Saturday, February 29, 2020
winter rendezvous
you're a boy in love with a boy
and you're standing in his living room
and
he kisses you on the lips and you
kiss him right back
it's cold outside
poinsettias are blooming in
the windowsills
you are just a boy in love with
a boy, you are standing
there in his living room,
kissing his lips.
your heart is beating fast.
wind blows outside
the windows.
poinsettias bloom
gentle & big.
the front of your pants
turns to
silver ingot
the front of his pants turns to
gold bar.
both of
you are
rich
fabulously
rich
the wind blows
poinsettias bloom
wealth
takes you
into dizzy territories
white sheets
of slick cloth
write
themselves
silly
giggles are
coos of love
turtledoves
of
wet pubic-haired
drip
semen
slippery you breathe
like locomotives
sliding big metal
through the slick
kayak bouncing
topside
a magistrate
savors the
success of all
green tanks of red
salamanders -- that's
hot sexy in the winter,
hotter than
you
ever
believed
poinsettias would get
snowflakes winds
howls & whines,
then
settles down to touching
silence, belfry
locks lapse, smooth
lightly-scented
breath
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in FUCK!, Vol 3, no. 4, April 2000.)
you're a boy in love with a boy
and you're standing in his living room
and
he kisses you on the lips and you
kiss him right back
it's cold outside
poinsettias are blooming in
the windowsills
you are just a boy in love with
a boy, you are standing
there in his living room,
kissing his lips.
your heart is beating fast.
wind blows outside
the windows.
poinsettias bloom
gentle & big.
the front of your pants
turns to
silver ingot
the front of his pants turns to
gold bar.
both of
you are
rich
fabulously
rich
the wind blows
poinsettias bloom
wealth
takes you
into dizzy territories
white sheets
of slick cloth
write
themselves
silly
giggles are
coos of love
turtledoves
of
wet pubic-haired
drip
semen
slippery you breathe
like locomotives
sliding big metal
through the slick
kayak bouncing
topside
a magistrate
savors the
success of all
green tanks of red
salamanders -- that's
hot sexy in the winter,
hotter than
you
ever
believed
poinsettias would get
snowflakes winds
howls & whines,
then
settles down to touching
silence, belfry
locks lapse, smooth
lightly-scented
breath
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in FUCK!, Vol 3, no. 4, April 2000.)
blips
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy is
sitting in his bedroom, on the edge
of his bed, his feet on the floor,
saying, kind of quietly, kind of
whispered, but kind of right outloud,
"sorry for the apple pie.
sorry for the cream puffs. sorry for
the cum stain on the rug. sorry for
the beer. sorry for the wine.
sorry for the whiskey."
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
has a full thick raging hardon,
and he is gently tugging on his
big thick dick, as he says,
"sorry for the toothbrush. sorry
for the amaretto cupcakes. sorry for
the D on the biology test. sorry
for the time i came in michael's
hair." the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
wriggles his toes into the fibers of his
nice thick rug, and he tugs on
his big hard dick some more,
and he says, "sorry for
the airplanes. sorry for
the war machines. sorry
for the dissolution of
hopes, dreams, and aspirations
of greatness."
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is tugging faster, he knows
he's about to cum, knows he's
about to go into electro-convulsive
spikes of shock as his cum goes
spurting out the peehole of
his big thick purple dickhead.
"sorry for the pentagrams on
the livingroom wall. sorry for
the watercress sandwiches. sorry for
the lion languishing in the
city zoo. sorry for the
pace of traffic, the sincerity
of useless desire." and at
this moment,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
starts spurting cum, and
it goes all over his sexy smooth
chest and flat taut belly
and dribbles into his
pubic hair and he stares
up at the ceiling and
pants and gasps with
the sheer electro-joy-jolt
of his extremely excellent
high-voltage orgasm and
then he says,
"sorry for the
pumpkin pie. sorry for the
turkey. sorry for the
methodology of
digestion. sorry for
the horsehair in the
dead old pillows."
then,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
stands up, wipes the cum off of himself
with an old t-shirt, tosses
the t-shirt into
the laundry basket,
and greets the rising sun
with a wink, a nod,
and a
daub of spit, aimed
accurately at
the wall behind
his bed. "bullseye,"
he says.
"sorry."
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in Citizens for Decent Literature, February 1, 2013. It also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014 and currently available from Amazon.)
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy is
sitting in his bedroom, on the edge
of his bed, his feet on the floor,
saying, kind of quietly, kind of
whispered, but kind of right outloud,
"sorry for the apple pie.
sorry for the cream puffs. sorry for
the cum stain on the rug. sorry for
the beer. sorry for the wine.
sorry for the whiskey."
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
has a full thick raging hardon,
and he is gently tugging on his
big thick dick, as he says,
"sorry for the toothbrush. sorry
for the amaretto cupcakes. sorry for
the D on the biology test. sorry
for the time i came in michael's
hair." the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
wriggles his toes into the fibers of his
nice thick rug, and he tugs on
his big hard dick some more,
and he says, "sorry for
the airplanes. sorry for
the war machines. sorry
for the dissolution of
hopes, dreams, and aspirations
of greatness."
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is tugging faster, he knows
he's about to cum, knows he's
about to go into electro-convulsive
spikes of shock as his cum goes
spurting out the peehole of
his big thick purple dickhead.
"sorry for the pentagrams on
the livingroom wall. sorry for
the watercress sandwiches. sorry for
the lion languishing in the
city zoo. sorry for the
pace of traffic, the sincerity
of useless desire." and at
this moment,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
starts spurting cum, and
it goes all over his sexy smooth
chest and flat taut belly
and dribbles into his
pubic hair and he stares
up at the ceiling and
pants and gasps with
the sheer electro-joy-jolt
of his extremely excellent
high-voltage orgasm and
then he says,
"sorry for the
pumpkin pie. sorry for the
turkey. sorry for the
methodology of
digestion. sorry for
the horsehair in the
dead old pillows."
then,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
stands up, wipes the cum off of himself
with an old t-shirt, tosses
the t-shirt into
the laundry basket,
and greets the rising sun
with a wink, a nod,
and a
daub of spit, aimed
accurately at
the wall behind
his bed. "bullseye,"
he says.
"sorry."
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in Citizens for Decent Literature, February 1, 2013. It also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014 and currently available from Amazon.)
green
cute boys who paint pictures with their dicks
are the bee's knees. cute boys who dip
the tips of their big dicks into paint,
and then paint pictures with their dicks,
are god's gift to the universe.
these cute boys work with big canvases,
mounted low on the easel.
their days are spent copious, surrounded
by beauty, enveloped in the scent
of their oily pubic hair.
sometimes these cute boys get so
excited while they are painting, their
dicks get so stiff, that their
hot freshly-spurted cum gets
mixed in with the paint on their
canvases, and dries there,
along with the paint. after
a day spent painting with
their dicks, the cute boys
who paint paintings with
their dicks settle into
a nice sudsy bath, and
try to get their hardworking
dicks clean, but, truth be
told, their dicks are
never really clean ever
again, but retain the
sheen, the tinge,
of rampant creativity.
as they get older,
these dyed-dick
boys never think of
themselves as tainted, or dirty,
but just, perhaps,
as gently used.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Be Kind to Strangers, published by BareBackPress in 2015.)
cute boys who paint pictures with their dicks
are the bee's knees. cute boys who dip
the tips of their big dicks into paint,
and then paint pictures with their dicks,
are god's gift to the universe.
these cute boys work with big canvases,
mounted low on the easel.
their days are spent copious, surrounded
by beauty, enveloped in the scent
of their oily pubic hair.
sometimes these cute boys get so
excited while they are painting, their
dicks get so stiff, that their
hot freshly-spurted cum gets
mixed in with the paint on their
canvases, and dries there,
along with the paint. after
a day spent painting with
their dicks, the cute boys
who paint paintings with
their dicks settle into
a nice sudsy bath, and
try to get their hardworking
dicks clean, but, truth be
told, their dicks are
never really clean ever
again, but retain the
sheen, the tinge,
of rampant creativity.
as they get older,
these dyed-dick
boys never think of
themselves as tainted, or dirty,
but just, perhaps,
as gently used.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Be Kind to Strangers, published by BareBackPress in 2015.)
Friday, February 28, 2020
and how are we feeling today?
sometimes brain-sparks just shoot out
and flash intermittently.
in fact, sometimes when
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is jerking off in his bedroom,
he sees things.
for instance,
people walk in, and then they walk out. today,
while the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is jerking off in his bedroom,
his vision of several gigantic bottles of beer
is interrupted by the sight of
sexy jamie bell walking on
in. jamie bell is very good-looking.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
has seen all of jamie bell's movies.
jamie bell is an actor, a very
sexy actor with great eyes
and a wry gentle grin.
now, in
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy's
bedroom,
jamie bell isn't wearing any clothes.
jamie bell moves to a position directly in
front of
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy,
and then,
jamie bell, too, starts jerking off.
they stand there staring at each
other, watching each other
tug on their own hot shiny dicks.
48 canaries began to sing.
a whole herd of houseflies goes
galloping across the ceiling.
"you know," says jamie bell to
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy,
"you're really quite a good-looking guy."
then, jamie bell starts spurting cum.
jamie bell's big gooey globs of cum
go all over the chest and belly
of the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy.
and then
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
starts spurting cum.
it goes all over the sexy naked chest
and belly
of jamie bell. jamie bell is very
good-natured about it all. he grins
his sexy wry crooked little gentle
jamie bell grin, and shrugs, in
his cutest kinda "ah shucks" style.
"ah well," says
jamie bell, as he fades into
the color of sun glow, and
the curtains in the room
spread to satin.
then,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
takes a long hot shower.
the reality of
soap suds
has never been more in dispute.
--Carl Miller Daniels
sometimes brain-sparks just shoot out
and flash intermittently.
in fact, sometimes when
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is jerking off in his bedroom,
he sees things.
for instance,
people walk in, and then they walk out. today,
while the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
is jerking off in his bedroom,
his vision of several gigantic bottles of beer
is interrupted by the sight of
sexy jamie bell walking on
in. jamie bell is very good-looking.
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
has seen all of jamie bell's movies.
jamie bell is an actor, a very
sexy actor with great eyes
and a wry gentle grin.
now, in
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy's
bedroom,
jamie bell isn't wearing any clothes.
jamie bell moves to a position directly in
front of
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy,
and then,
jamie bell, too, starts jerking off.
they stand there staring at each
other, watching each other
tug on their own hot shiny dicks.
48 canaries began to sing.
a whole herd of houseflies goes
galloping across the ceiling.
"you know," says jamie bell to
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy,
"you're really quite a good-looking guy."
then, jamie bell starts spurting cum.
jamie bell's big gooey globs of cum
go all over the chest and belly
of the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy.
and then
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
starts spurting cum.
it goes all over the sexy naked chest
and belly
of jamie bell. jamie bell is very
good-natured about it all. he grins
his sexy wry crooked little gentle
jamie bell grin, and shrugs, in
his cutest kinda "ah shucks" style.
"ah well," says
jamie bell, as he fades into
the color of sun glow, and
the curtains in the room
spread to satin.
then,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
takes a long hot shower.
the reality of
soap suds
has never been more in dispute.
--Carl Miller Daniels
Thursday, February 27, 2020
https://cmd2019.newtumbl.com/
But you won't be able to see everything on my newTumbl blog unless you have a newTumbl blog of your own. In general, you'll only be able to see the "G-rated" stuff, and not any of the "X-rated" stuff on my newTumbl blog, if you don't have your own newTumbl blog.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
taking credit for sunday
monsters rise up out of the ocean and attack
the land. then, as if thinking they have done
something good, they wait to be patted
on the head by sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys.
then, in addition, they roll onto their sides
and offer their assholes to be fucked
by the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys who
now have full raging hardons. what
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy, and in
that state of arousal, could resist
that kind of offer? and so,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
pat the monsters on the head
and fuck them up the ass. then,
they roll apart, these freshly-fucked
head-patted monsters and
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
who have just head-patted them and butt-fucked them,
and the monsters slink back into
the sea, once again, thinking they have done
something good. then the sexy naked big-dicked
teenage boys lie there alone on the sand,
staring up at the sky, worshipping faith and
hope, and craving the meaning of charity.
when the time arrives
for the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
to spurt another load of
cum, the
warning sirens go off and everyone
starts milling about. there is
high anxiety on the beach. nothing
seems certain. and it is
only the very lucky, who
bend over, wait, and
grab ahold of
their own ankles, as
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
roam about, making difficult,
though well-reasoned, choices.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in BareBack Magazine, the January 2014 issue.)
monsters rise up out of the ocean and attack
the land. then, as if thinking they have done
something good, they wait to be patted
on the head by sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys.
then, in addition, they roll onto their sides
and offer their assholes to be fucked
by the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys who
now have full raging hardons. what
sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy, and in
that state of arousal, could resist
that kind of offer? and so,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
pat the monsters on the head
and fuck them up the ass. then,
they roll apart, these freshly-fucked
head-patted monsters and
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
who have just head-patted them and butt-fucked them,
and the monsters slink back into
the sea, once again, thinking they have done
something good. then the sexy naked big-dicked
teenage boys lie there alone on the sand,
staring up at the sky, worshipping faith and
hope, and craving the meaning of charity.
when the time arrives
for the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
to spurt another load of
cum, the
warning sirens go off and everyone
starts milling about. there is
high anxiety on the beach. nothing
seems certain. and it is
only the very lucky, who
bend over, wait, and
grab ahold of
their own ankles, as
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
roam about, making difficult,
though well-reasoned, choices.
--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in BareBack Magazine, the January 2014 issue.)
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