THE WITNESS

 

What a time to be a little boy in nursery.

 

The Days of Broken Arrows

 

Toy guns, swordfights with sticks, chasing girls

are of the past –

Get over it!

 

Climbing walls, swinging on branches, throwing stones

all risky undertakings –

For safety’s sake, don’t!

 

Movies, legislation, TV news, the ‘educated’

feed his destroyers and crush his spirit –

Enough, toxic masculinity!

 

Gender choice: My trans son wears make-up.  Endocrine warfare

You thought you were a boy –

You were wrong!

 

Depression, lack of focus, withdrawal, delusion, the life online;

the planned and fated boys’ future –

Sterile, your kind gone. And good riddance!

 

Fist fights, militant enthusiasms, competitive, impulsive, testosterone

You thought you were a boy –

You are.

 

I’m your Witness!

 

 

I’ve just read a propaganda piece about a school teacher and gaylife advocate for childhood sexualisation claiming that nearly 2/3 of his students (his term) identify as LGBTQ+. Naturally, this apparent fact was celebrated with a Pride parade. His students were in the nursery, and so four and five years old. And obviously, from the viewpoint of those who dream of such a future sexualised world, an ideal age for introducing identity politics and gender dysphoria.

The children mentored (for want of a better term) by this activist-sexducator obviously will have no idea that they are involved in a battle for their minds – and their souls. However, they will be damaged just the same by the deliberately introduced confusion, if not arguably attempted removal, of an essential foundation of the developing personality; namely, that you are a boy or girl. Both terms, we now learn, are hate terms in the new school lexicon.

It’s hard enough being an infant; learning to share Lego and getting the wrong juice at snacktime is a sufficient developmental challenge without adding a daily existential crisis of sexual identity.

To ask the question about what sort of world these childhood sex advocates want to create is to already know the answer.

This little poem is my response.

What think ye?