TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Sissy Boy by Edwin C. Ranck

Beware the Sissy Boy my child,
Not because he’s very wild;
The Sissy Boy is never that,
Although he’ll run if you say “Scat!”
The Sissy Boy’s infinitesimal,
He is not worth a duodecimal.

If you should take a custard pie
And hit a Sissy in the eye,
He would not go before a jury,
He’d only blush and say “Oh Fury!”
For he is perfumed, sweet and mild,
That’s just his kind, my dearest child.

One should never strike a Sissy,
He is too lady-like and prissy.
You do not need to use your fist
But merely slap him on the wrist,
And if this will not make him budge,
Then glare at him and say “Oh Fudge!”

The Sissy sports a pink cravat
And often wears a high silk hat;
His voice is like a turtle dove’s
And he always wears the “cutest” gloves.
At playing ping-pong he’s inured,
And his finger-nails are manicured.

He uses powder on his face
And his handkerchiefs are trimmed with lace;
He loves to play progressive euchre
And spend his papa’s hard-earned lucre.
He wears an air of nonchalance
And always takes in every dance.

Socially, he’s quite a pet
And always fashionably in debt.
He hates to be considered slow
And poses as a famous beau.
He loves to cut a swath and dash
When papa dear puts up the cash.

This, my child, is the Sissy Boy
Who acts so womanly and coy.
His head’s as soft as new-made butter;
His aim in life is just to flutter;
Yet he goes along with unconcern
And marries a woman with money to burn.

 

by EDWIN C. RANCK (1879-?)
Public Domain Poetry

colombine et pierrot

hey, tupelo mind
i strongly suggest you leave
i strongly suggest
you seek another mire
to plink your rotting lyre

hey, tupelo mind
i’ve scraped away your sweet songs
to find naught beneath
i’m allergic to honey
don’t make me your sex bunny

hey, tupelo mind
you cannot woo me
schtum, with roses ‘tween your teeth
do you believe i fancy
your phyllorhodomancy?

yeah, you strum and you jangle
in your bid to entangle
drying salty tears
with the hem of my slip dress
hey, tupelo mind

i don’t care if you have proof
please throw yourself from a roof
your love isn’t real
you just want to ride my flame
hey, tupelo mind

but love’s like a processed beat
chasing after music’s teat
come back, i need you
hey, pay attention to me
dear tupelo mind

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

GUEST POST // A gaze he had to meet by In mind and out

even in this crowded room
it was the type of gaze that filled the air
between them,
it swerved the corners of reality
with tangibility –
he felt it’s whispers wrap the shoulders of his fears
and write a message in the atmosphere
for him to see
the invitation that she
painted there,
in silken threads of space
that she pulled and interlaced with gravity,
electricity,
a reveal of fortune-cookie
destiny,
until it was a gaze he had to meet

 

by IN MIND AND OUT
© All rights reserved 2019