Transphobic Poetry - Post your transphobic poetry

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Earlier this year, I met a tranny,
Who said, "put your cock inside my fanny,
"And while you're at it, suck my dick,
"Or else I'll call you transphobic."

But I had no time for this crossdresser.
She seemed confused, misguided, God bless her.
I knew exactly what had to be done,
And thought I'd have a little bit of fun.

I said, "I'm not interested in your fetish,
"Your shoulders are broad, your face is blemished.
"I know this response will inspire your fury,
"But you're just a dude obsessed with yuri."

"Don't kid yourself, women don't have a dick,
"And demanding sex makes you a prick.
"Straight men don't want to have sex with dudes,
"You've confused reality with your futanari nudes."

"Porn is just art. Not real, it's fiction,
"But you've made it your life, a total addiction.
"And you act like your vices are moral fiber,
"As you inject yourself with more sissy cider."

"You seek out kids like the sex offender watch list,
"While telling us, 'we won't hurt them, pinky promise!'
"Then you convince them to join your cult,
"Where drugs and mutilation is the end result."

"When other catch onto you and become smarter,
"That's when your start acting like a martyr.
"You feign victimhood and cry 'genocide'
"To get unsuspecting Samaritans on your side."

"You'll harass, dox, and seek to cause harm.
"Funny, isn't that what you accuse the Kiwi Farm?
"You're nothing but bullies and sexual predators,
"And you diddle more kids than the average Senator."

I opened my eyes as I finished my speech,
Expecting to hear a tranny's vile screech,
But for the sanctity of my ears and to my surprise,
The tranny had already met her demise.

I looked up to examine a nearby lamp.
Swinging from a rope was the manly tramp.
In her pants, she had pitched a large tent,
As she finally became the Forty-One Percent.
 
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I’m late but:
IMG_5961.jpeg

For all intents and purposes

I am a normal man

But in between my manly legs

there hides a sloppy clam

A hairy wet punani, a taco made of ham

Made of roast beef, he loves to queef and squirt lots when he can

My fishy little manpoon, he makes me very mad

I told the doctors

“sort this out! He’s making me so sad”

So then they took my arm

Cut out a square of skin

They rolled, sewed it, built it

Then stuck it right back in

My punani was sore and wet, but I felt like a male

My brand new peenie weenie, was anything but failed!

However the next week from then i felt a strange sensation

My gushing sloppy clam was not enjoying this creation

My poon was itching sore and red just like a house on fire

My frankendick was sinking, my brand new oscar meyer!

My punani needed cock so bad he swallowed up the dick

Not to mention the replacement made my punani feel sick

So the moral of the story, men, your punani comes first

Listen to your clammy boy, or your frankendick may burst.
 
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I met a troon from Britbongland,
Who lisped—“a vast dilated hole of am
Rots in the desert. . . . Near it, on the sand,
Half sunk a smirking visage lies, whose beard,
And spinny skirt, and bolt-on tits of stone,
Tell that his surgeon well his fetish read
Which yet survives, stamped on his balding pate,
The hand that mocked him, and the fetish fed;
And on the X bio, these words appear:
'My name is Aussie Mandy, pronoun 'she';
Look on my hole, ye normies, and despair!
Nothing inside remains. 'Cept the decay
Of my colossal Wreck, braless and bare;
All sane and level heads, run thee away'"


it needs some work, I know.. I'm open to suggestions if anyone can make it flow a bit better. Edited for minor improvements; if anyone can help me change that second 'fetish' so I'm not repeating the word that'd be fab
 
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Something I wrote a long time ago and never bothered to share. More of a song than a poem, but whatever.

Growing up, I wished there were more women in code
Cause back in those days I was lonely in the cold
Wanted someone like-minded to join me on the road
To grow together with, maybe even till we're old

I got my wish later, just not as planned
Cause every "woman" in tech is really just a man
Careful where you say that or you're gonna get banned
And treated like you're part of the Klan, yeah I'm talkin bout troons

Some say AGP, some say it's the tism
Maybe they just wanna be a professional victim
Or think that if they dress up a lez might kiss em
Even though dykes don't want anyone to dick em

Any way you look it's all about attention
Normally you get it through acts of good mention
But larp as a girl and you spark sexual tension
And drama past comprehension, that's the problem with troons

He's got:
"She/her" in his about-me line
And he types like a teenage girl from 09

Heavy interest in video games
And he goes by his teenage crush's first name

Has a working knowledge of compsci
And of course he's "lesbian", he ain't in it for a guy

Plus a body like a tub of lard
And so many other traits you can fill a bingo card

Now what separates them and an incel
Is they buy clothes and pills to look "female"
Neither gets pussy without risking time in jail
And both are men even though at that job they fail

We need to round em up and send em all away
To the tiny sites where they all used to stay
When no one else cared about what they had to say
So we don't hear about em all day, no more trouble from troons
 
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