relive it again.

Woe begotten, still forgotten,

these precious dreams of yesterday

I feel you calling, a tug on my skin

I look in the mirror and see something within

A sparkle, a light, that gives a quick fright

Then sudden and spoken, the spell still unbroken

I see you within, calling my name.

You smile and you grin, you're always the same.


"Look UP

Look Over

Change Your Point of V




So thinking a thought, I hadn't thought before,

I felt a rush & a wind, and it opened a door.

A door filled with light, hope, sound and song

I knew in my heart, this was the place I belonged.


This was my moment, my final test.

I closed my eyes tight and took a deep breath.

Thinking my thought, I had never thought before

I held it before me, as I walked through the door.

Here I am now, in this place of calm and of light,

Wondering why it took so long, to finally get it right.


Throwing worry aside, and bitterness to the winds,

Fate guides my hand now,

                                    as new life



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Well, it's been really hard trying to get out anything that makes any sense! lol, so in the end I had to try and concentrate on one feeling, and this is what came out :) It was kind of fun though... i kept hearing it like a song in my head, and it was a little distracting, lol. Thank you everyone, for all your wonderful love and support!!

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by Jeph Johnson 


one day I decided

I was going to

surprise her

with flowers 


so naturally

I asked:

"What kind

of flowers

do you like?" 


she replied:

"the kind

that don't die" 


so now I knew what kind, 

but the surprise was ruined 


the next time I saw her

she gave me

a China Doll plant

with green leaves

and no flowers 


together we set it

by my window 


"it doesn't need much water,

once a week, tops. 


oh, don't do that...

you're going to drown it! 

I already watered it today,

you won't need to


at least

next Friday. 


oh, don't do that...

once a week, tops" 


over time

it began to stretch

and yawn like her cat

while searching

for elusive drops of sunlight

that we figured someday

might come out

and make it thirsty 


then she left. 

citing my immaturity


"oh, don't do that..." 


...and it became

my job to care for it 

so I watered it some more 


"you're going to drown it!" 


I mean

what else am I to do

with a plant-

talk to it? 


inspired by my new maturation

I named it "Victor"

after the dead actor

Victor Mature 

who starred in

the movie China Doll


I am determined

to not let him die


I look past the clouds

and hope for daylight

to dry the puddles 


I whisper



twice a day)

to Victor

to remind myself 

"crying isn't always

a sign of immaturity" 


but looking down

my teardops

spill into his soil

and his leaves

keep wilting 


Author's Notes/Comments: 

for Twilla, 2002 

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by Jeph Johnson


I break and enter my own living room
reducing my soul to rubble
knocking over the things I can't improve
and getting into more trouble
I tear out from the inside
the things I hold so dear to me
messy thoughts of suicide
blur what was so clear to me
I rob the rest of what remains
left stashed in my hiding place
gut my truth and no one complains
when I ransack things I can't replace

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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by Jeph Johnson


two years after the year you were mine
better known as 1999:
a time perhaps, I should have disregarded.


the years preceding the year you were mine
did not parallel, coincide or align
when compared with the years
after you departed...


a decline realized, our love built on lies
I never told and you thought I started...


disassembling completely a life with design;
I never knew if it was her or I
or the Architect who finally parted
and allowed the continuance of our demise...


demolishing all I had hoped to find
in one previously so tender-hearted.


two years proceeding the year you were mine
better known as 1999:
a time perhaps, I should have discarded.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for Teresa, 1999

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"A Stranger's Smile"

by Jeph Johnson


A stranger's smile
I know him not
Expressionless I gaze
Yet my emotions
Seem more active
And travel through a maze
He looks away
And seems to grin
Content that our eyes met
I stay bewildered
At loss for words
Harboring regret
Should I have nodded
And acknowledged
My curiosity complete
Or kept quiet
Like I did
In essence, a retreat?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

circa 2000 

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by Jeph Johnson


opinions of potency
no longer live
my passion dies with it
and the things that would
turn my depression around
I seem to not even recall at all
were there fair maidens
and was I a prince?
it seems in my past
I lived such as this
but my recollection
requires me to
form an opinion
I've yet to hold true

Author's Notes/Comments: 

circa 2000 

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"Why Can't I Be You?"

by Jeph Johnson


be yourself...
"she's got to love you
for who you are"
...but change
(look at this mess!)
change for yourself...
be yourself.
but don't be yourself
if being yourself
is someone who
won't change
for themselves.
but don't change
still change.
she'll love you
for who you are.
if she loves you
you won't have to change.
but unfortunately
she will not love someone
who is not willing to change
for themselves.
but you absolutely cannot
change FOR HER
for that is too much pressure
to put on her
it's not fair to her
plus you cannot be truly happy
if you change for her
despite all the happiness
you've ever known
arising from the excitement of changing
it still isn't true happiness
because you have changed

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for Twilla, 2001. With apologies to Robert Smith who I stole the title from. 

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