Sex Cult Leader and Intersex Cellmate: New Poet Offers Tender Verses to Keith Raniere and Toni Fly

This is to make it clear to people like Snorlax, Nice Guy and a bunch of others that this post is about poetry. This is not for gags, but is real serious stuff. Toni Fly and Keith Raniere spent six months together in the SHU, and Fly has begun writing about her close-quarter experiences with the glorious leader of NXIVM, whom followers called Vanguard.

J P Poet

J P PoetA new poet has emerged, and we stand aside to give him space.  He wrote at first what we crude ones – the editors of the Frank Report, and its low-brow readers – thought was doggerel.

MK10ART painting of Toni Fly and Keith Raniere.

J P Poet appeared first in a comment on the post Sharing a Cell with Keith Raniere—What Really Happened in Our Tiny Space

He wrote:

Heave High, Leave Vanguard Dry

By J P Poet

Toni Fly is hot.
Keith Raniere is not.
Toni Fly is out
Keith Raniere will rot on a cot

Toni is cute
Keith makes me puke
I hate to think of her with him
It takes away my vigor and my vim

Keith Raniere is like a canary

Toni Fly is the apple of my eye

Toni Fly, you lovely girl
Let’s take a whirl
I’ll make you forget
Your ugly Vanguard pet.

Yes, at first it seemed crude and silly poesy praise for the intersex Toni Fly. Then J P Poet offered a second poem, with a more serious tone, and the editors of the Frank Report saw fit to give it a post of its own.

MK10 ART's painting of Toni Fly and Keith Raniere

MK10 ART’s painting of Toni Fly and Keith Raniere

Marie White's Toni Fly and Keith Raniere

Marie White’s Toni Fly and Keith Raniere

120 Years of Carved Regret Etched in Stone

J P Poet

By J P Poet

Fly and I

Keith says hi
She says bye

There ‘s no place to go
Not in the SHU
And nothing else to do

But even that
Can’t make Toni like that twat
No Keith ain’t cool
And Madam Fly
Took him to school

He wandered with his eye
Saw that scintillating Fly
Who said no
He started to cry

He’ll never have a piece
Like that again
120 years and then
To hell and when
The devil tempts him
With his shiny glans

He’ll think of Toni Fly
And how he missed out when
His greatest chance
Was his last
The time went fast
Six months alone
I purgatory I descended
In the form of Toni Fly
Then left.

The lust object of a thousand
Brutal men
It was I to teach him
Keith the thief
Of virginity or sanity
Of Patience
Of the long station
He must endure
Without a woman
Without her heart

Without the comfort
In his tiny cell
Of the tender Toni Fly
And hell was not
Rejection but the loss of her affection

Lonely is the karma of KAR

He once had Toni Fly
And lived and loved
And lost her
In a twinkling of an eye
And all the years that pass
Too slow will let him know
The gorgeous curve
The broadened hip
The wavering silhouette
Of the beautiful slip
Of a woman (though part man)
The last stop on the road of
Love and lust was Toni Fly
And I

He who abused so many
Of the all-female plan
Who took down Their pants
Because he said it would
Be best
It would last.

To keep it in his pants
Till he goes on to
The grave of no awakening

A Selection of MK10ART paintings depicting Raniere in prison

MK10ART's painting of Keith Alan Raniere where he presently resides.

MK10ART’s painting of Keith Alan Raniere where he presently resides.

Mk10Art painting of Keith Raniere

MK10ART's Raniere in prison.

MK10ART’s Raniere in prison.

MK10ART's sketch - Cold Raniere in prison.

MK10ART’s sketch – Cold Raniere in prison.

In the above poem, J P Poet assumes Toni Fly did not give in to Raniere’s amorous propensities, something the editors of Frank Report do not know. We are waiting for the next installment from Toni Fly to find out.

Intersex Toni Fly to Tell Story: Why the BOP Locked Her With Keith Raniere for Six Months

‘Only Vagina Around’: Toni Fly Tells All About Life with Keith Raniere in Prison

Sharing a Cell with Keith Raniere—What Really Happened in Our Tiny Space

One more submission from Toni Fly–

J P Poet

By J P Poet

The cell grows cold,
the bitter chill.
Haunted by her every thrill

Despite the will.

The bars are steel, but so is fate,
and so his nerves

long endless wait

The days pass in sameness

in the fight for sanity

Alone in his cell.

The years pass

Each more slowly

Till death the vision unfolding

No touch, no voice, no sigh,
From the fading ghost of Toni Fly.