Two poems




a time like no other

"lock the door and put out the lights,
we're in for the night,"
says the sexy young hubby to his
sexy young wife. they have
been married for exactly
3 weeks. they are fucking
near constantly. they are
both very attractive
humans. he likes himself
naked. she likes herself
naked. they like each
other naked.
they like fucking.
a lot.
they do it a whole lot.
they've been married
for exactly 3 weeks,
and, while they
did it a fair amount
before they were married,
they are doing it
a WHOLE LOT
now.
**
so it is 10 pm and
all the lights
in the house
are off except
for the lights
in their bedroom and
the sexy young hubby
is cheerfully fucking
his sexy young wife,
and she is yipping with
pleasure, and he is
yelping with pleasure,
and when he spurts
his cum deep into
her, she is herself
cumming and cumming
and cumming, watching
his little nipples
with their tiny little
drops of sweat, clinging
-- oh yes the sexy
young hubby and his
sexy young wife like
doing it with the
bedroom lights on,
and no
covers over
their sweet
sexy young flesh.
**
in the morning,
over breakfast,
they look at
each other and have
a little giggle
fest -- it's all so
sickening sweet
you just want
to hug them both,
because by now
you're so in love
with them and
what they've got that
your feelings for them
could be described as
"not even healthy" --
the term "stalker" might
even be invoked,
amongst the cheerful
little chorus of the
grins and the
giggles.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in The Commonline Journal, July 13, 2015.)

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

flamingo waltz

the sexy red-haired college boy
undresses in front of
his bedroom window, with the blinds open.
then he masturbates. his dick is
huge, and it is so shiny it
approaches translucence.
his pubic hair is as red as the
hair on top of his handsome head.  when he
spurts cum, he spurts
it onto a big old beach towel that he has
spread across the foot of his skinny little bed. 
**
then he closes the blinds.
**
the show usually started at about
10:15 pm.
i was transfixed. that red pubic
hair is forever in my memory.
that big hard smooth translucent dick.
i stood outside his
apartment window, hidden
behind some shrubbery. he was in
his own apartment.
my apartment was nearby.
**
he moved out of his apartment.
one day, he was suddenly gone.
never saw him again.
several
months later, i moved out, too.
**
now,
i'm 63 years old.
i used to watch this show
when i was 27 years old.  i used to watch
it nearly every night.
then i would
hurry back to my own
apartment and
masturbate as if
my life depended on it.
**
i preferred totally
naked on my back,
in bed, a rattling fan
blowing cool air across my
belly.
**
as one gets older,
one notices barns with
faded paint,
roads slick and shiny
after a pounding rain,
the branches of trees heavier with
the weight of the water
after the storm, when their
leaves are all
drenched and dripping,
the crevices in their
craggy bark infused
with little rivulets.
**
cashews, however, remain my favorite
snack food.
you just can't
go wrong with cashews -- the taste
and texture
get right in your blood.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in The Commonline Journal, September 16, 2015.)