love doodles for the sleepy and the creepy

[ftlaudft]

my Hawaiian prince

He wears a sarong,
but his dong is too long
and it sometimes sticks out in front.
I'd like to alert him,
but don't want to hurt him
by seeming to be too blunt.

The truth is a virtue
that sometimes can hurt you.
It's better perhaps to say naught.
So I won't divulge
that adorable bulge.
I'll just peek and hope not to get caught.

[ftlaudft]

nocturn..

In most of mainland Italy
they speak Italian prettily.
But when you get to Sicily
the natives speak it pissily.
Why do I care? Ya got me there!
I never travel anywhere.
But late at night alone at home
I dream of games in ancient Rome.
Of chariot races rough, vehicular,
Roman drivers, tough, testicular.
I dream a gladiator dude
who likes to wrestle in the nude.
We wrestle. It's my secret sin;
he gropes me and I let him win.
He wins because I help him cheat
and then he makes me lick his feet.
It's just a dream. But that's all right.
It keeps me happy thru the night.

[ftlaudft]

Hey, buddies! I hope I didn't offend any Sicilians out there. If I did, I'm truly sorry. Sicilians are lovely people and you don't want them mad at you. Sicilian is a separate language and certainly not merely another "pissy"' dialect of Italian. I stretch reality sometimes and get carried away with the heat of poetic passion, so some pretty goofy rhyme crimes get committed as a result! Amici again? Molto amore a tutti!

[ftlaudft]

I walked thru the sewers of Sodom,
one of many routine inspections,
to check it from top to bottom,
reporting unseemly erections.

I was gaily surprised when I first realized
dudes were dancing, hot lads without lasses.
The place was kept bright by the flashes of light
shooting out from the lads' happy asses.

The fragrance arose of pits, tits and toes,
with the sweetness of Old Bora Bora.
One who reeked of Old Spice, said "You think this is nice?
Just wait 'til you get to Gomorrah!''

O, the sewers of Sodom! Kinky dudes? Yes, they got 'em.
These dudes are so kinky, they're stinky.
Sucking toes, pits and penis, could it be, just between us,
you're a kinky dude, too? Winky! Winky!

[ftlaudft]

I had a fun time writing "the sewers of Sodom" because for some reason the place makes me think of my own Ft Lauderdale. I kept thinking about it, and guess what happened? Here's another.

the true story of Sodom - city or piano bar (your choice)

I'd like to set straight
some rumors of late
saying Sodom does not exist;
that the city of buggers
and pluggers and muggers
burned down when an angel got pissed.

The myth as reported
is grossly distorted.
The people were funsy and arty.
It's true, they were lewd
and they ran around nude,
'til their angel rained down on the party.

When the angel got bugged,
ACs were unplugged,
and the heat was a warning to men.
When tempers cooled down,
all the houses in town
got their ACs turned back on again.

The city today
is a great place to play,
for it offers exceptional service.
It caters to whimsy;
it coddles the flimsy,
the needy, the nude and the nervous.

There's a night train to Sodom.
Need tickets? We got 'em.
All barefooted dreamers ride free.
When you get to the city,
put a buck in the kitty -
and how 'bout a good word for me?

[ftlaudft]

the defiant one: a rebel song

I'm a toe-suckin' dude.
I eat toejam for food.
Put your feet in my face. I love it!
I go north; I go south
with bare feet in my mouth.
Yes, feet in my mouth! What of it?

[ftlaudft]

night ride thru the mountains...

I met a stranger on the train.
It was an odd event.
The story's old; seems half untold.
I ponder what it meant.

Alone in his compartment,
the handsome stranger there
props up his feet on facing seat.
Boots off, his feet are bare.

I enter the compartment,
extend a friendly greeting.
The scent I get of feet that sweat
faintly perfumes the meeting.

I sit beside his outstretched limbs.
My fingers idly fall
on ankle's form. The skin is warm
He makes no sound at all.

We reach the mountain's tunnel
and pierce the womb of night.
I feel the fire of strange desire
that burns beyond all light.

In deep and total darkness
I lift the stranger's toes
up to my face. I'm in that place
my secret passion knows.

I plant a kiss on his bare foot
in ecstasy supreme.
The moment flies thru unknown skies,
like an unearthly dream.

The stranger motionless remains.
The train moves toward the light.
The secret thrill that grips him still
has burned his soul tonight.

He leaves and turns to say goodby.
No words come to his lips.
But half with tears a smile appears
that time cannot eclipse.

In the big book of might-have-been's
all of these things must go.
What more could we - should we - have done?
Can anyone really know?

[ftlaudft]

I should add that the above bit of whimsy is total fiction. But it's a fiction based on true friction!

Think back, fellas. Is there anyone here who has NOT been on a Greyhound bus, a train, a plane, an oxcart, a dunebuggy, sitting next to a handsome traveler, and then something happened. Your knees, your elbows, your feet casually did a bump and a grind and what happened next is still a memory that makes you smile.

The above footsie felicity is an account of how I experienced it. It's fiction based on friction!

Heidi-ho! Have you read my new fiction?
It's based on my personal friction.
All schemers and dreamers
and nocturnal creamers
will see it's a true-life depiction!

[ftlaudft]

waters of daring...

Wash your feet in the waters of daring.
Hang them out of the window to dry.
I will suck on your toes 'til your dickwhistle blows.
Don't ask! I'm just that kinda guy!

[ftlaudft]

People may not realize how sentimental I am. Indeed, I may be one of the last romantics.

Remembering the anniversary of my one true love (whoever he was) ...

New loves may come and the old ones pass.
Still I think of you once each year.
I stick a banana up my ass
and swing from the chandelier!