Three randomly selected poems

prehistoric futures

it's a sultry summer afternoon,
and two sexy naked big-dicked teenage boys
are splashing around
in a secluded pond
in the woods.
they speak of
the ponderous nature of the
universe,
the dickhead the most
colorful, and perfectly purple, of
any perfect purples,
pliable fiestas, streams of
tangos, margarine
on the throat
of toast. one thing leads to
another. mutual masturbation
and nipple licking, the funny way
a robin looks at
you, right when you're
spurting all that hot gooey cum.
its eyes are beady, but friendly enough.
both boys agree,
robin eyes
the shape of
sylvan peaches wrist watches
on the mossy shore,
ticking but not
really water cress
nor hot six-inch
ruler.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2016)

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zebra seaweed

once upon a time, when
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
was lying on his back on a big smooth rock and
masturbating in the
middle of the forest,
he experienced an orgasm
that was so good, so intense, he
was sure it must have
been the best orgasm of
his life.
while his cum had been
spurting out of him,
he was one big surge
of electricity.
**
now, his cum freshly spurted,
the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy
smiled. a little tuft of moss,
green and wiry, was
pressing against
the tight little entance to
his asshole,
and, although he couldn't
see that little tuft
of moss, or his asshole, or
the hair around
his asshole,
he could sense
that the hair
around his asshole
and that the tuft of moss
were communicating,
asking each other questions,
perhaps, giving up
each other's secrets,
coiling and uncoiling
like little tentacles
writhing in the
citrus-scented
air.

--Carl Miller Daniels (2016)

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Jeremy Sumpter's Vaseline

Of course I don't know,
but when I fantasize about
cute sexy guys that I've never met
and probably never will, I picture Jeremy Sumpter
smearing a dab of vaseline on his
lips, then on his nipples,
then on his dick, then
on his tight pink little anus.
**
well, first it's just a dab of vaseline,
and then it's a LOT of vaseline,
he just goes kinda wild
gently smearing vaseline on
his chest,
his belly,
his butt,
his balls, plastering down the pubic
hair (he never shaves off any of
his pubic hair, he likes his pubic hair,
wiry and thick
and so soft it caresses his fingertips).
he applies vaseline thick and heavy
onto
his anus, and kind of rubs
a little on inside, too,
maybe a little deeper than
he means too
'cause he gets so turned
on by the feel of his finger
all the way inside his
asshole
that he spurts cum at
once, spurts sooner than he
means to,
but well,
it's such a nice trade-off,
a quick bunch of spurts, augumented
by that great feeling of
his vaseline-smeared finger inside
his vaseline-slimy asshole,

he's happy
contented
doesn't wash off the vaseline
right away though
lying on a smooth flat rock
in the forest
the sunlight on his
vaseline-shiny skin
his dick hard again
in no time
precum at its tip

and his nipples
so shiny they are
practically emitting the sunlight
that shines onto them
there in the forest
on the vaseline-smeared
rock upon which
he leaves a shiny vaseline
residue,
evidence of pleasure
evidence of beauty
so pretty it
gleams when he stands up
looks down
the vaseline print of himself
on that smooth gray rock

he stands there looking
down at the vaseline print
of himself on that rock
he stands there jerking off
and when he spurts cum
it lands on the vaseline print
of his vaseline-covered butt cheeks,
thick and slimy whitish cream
a little cum puddle
on the vaseline print of his butt
the rest of him
vaseline-printed there on that rock, too,
shoulders,
heels,
hairy calves
and backs of
smooth muscular thighs


that vaseline print
of himself not washing off until
the next rain
a soft gentle
rain,
sometimes he's there
watching it fade

oh yes he likes the forest
and that rock
and his great big tub
of warm friendly vaseline

--Carl Miller Daniels