"puer" poems
_While most beauty pageants are strictly for girls_,
there are a growing number that include boys as well;
[often, age divisions
for boys run through age 6
with very few going beyond that due to lack
of mutual participation in the rampant molestation];
Age divisions will often have names
such as Baby Miss, Petite Miss, Little Miss &c.
Age divisions broken down as follows: 0–11 months,
12–23 months, 1-3 years, 4–6 years, 7–9 years,
10–12 years, 13–15 years, and 16–18 years;
For boys, sometimes two age divisions
would be merged such as 0–3 years, 4–6 years, etc.
Depending on which type of pageant system
is entered, contestants will spend about two hours
or less in the actual competition. Typically,
pageants have a guideline of no more than one
and a half minutes on stage per child for beauty
or formal evening wear; talent usually limited
to two minutes or less;
with the exceptional allowance
of two and a half to three minutes;
In glitz pageants, it is expected that girls
have different routines for every segment
of competition composed of different
movements sometimes described as sassy walks
and pretty feet among other names. ****** expressions can include liberal amounts of duck face; often referred to
as "pro-am modeling". Big hair (including fake hair),
flawless makeup, spray tans, flippers [fake teeth],
and nail extensions are also expected of contestants;
Glitz pageants may best be described as anything goes;
groping, molestation, **** group molestation,
forced oral & ********* virginity checks are routine; any
hyperactive child & also the parent subject
to a thorough, prolonged cavity search;
In contrast, natural pageants have
fairly strict guidelines regarding clothing,
makeup, hair extensions, etc.
Programs such as _National American Miss_
forbid any makeup other than non-shiny lip gloss & mascara;
for girls on stage. This modeling style is referred to as Miss America style [Some pageants have a prescribed
set of movements while others
allow more latitude in how girls will use the stage or runway]
Miss Tanguita translated
_Miss Child Bikini,_
is held in Barbosa, Santader,
Colombia as part of the annual del Rio Suarez Festival
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
Of the dark past
A child is born;
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.
Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!
Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.
A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!
3.3k
Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa
Rendred almost word for word without Rhyme according to the
Latin Measure, as near as the Language permit.
What slender Youth bedew’d with liquid odours
Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Cave,
Pyrrha for whom bind’st thou
In wreaths thy golden Hair,
Plain in thy neatness; O how oft shall he
On Faith and changed Gods complain: and Seas
Rough with black winds and storms
Unwonted shall admire:
Who now enjoyes thee credulous, all Gold,
Who alwayes vacant, alwayes amiable
Hopes thee; of flattering gales
Unmindfull. Hapless they
To whom thou untry’d seem’st fair. Me in my vow’d
Picture the sacred wall declares t’ have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of Sea.
2.3k
Oh, Woman
He’s dreaming of your depth
like a synergy of effortless truths
your imaginary *** a mystical shore
waxing and waning in violent tides
of affectionate sap
He would fly his kite running out of breath
like a child blessed with forgetting
puer aeternus
He would spin the hours in laughter,
in untamed visions
and here it is...
time revisited with gossamer touch
the bestiary revised with tender beings
making love in the naked air
in the breeze of forgotten forests
in purple shy sheets
in the miracle of tomorrow
in unshed skins
imagine the bliss of the first breath
the dreams in geological strata
She’s just waiting for your rhyme
for you in primordial waters
unborn
now and again
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
What’s cute about my little cutie
Is his beauty, not brains
Old father time will never harm me
While his charm still remains
Just cos you grow old, baby
You don’t have to be a cold baby…
How I love my catamite
Rising proudly like a stalagmite
He keeps me young and beautiful
The way I want to be loved
Never fails to work his fluff
My delicious, golden powder puff
Keeps me young and beautiful
The way I want to be loved
Though I’m old, there’s no need to be placid
And if ever I feel slightly flaccid
I indulge in benign flagellatus
With my puer delicatus…
He lends me all his charms
When I’m tightly bound within his arms
Keeps me young and beautiful
The way I want to be loved
Though he’s not going to win any prizes
For his essays on Nietzsche or Kant
You have only to glance at his thighses
To see why I keep coming back…
I adore my catamite
My delightful little sodomite
He keeps me young and beautiful
The way I want to be loved
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
I won the race,
tail me.
I lost my balance,
Don't right me.
I won second place,
bewail me.
I lost the toss,
Don't kite me.
I won the ribbon,
impale me.
I lost my cool,
Don't ice me.
I won the job,
avail me.
I lost the argument,
Don't cite me.
I won the bid,
assail me.
I lost the battle,
Don't fight me.
I won the vote,
hail me.
I lost the my way,
Don't slight me.
I won the lottery,
blackmail me.
I lost some will,
Tread lightly.
I won the case,
bail me.
I lost the cross,
Don't indict me.
I won the girl,
unvail me.
I lost some teeth,
"So bite me!"
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
I tell you it's hard to live with a man
Who's always so preoccupied
With making other people happy,
Especially at Yuletide.
Time and again I've asked why he
Prefers to live in this frigid zone.
And then he works each Christmas Eve
While I have to stay home alone!
I mean, why this bias of Christmas
With winter and snow year after year
When it's nice and steamy on Earth's
Beautiful southern hemisphere?
Don't get me wrong: I don't begrudge
His eleemosynary devotion
To making other people happy.
That's a kind and generous notion.
But his thoughts are always on
"The kids," and so, I feel neglected.
And yet I always put on the front
Of being cheerful, cool and collected.
Another thing I must admit:
It's hard for a wife whose hubby enjoys
An overwhelming fascination
Or infatuation with all his toys!
You might think the man is cute;
However, I am less enthralled.
He suffers from puer aeternus.
At least that's what I think it's called.
I tell him, "Dear, I understand
Your thoughtful desire to do good deeds,
But maybe you are overdoing it.
Don't forget: wives have needs."
I sometimes think the worst might happen
Whenever my spirits start to sink.
I have to muster up inner strength
To stop myself from taking to drink.
I'd love to be able to find a place
Where we could spend some time by ourselves.
It isn't easy to live with a man
Who spends all his time with reindeer and elves.
Oh, well…I guess it's true:
Every marriage has its flaws.
But try to imagine what it's like
To be Mrs. Santa Claus.
-by Bob B (12-25-18)
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
puer
puera puerae
puella puellus
puelli
mani
cured and trimmed
too close almost
cuticle cut
blister sigh
blood blister
blood blossoming beneath
the nail bed
hit it right on
the nailhead
shaved legs,
and a neckbeard.
sledgehammer Sally
sips sweetly from silly
saddle-wearin' thoroughbred
unicorns
I am a fairy faun from
deep inside your frightful
wardrobe roaring lion lyin'
through the skin of my teeth
ice queen itch
I scream for
tag team *****
*** bag drag teen
ditch
pull queen grab
done deal dean
pull mean
and drag me in and
pull me out and
grab a hold and
leg it go and
let's flow and
I'm a ******* princess
gasping
and I'm Prince
Caspian
dead and
drowning between
blurred lines between
between the read the lines blurred
and I'm just trying to reach through
the seemingly subtle spaces
in between rows of words
between letters and faces
but every line and every
curve of the pen is an
iron bar and I'm just
trying to reach through
reach up through
all these symbols
pull myself out of
all these vague
misrepresentations
of understandings and
I accidentally cut myself
on the serrated edges of
the pixelated abstractions
and drip drip
Let's get some coffee.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
Quis est iste puer?
Not even the
sterile, serious
hospital scene
can diminish
the wonder.
Your wife
glows radioactive.
Something new
in this old world.
Love made flesh.
In her arms,
your child.
The Cosmos smiles.
Everything changes
forever.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:54 AM UTC
Mon père, fils de lièvre de métal et de coq de bois,
Est né sous l 'obédience du porc d'eau,.
Ma mère, fille de lièvre d'eau et et de chien de métal,
Sous celle de la chèvre de métal.
Je naquis sous le dragon d'eau un jeudi,
Chaotique et sauvage, à quatorze heures vingt-cinq
A la longitude soixante et un virgule sept ouest,
Quatre mille et six cent quarante neuf ans après le roi Jaune
Puer aeternus, dragon noir, tout feu tout flamme
Dominante intuition et adjuvant pensée !
Compatibilité optimale : serpent et rat !
Le sang qui court dans mes veines
C'est la Rivière Noire, le fleuve Amour
Je suis frère cosmique du Dragon Jaune,
Du Dragon Perle et du Grand dragon.
Et Dragon d'Eau je conçus avec un cheval de bois
Une chèvre de terre.
Vint ensuite un serpent d'eau
Qui engendra un lièvre de feu
suivi d'un serpent de terre.
Puis ce fut le tour d'un buffle de métal
Dont j'héritai d'un buffle de feu
Suivi d'un lièvre de terre.
Ma chère et tendre est un serpent d'eau.
Et si je remonte plus **** encore
Si je me replonge dans ma généalogie zoologique et élémentaire
Mes arrière-grands-pères paternels étaient chien d'eau et serpent de feu
Mes arrière-grands-pères maternels étaient lièvre de terre et cheval de métal
Mes arrière-grands-mères paternelles étaient rat de bois et cheval de terre
Mes arrière-grands-mères maternelles étaient lièvre de terre et cheval d'eau.
Je vous épargne les arrière-arrière
Et les trois fois arrière
De cette généalogie astrologique
Mais ne trouvez-vous pas étrange
Que je sois le seul dragon d'eau de cette lignée
Et que par exemple aucun tigre d'eau ni de papier ni de rhum n'y figure ?
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:19 PM UTC
"Tu solus puer, non solum tenebris est, et mori pro populo. Fortis puer es, sed ego sum ultra vires; Ego in finem, et venerunt tibi"
"You are alone child, there is only darkness for you, and death for your people.
You are strong child, but I am beyond strength; I am the end, and I have come for you."
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC
It's hard not to
Completely fall for someone
Whom, without effort
Brings out the absolute
Best in you
The most beautiful thing
About young love
Is the truth
In their hearts
That it will last forever
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC
In memory’s unobserved corner there hides a small boy
So tired of sorrow he no longer cared even for joy.
With a wounded child’s wisdom he thought it to be prudent
To take Mister Spock and make himself the Vulcan’s student
Not because Spock was very stylish or outwardly cool
(Though he was cool); but rather, tired of feeling like a fool
He set out to tread this path, the unsmiling Vulcan way
He sought to do what Spock would do, to say what Spock would say.
He made his mask the untrembling visage, sans all motion,
Took for his own that grave face ungoverned by emotion,
Because even if it felt like interiorly dying
This inhuman discipline must beat unmanly crying
For a Vulcan’s arched eyebrows and a Vulcan’s pointed ears
Were worth the trade considering the dearth of Vulcan tears.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
Formosae vincla puella
et sedeo duras janitor ante fores
Bound fast in the bonds
of lovely I sit a janitor before
his stubborn doors
lured tawny, dazzled, sleeve’s
lost echo
blood-murmur striking zero
Shaded slowly that bright comes.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
*mother of mysteries
love like water
spirit of life
puer and puella
arm and arm
a tangle of kisses
with fear and faith
they walk
tear blinded
through
the
roads
of
God*
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC