Five Weird(ish)and Sexy Poems




sacs and bags

he's a very sexy young man,
muscular, athletic, relentlessly
energetic in activities sexual, intellectual,
and artistic. and certainly these activities are
a real benefit in various interpersonal relationships
during this young sexy hyper-energized time of his life.
**
and sometimes, perhaps it's during a drunken moment,
he wonders what kind of
old man he'll become. or even
if he'll become old at all.
afterall, he might
die young. ya never know. stuff
happens, don't it?
but, sometimes, in these
drunken moments, he imagines
himself  alone in his dotage,
watching his muscles shrink,
his face sag,
his fingerjoints grow arthritic. a time when
beautiful 20-something young men
are practically a different species,
who only interact with their own kind,
and
drift past him as if dwelling in another plane of existence.
**
it is then,
in these drunken moments,
thinking these drunken-moment thoughts,
that this very sexy young man suddenly rips off all
his clothes and grabs ahold of his big
thick sturdy dick, and
jerks himself off in a kind of wild furious frenzy,
and his orgasm
feels so good, so hot
sloppy and messy
good as all that hot gooey
messy cum spurts out of him, that
all other thoughts
are banished, and
just flutter away,
like dust, on a
dessert sand landscape,
bottles glinting in the
sunlight, other than
that, there's really
nothing to see, but it's all
just the
afterglow of
post-orgasm talking now, the
neo-sanctity of
impending disappointment.
**
it is then, lying there naked
on his back, his sexy chest and
belly spattered with his own viscous
smelly cum, his big thick
dick flopped against his sexy
sweaty thigh,
that
he wonders
about life, and death,
but mostly, what he wonders
is: how many minutes until my
dick gets hard again, and
i can shoot off
another great big load. then, he burps
up a booze bubble,
and giggles so sweetly,
you just want
to grab him and hug him,
perhaps pat him gently on
top of his head, and speak words
of gentle encouragement,
or something
like that anyway. people have
a way of getting distracted. happens
everyday.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2014)

=============================

the arrogance of micro-managed long-finned gobies

blue the color of ancient walkman confrontations,
the shards of swollen vessels of clay and bourbon
reaching into the back pocket of the sexy butt
of the cutest sexy young man you've ever seen,
oh my god yes, he is sexy,
this cutest sexiest young man you've ever seen
his jeans tight and faded, as though just
barely hanging on for another day at the races.
the curtains are drawn across the windows
of the shy and reticent, as they dream
their shy reticent dreams,
and, the preliminaries
of shoes and socks accomplished with great good ease,
the sexy young man takes off his jeans
and he takes off his shirt
and he takes off his underpants
and he exposes his entire
beautiful naked self to
the curtains in his own
room, in his own house, his
tawny port nipples tight from
the blow of the air-conditioning
system that threatens his good
mood, chills his
heart and quietly shuns
diversity in the workplace
only when he gives himself the
ole tugga tugga and spurts
an excess trace-amount of hot
gooey cum, do the songs of
the triceratops re-assert themselves,
and threaten the triumph of voracious
shape shifters, their mouths
lined with fence posts
that once tried to contain
the lightning bolts of
orgasm, splashed across
the headlines like
the blood of ghosts,
translucent as the mist
at midnight, when two
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
get up to wash their clothes,
and then their cars, the
oil on the driveway
dribbled like the sheen
of fossil teeth, glinting in
the assholes of trilobites,
before they had their first bite of
hamburger, tomatoes, onion,
lettuce, mayo,
in other words,
good clean American food,
penis tips of
these two sexy boys only slightly exposed,
as if fettered by shyness, in reality, though,
ready to face the end of the world,
or at least,
the transition to autonomous reasoning,
no more taking orders
just because it seems like
someone's in charge,
even though everyone knows
the thrill of the hunt,
even if the only thing you find,
has already
gone.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2014)

==========================

disciples and their dicks

ah the lure of green onions and pickle relish,
piled high on that hot dog.
as the sexy athletic teenage boy ate all that,
his big dick got hard,
and his tight faded blue jeans did nothing
to hide his situation from the world.
he stood there at the carnival,
8 friends all around him, all of
them good guys, like himself,
and one of them
instantly spotted his hardon.
"hardon!" he whispers, points, nudging
all 8 boys to notice their horned-up
friend.
the sexy athletic teenage boy with
the hardon goes right
on eating.
"look all you want," he says
to his group of friends now that he's
ascertained what they're all
looking at.
all 8 of them
have
now crowded around
him, as if to protect the very finest representative of
their group from
the eyes of potentially unsympathetic outsiders.
it is then that
the sexy athletic teenage boy who has
the hardon
suddenly spurts a big load of cum, right
there in his pants.
it is instantly obvious what has
happened, the white goo oozing through
the threadbare fabric of his faded old blue jeans.
there's a sudden lapse in
laughter, a halt in the gentle teasing
and whispered banter.
one of his 8 friends takes off his own
shirt, and hands it to
the sexy athletic teenage boy
who has just spurted cum.
"jeez, wrap this around yourself," says the
guy who has just taken off his own shirt.
the sexy athletic teenage boy who
has just spurted cum
finishes off the last of the hot dog
that's piled high with green onions
and pickle relish.
then he wraps the shirt around
his waist, covers up the spreading spot
of cum. his group of friends is
standing all around him, gathered around even
tighter than they were before.
there's the smell of cum
in the air.
there's now more than one hardon in
the group.
there's a strange yet lovely silence
overtaking
9 sexy boys,
at the carnival,
their herding
instinct kicking in,
their eyes that
radiate sparkle,
and kindness, and
the sweet gentle
nature of
screwy young
mirth, first cousin to
merriment, close kin to
the recognition that what
is sometimes viewed with horror, is
actually, just the innocent
insistence
on the nature of
joy.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2014)

===============================

radio fern

the riches that landed upon his plate
were jolly little things, shiny
and bright -- in fact, almost incandescent.
a sexy and big-dicked young man, he tended
to be rather shallow,
and was easily taken in by such goodies.
they made him smile, and his heartbeat
became fluttery, and extra-special-good.
the sexy big-dicked young man
stared at his riches-filled plate some more,
touched the objects one or two more times,
and then headed off to the forest
yet again, to renounce materialism
and material goods.  this was
approximately his one thousandth attempt
at that exercise, and, as he
stood in the temple-like silence
of the softly-lighted woods,
as always, he took off all
his clothes, and lifted
his arms towards the sky.
the sexy big-dicked young man
watched the dappled light filtering
between the delicate branches of the
religious-looking trees,
and his dick got hard,
and, as always,
he tugged upon it quite gently
while over and over renouncing
his love of sweet shiny things.
his rhythm was perfect, as he
tugged and tugged,
and, after several moments
of near-perfect bliss,
he spurted what felt like
a gallon of cum, and his
toes, nipples, and asshole tingled
with almost as much
pure pleasurable orgasmic
electricity as did his big smooth dick.
then,
the sexy big-dicked young man
stood there naked and alone,
his big dick drooping and dripping
a last little drop of cum,
and, now, just like
those thousand other times
when he was here, alone,
naked in the universe,
repentent, revitalized,
cum freshly spurted,
toes wriggling in
the pine-scented soil,
once again he renounced materialism,
renounced the glitter and sheen
of all bright shiny things,
and
now, once again,
he was sure
he was pure. 

--Carl Miller Daniels (2014)


===============================

zorro never rode a zebra

"ah, the flight of the bumblebee, how seemingly erratic,
and yet, how erotic, too," thinks the
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy, standing
in the woods, right at the edge, where
it joins a flower-dazzled meadow.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy is
watching several bumblebees, big thick hairy black
and yellow, tiny plastic-looking wings,
as they wander from flower to flower,
gouging out the pollen, or nectre, or
whatever the heck it is they're getting
out of each of those big smelly flowers.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy feels
erotic himself, and erratic, too, perplexed,
unsettled, almost adrift,
as he stands there naked at the
edge of the woods, where it bumps
up against the meadow, festooned
with the bounce and jounce of
bumblebees and flowers and blue
sky and bright hot yellow sun.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
licks his lips and tugs on his
big thick hard dick, for he is
quite turned on and sexed up
by the entire situation, the
bumblebees, their low throaty
rumble, the woods, the meadow,
the flowers, himself, his own
hot sensuous sexy self, a naked
presence, there here right this minute
alone at the edge of the woods
where it joins the meadow, as
he tugs gently on his own
big thick dick, its dickhead
hot and purple-pink and
dazzlingly slick to the touch.
the bumblebees drift
erratically about, from flower
to flower, how do they know
which flower to go to next,
as the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
wonders "what the fuck are they
actually DOING to those flowers,
eating pollen, drinking nectre,
storing pollen, fucking the flower?"
and then he starts spurting cum
and he feels weak and powerful
and near-delirious as the electro-jolt-voltage
of orgasm spreads through him
as his big thick dick spurts out
big gigantic great big gooey gobs of hot
runny cum, his tiny little nipples themselves
orgasmo-electrified, shooting out
frenetic zips & zaps of nipple-tip sparks in
the simmering summertime heat, as
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
stands there at the edge of the forest
where it bumps up against the meadow,
and watches the bumblebees, big,
hairy, black and yellow,
as they bump along in the
warm summer breeze, the last droplet
of cum clinging to the tip of
his dick, gradually lets go, slips,
drops, and quietly
hits the ground.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2014)