Popingay

Anonymous Gay Poet-In-Residence: A Very Gay Valentine’s Day

The mysterious AGPIR returns to enchant us with his gay verse. And after this one, I’m not sure he’ll have the limbs intact to write another. You’ll see why by the end of the poem. This can only end with him buried in a shallow grave. Though it may explain why both he and I remain single.

Another year has come and gone,
yet still I find myself alone.
I thought for sure I’d find the one
and have a valentine all my own.

Many prospects i have found,
yet none have managed to stick around.
Below are examples of a few
I see now why I’m single. Do you?

First there was Mike, now he was cute:
Six-pack abs, and a sweet smile too.
Locks of golden hair he wore,
but the moment he talked
I wanted to run out the door.

Along came Brad, now he was hot.
For this one would love me not.
He had a job, and money too,
but the boy was odd, and a little too taboo.

A month went by, and whom do I meet?
This stunning guy whose name was Pete.
He dressed so fine, and was so neat.
Little did I know he was into feet.

So if I can count right that makes three.
Let’s see if I can find some more,
I have always had good luck
with the number four.

So a different avenue I should try,
All I want to meet is a semi-normal guy!
Then, suddenly, my phone, it rings.
My best friend set up a blind date for me.

His name was Chris, but with a K,
my friend said, “he’s nice and friendly, and slightly gay”.
So off to coffee to meet this boy,
all excited I am, thrilled with joy.

I go to coffee, what do I find?
A flaming fag, and a voice like a whine,
dressed in pink from head to toe.
I sat at the table, looked right at him,
shook my head, and flat out said, “no!”.

So down and out I go home.
Yet again all alone.
What is with these boys I meet?
Never any luck happens to me.

So I sit, and begin to think:
perhaps it’s not them, it’s me.

So for all you boys, down and out
alone this day, going without,
perhaps it’s not the boys you see,
it’s because gay guys are so fussy.

Yeah, we’re both going to end up all sorts of alone.

[AGPIR’s sociopathy belies his tender, poetic soul. He writes poetry about the gay condition, and only occasionally bites the hand that feeds him. Meaning me. Hint.]

Well, hello, Josh: Welcome to the Monkey House

In which “monkey” means “penis”. But I’m assuming you’ve gathered that.

We have a bit of a problem here at Popingay: sometimes, when Kris is too lazy, tired, unimaginative, or coming down off a 6-day crystal meth binge, there is a lag in useable content. And sometimes he’s just too busy contemplating the greatness of pie. But we digress.

In these cases, we search high and low in our social network for people willing to fill in the gap and add to the multitudinous voices on the blog; people like our anonymous gay poet-in-residence (AGPIR—I’ve given him an official name). And in some even rarer cases, we find talented, interesting people willing to put their name, lives, and possible investigation by Homeland Security on the line.

That’s right. Today we are welcoming a new Guest Blogger, and he’s an American. Gasp. I’ll let him say hi in his own words in a couple hours, and we’ll be seeing an extra-special post from him later on today. Hopefully one of many, many to come (each post saves Kris tens of minutes of work writing a blog post).

I hope you’ll welcome Josh with all the respect and admiration you consistently shower on me with boos and death threats.

Above: What Kris thinks America is actually like. 

Manhunt: A narrative poem

Who needs Walt Whitman when I have access to my very own gay poet-in-residence? Plus he’s arguably better-looking than Whitman.

Arguably.

He still refuses to publish his name, so I vote for a pseudonym. He suggested “Hole Wrecker”, I suggested he could go wreck his own. That’s just the kind of friend I am. Ideas?

Still, he sent me a brilliant sequel to his first poem, on the wonders of Manhunt:

Alone in my bed,
I begin to think:
what would be better
than sex from a twink?

I take off my covers,
and walk out the room.
And wonder, now,
what should i do?

I turn on my computer,
and search the net.
I log on to manhunt.
I’ll find one on here, I bet.

The page begins to load,
and what do I find?
A room full of twinks
that like to take it from behind.

So many to choose from.
who will it be?
Like it really
matters to me.

Now comes the hard part,
decisions to be made.
Pick one already,
I just want to get laid!

So how do I do this?
What should i say?
I start off my message
with the word, “hey”.

I tell him he’s cute,
and adorable, of course.
Then I let him know
that I’m hung like a horse.

I boost up his ego,
and give him the bait.
Now let’s see if he’s horny.
The hour’s so late.

I get a response,
he is quick to reply.
He ask me if I am
straight, gay, or bi.

I ponder a bit
to give my response.
I look at his pic again,
and say, “man he’s so hot!”.

So I thought to myself,
well what should i say,
knowing for a fact
that I’m full fucking gay.

I say that I’m straight,
this is my first time.
I saw your pic,
and wanted to give it a try.

A minute or less,
a new message for me.
It seems that this twink
is horny as can be.

He said, “are you serious?
I am down for that.
I like to be pounded
hard on my back.

Now back to the flattery.
I need to seal this deal
for it’s his tight butt
that I want to feel.

I tell him he’s hot,
unlike the rest,rolling my eyes
as I typed this.

For no one on here
is as cute can be.
Thinking to myself,
it’s all about me.

Send off the message.
Now wait for response.
I hope he says yes,
I’m getting hard in the crotch.

He asks for my addy,
and cell number too.
Then he asks me
what all I’m into.

I answer his question,
and this is a fact,
I told him all i want
is to tap his tight ass.

I look at my phone,
a text I do see.
He’s on his way over.
Wasn’t that easy?

-[Anon.]

One of these days I’m going to illustrate this into a children’s book.

A gay hookup in verse! Now don’t be perverse.

A dear friend of mine sent me this poem via text this morning. Aside from some minor grammatical edits, it’s all his, and for once I’m content to step aside and let his brilliance take centre stage:

The night was so perfect,
was going so right.
He walked in the door,
and turned off the lights.

He went to my room,
and dropped to his knees.
Who would have thought
he was so eager to please?

He started to suck me.
The feeling was grand.
Finally, I thought,
I found me my man.

I was ever so close,
ready to cum.
Then all of a sudden,
things started to change.
He wanted to cuddle, dear god,
and exchange names.

How could my dream
turn drastic like this?
Oh no, I thought,
he might want to kiss.

From horny to annoyed,
there goes my bliss.
Then all of a sudden,
I soon realized:
This is my house, my rules,
his feelings need not apply.

So pushing his head
back down to my crotch,
I make him continue.
He’s not in my thoughts.

I finish my business.
He gets up and goes.
A smile on my face.
Who would have known?

-[Anon. (he refused to let me publish his name)]

I have the greatest friends.