Three poems


just babbling away again, enjoying the heck out of cliches, life, everything

it was the biggest dick i had ever seen
the sky opened up and poured rain on everyone
it soaked us all
and sent us scrambling for shelter
lord, please make these urges go away
the lean lithe athletic boy lay naked on his back on his
bed furiously stroking his great big cock until
it shot gob after gob of hot translucent semen
all over his taut, sweet, sweaty belly and his hard,
gorgeous, tiny-nippled chest.
somehow we've got to make sense out of all this.
cry the beloved country.
he voted in favor of pornographic art.
he has an unusual fascination with the genitalia of superheroes.
picture superman naked, on top of lois lane.
he has to pull out before he cums otherwise his supercum
would blast big gaping holes through
her hot panting flesh and kill her.
did you see that guy at the other gas pump, his jeans
were so tight you could see the outline of his cock perfectly
and i do mean perfectly.
so we sat down at a nice quiet table in an out-of-the-
way cafe, and we talked for hours about everything,
about nothing, and then we went back
to my place and talked for another five hours
before i finally got his pants off and we were both rolling
around naked on the floor.
that cat is so smart, he knew exactly what to do with
his litter box the moment we showed it to him.
class, i want you to focus on me, i need your full and
undivided attention up here at the front of the room.
i'm afraid yet again he's made a mountain out of a mole hill.
birds twittered in the trees, and then there was silence,
and the hoot of an owl, and then the manitou stirred, and
walked the darkened woodlands, looking for its next victim.
he cried himself to sleep, wondering if he'd ever understand
why sex had even been invented, and why it was all he could
ever seem to think about.
he ate corn flakes for breakfast, and he felt fine until about
10 a.m., when he was hungry all over again.
alone, standing on the summit of the mountain,
he looked at the vast and distant lands spread out
before him, and he smiled triumphantly.
many of us would have called it a smug and self-satisfied grin.
because that's exactly what it was.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem, recently slightly revised, appears in its earlier form in my book String Bean, published by BareBackPress in March of 2018.)


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a confession

now that
River Phoenix is dead
i don't like him
as much
as i used to

--Carl Miller Daniels

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pollen lampshades

"in the kingdom of
the banana milkshakes," says
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy, wandering
the
pungent mango-scented aisles
of the all-natural supermarket,    
"we must accept only the finest."  and,
as the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
wanders the aisles in
the kingdom of juice and
pain, insanity waves its
dismissive arms, and anxieties
scatter like bluebirds.  "oh let us manufacture more
organic pumpkin pies," says the
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy,
"for paradise is but a pineapple stellar aspiration to
be gently inhaled," he says,
as store management becomes aware
of the naked boy situation there in aisle 6,
their vocal cords buzzing like
buttery bumble bees, the gently
extracted nectar of the exclusively
grown elusive organic pomegranate
the only vaguely subtle road to
all that sweet jesus honey.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in Chiron Review, Issue #103, Spring 2016.  It also appears in my book String Bean.)