Three Poems 


satellite nectarines

gargantua strides across the land,
big thunderous steps
trees are flattened
tour busses
totally destroyed
deer and elk scurry to get out of the way --
all this goes on
as
two sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
play with each other's
dicks --touching, squeezing, jerking--
they've never done this before,
never touched each other like this or
in any other blatantly sexual way either --
this is their first time doing anything like this
but now,
in a cozy little basement bedroom,
the two sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
touch each other's dicks until
they gasp and
pant and
spurt cum --
gargantua
strides across the land
eating busloads of
tourists, crushing
Walmart billboards,
tasting the vinyl siding
of unlucky houses
as
the two sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
look at each other's now-cum-drippy
dicks and smell the
smell of
burning reptilian claw fingers
drifts like an unwashed armpit wet with
musk and sweat
gargantua's tail thrashes back and forth
up and down
the two sex naked big-dicked teenage
boys look at each other's gooey cum spots
and the television
gets suddenly quiet
gargantua thrashes his big
mighty tail
crushes another hapless
jerk who moved too slow, now
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
giggle a little bit
now, just a little bit, true it's a giggle,
but nervous oh
so nervous.

--Carl Miller Daniels   




for example, you just might have a big fuzzy
parallel universe coconut in your very own bed

supposedly,
parallel universes are universes that exist right on top
of this one.
right on top of me there may be,
at this very minute and entirely unbeknownst to me,
a tall cute naked parallel universe
man with the tip
of his great big cock snuggling in my ear.
or right this minute there may be a parallel
universe train with a huge 400 quadzillion ton
locomotive traveling through your chest.
or there may be crisp pungent red apples falling languidly
off a tree right through the top of your head and
landing in your feet.
this parallel universe concept thing is a real riot.
every once in a while when you think you
hear someone talking and no one is there,
every once in a while when you feel a cold chill
and there's no window open and no air conditioner
running and no fan running, maybe it's something
really powerful wild strong magnificent going
on in the parallel universe, maybe a hurricane
or a typhoon or 5,000 of the handsomest young
men in the whole parallel universe going at it
in one big oily orgy of hot athletic homoerotic sex
or a city is collapsing under the trauma of
a point 99 parallel universe earthquake, for a moment
you feel someone is talking, or a cool
breeze moves across your ear lobe,
you stand up and look around, and settle
back down to some more moments
of uneasy boredom, the tv barking at
you nastily like a spoiled little overfed dog.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Shy Boys at Home, published by Chiron Review Press way back in 1999.)

 

peace love lust understandingsomething like that

three sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
sit by a stream
and talk and laugh
and jerk off
and spurt cum
and laugh some more.  they are
particularly amused
at the varied trajectories at which
their cum spurts -- "rocket-launch" and
"sideways spatter badly-aimed" to
"just plain sloppy" -- and at their
varied volumes of cum -- "goodgod half a gallon!" to "just
a pitiful little ole sputter" --
then they laugh some more and talk some more
and then does life continue gently along seeming like
pure unzipped fun
as
three sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys sit
by a stream and
laugh and joke and spurt cum.

--Carl Miller Daniels