Definitelynot3opossums - Trans Opossum

O' Children of Watermelon Seeds and Olive Trees

O' Children of Watermelon Seeds,

tell me of your dreams

The one's where Father returns,

and Mother was always there

And Sister and Brother

can hold hands and dance

The ones where the buzzing of planes,

is nothing but a distant nightmare

O' Children of Olive Trees,

I know your blood runs deep

It gathers in the soil,

like Nature's finest oil

The trees care for you,

as you did for them

I wish I could be there for you,

as I know you'd be here for me

O' Children of the Red Sea,

I wish to listen to thee

But the phone is dead,

and the line is flattening

I wish not to hear your death's rattle,

but I know that if I don't,

we willl lose this Battle

O' Children of the East,

you're not the beast they say your are

You have the kindest hearts,

and the warmest smiles

When in reality,

It's the West that's vile

I know the people are not to blame

but those who supply and deny

This, and prior, Genocides

O' Leaders of the West

it's you who are the most Vile

You wish to sit in Denile

while blood is tainting the morale

Do you wish for more Oil?

Why else do you bomb their Soil?

O' Terrors of the Blue and White,

you are the very thing that killed your grandmothers and grandfathers

You Genocide and Terrorize,

like it's 1941

You monopolize on prior hate,

but Zionism isn't profitable

The world is watching,

and we'll laugh at your mistakes

All while holding up the children of

Watermelon Seeds and Olive Trees

Scars//Stories

Scars tell stories

Stories of triumph,

Stories of losses.

They say so much,

Even though they lack a mouth.

Purposeful or accidental,

There's a story to tell.

The firey explosion of a tank,

Or an accidental hit with a toy,

Tell a story nonetheless.

Jagged or clean,

Faint or dark,

Risen up or dented down,

All have a

Story to Tell.

Surgical scars,

Ment to help the living.

Methodical scars,

Meant to harm

but not kill.

Self done,

Used as a means to escape.

What? You may ask,

Only the person could tell.

War scars tell

War stories

Stories of Triumph

And shame.

Gunshots, blades, burns,

All leave their marks.

Scars from play,

Are perhaps the most entertaining.

A fall in a playground,

A hit too hard with a plastic sword.

Leaves the owner laughing,

As they tell

The stories of their scars.

Scars tell stories,

So be careful when you ask.

Some scars hurt,

Long after they

Bled and Burned.

Some are ashamed

Of the marks on their bodies,

Others find pride in marred skin.

Scars tell stories,

So some prefer to hide.

Others want the scars to see light,

Because they wish for their stories to be known.

Scars tell stories,

So it's important to listen.

Scars have power over the owner,

And those around,

Some overcome the power,

Others still struggle against it.

But all the same,

Big or Small,

Shallow or Deep,

Scars tell Stories.

Israel Has Lost

The US recognizes that the Israeli aggression, genocide and atrocities in Gaza are leading nowhere.

They force the Israeli terrorist state to negotiate behind the scenes.

The so-called “unbeatable IDF” is at a standstill.

3 months of fighting in a mini strip of land and achieving nothing except killing thousands of children.

The myth is broken. Forever. And everyone knows it now.

Israel has lost on all fronts: strategically, ethically and morally. They have become the pariah of the world.

By Arnoud van Doorn

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I Am You

A poem from 2012 by the late Dr. Refaat Alareer – murdered by ‘Israel’ on Friday, December 8, 2023, that will absolutely mesmerize you: “I am you”

Two steps: one, two. Look in the mirror: The horror, the horror! The butt of your M-16 on my cheekbone The yellow patch it left The bullet-shaped scar expanding Like a swastika, Snaking across my face, The heartache flowing Out of my eyes dripping Out of my nostrils piercing My ears flooding The place. Like it did to you 70 years ago Or so.

I am just you. I am your past haunting Your present and your future. I strive like you did. I fight like you did. I resist like you resisted And for a moment, I’d take your tenacity As a model, Were you not holding The barrel of the gun Between my bleeding Eyes.

One. Two. The very same gun The very same bullet That had killed your Mom And killed your Dad Is being used, Against me, By you.

Mark this bullet and mark in your gun. If you sniff it, it has your and my blood. It has my present and your past. It has my present. It has your future. That’s why we are twins, Same life track Same weapon Same suffering Same facial expressions drawn On the face of the killer, Same everything Except that in your case The victim has evolved, backward, Into a victimizer. I tell you. I am you. Except that I am not the you of now.

I do not hate you. I want to help you stop hating And killing me. I tell you: The noise of your machine gun Renders you deaf The smell of the powder Beats that of my blood. The sparks disfigure My facial expressions. Would you stop shooting? For a moment? Would you?

All you have to do Is close your eyes (Seeing these days Blinds our hearts.) Close your eyes, tightly So that you can see In your mind’s eye. Then look into the mirror. One. Two. I am you. I am your past. And killing me, You kill you.

When it is Radical to be Yourself

I feel as if people don't know that indentity can be radical

Not just with Civil Fights, but day to day life

I, myself, live in a world where it is radical to wake in the morning

But not many people know it

When I wake up, alive and living, anger flares in hundreds of people

When I eat,

sleep,

and breathe,

there are people who hate me

When I enjoy my life, people wish me death

I, however, have an easier life than others like this

But I still live in a world where it is radical to be myself

When it is Radical to be Yourself,

you live in a world where people hate your very being

You living is a polictal statement,

that you are here and they cannot get rid of you

As a Trans Youth living in the U.S.,

my very life is a polictal statement

To those who hate me,

who want me dead,

who write and fund legislature that could ruin me,

Me living is a political statement

And to this rest like me,

who live a life like this,

Stay Living

For Who You Are is Radical,

and they cannot change that

Every breathe you take,

is proof that you and your community is stronger than those who hate

Abdalhadi Alijla - "What can I tell my 76-year-old mother and my 10-year-old niece? "The ICJ does not see ordering a ceasefire as necessary for your survival." Gazans' eyes and ears were eagerly awaiting the word "stop" or "ceasefire”."

Abla Abdelhadi: "Please keep in mind our Palestinian people in Gaza don't feel like celebrating incremental legal "wins". They're allowed to express outrage, disappointment & whatever they want. They're still under Israel's bombs, nothing for them to celebrate!"

Remi Kanazi: "The ICJ isn't the authority here. Palestinians are. It is they who have experienced the genocide. It is they who have faced the gruesome crimes detailed in those halls. It is they who continue to bury the dead, search for food & hope to dodge the next bomb dropped. Ceasefire now."