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am i ee Sep 2015
quite stealthily,
the big fat yellow bootay
cruised
by the very intent,
young brave lad
so carefully
sharpening
his
blades,

oh,
so,
quietly.

oh,
so,
slowly....

a skill she had
perfected these many months
on the run.

and what fun months
they were.

she slid by
oh.
so,
very,
silently,

then a nice
distance away
she turned
her big fat yellow bootay
around.

and.......
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 705
Thanks to a Book
am i ee Sep 2015
"it’s time to go
to bed NOW,
right NOW
right this second,
or you are going to get a spanking."

bubbling up with
happy glee
the stumpy little
legs ran
and danced
around
ignorning this stern
sound booming,
this stern
sound looming.

"get upstairs,
NOW,
get into bed,
i’ll be up
in a minute,
to give you
that spanking."

Uh oh!
her fat little
squishy three-year-old
legs
carried her up
as she ran up
the stairs.

heart beating
fast with fear
of impending doom.

coming into the room
she looked about
desperately,
spying a book,
into her bed
she took.

shoving that book
inside her jammy
bottoms,
and covered her bare
little ***
but,
good.

lying there waiting,
with
layers of
help
so thickly,
so comfortingly,
spread in between,
that big hand,
and her little ***
filled with dread.

The little one,
so happy
just moments ago,
not so happy
now,
just lying there
waiting.
filling with
looming fear.


oh what a life,
an eternal seesaw
of happy and sad
mad and glee.

book and
pajama bottoms,
sheet,
and blanket.

he’ll never see,
that book that’s,
a covering me.

waiting with dread,
the minutes ticking
in the dark,
ever so slowly,
an  eternity.

the huge giant
finally came up,
big shoes,
booming each
step of the way.

he
gave a good swat,
then out
he went,
closing the door,
shaking a finger
and saying,
“i don’t want to hear any more."

giggled
did she,
and thougth to
herself,
i didn’t even
feel that
and he didn’t,
even know.

hee hee hee..

pulling that book
away from her
be-hinny,
she stretched
out on her back
so comfortably,
so calmly,
and very
peacefully.

so happy
was she,
with her,
Oh So Smart
3-year-old
little self.
Sep 2015 · 1.1k
Black-tipped puppy tail
am i ee Sep 2015
Puppy tail, tipped in black,
dipped it in clear creek.
my puppyhead has a black tipped tail & ears.
Sep 2015 · 2.3k
beep beep
am i ee Sep 2015
beep beep go the cars
beep beep go the SUVs
beep beep go the trash trucks
beep beep go the busses
beepeeeee beepeeeee go the fire engines
beepeeeee beepeeeee go the ambulances

beep beep go the shovelers
beep beep go the snow trucks
beep beep go the Fed Ex guys & UPS ers

beep beep go the watches
beep beep go the alarms
beep beep go the microwave ovens
beep beep go the washers & dyers

beep beep go the beepers
that are driving me beep beeping insane

beep beep

beep beep goes the Road Runner
but that one does not
drive me beep beeping insane!

beep! beep!

beep! beep!

beep! beep!

beep! beep!

Okay, now, really,
you have driven me beep beeping insane.
and the ear plugs aren't a workin' fer me.....
help i need somebody, help, not just any body.. help...won't you please help me.....  please....
am i ee Sep 2015
dear kind reader,

humor is a very personal,
a very individual thing,
so,
i beg your pardon,
i never promised you a rose garden,

if the parlance of the street,
offends your nature so sweet,

i beg your pardon,
i never promised you a rose garden.

but this much i will confess,
funny i find much of this mess.

and i'd rather go to my grave,
with hearty laughter,
milk spilling laughter,
screaming ' yer killin' me!"
than any other way!
am i ee Sep 2015
the new shirt arrived in the mail today.

compliments of the United States Postal Service,
and i thank yew fer the speedy service.

thirty four dollars.
and i wonder...

should that have been better spent,
on
martinis for three?
food for the poor?
money for retirement?
sent to Nepal?
food for the dogs?
hard working aspiring slumdog millionaire?

the package
lies unopened....
am i ee Sep 2015
the big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay
was racing along
the country,
shore to shore,
sea to shining sea,
gulping in every sight.

as she flew through the west,
she caught sight
of a handsome young brave
sitting not far off the
side of the
road,
sharpening the blade of
one mother,
of one huge mother,
of a huge mother ******' knife.

and she thought she caught sight of
another huge shiny blade.

silhouetted against the backdrop
the light blue cotton sheets
gently swaying in the warm wind
on this sunny day,
filling them with fresh sweet
scent of fresh
sun dried air.

he intently focused
on the blade,
holding it up to the sky and
slowly,
very slowly,
drawing his thumb over
the edge
over and over,
'gettin' there'
'gettin' there'
he must be thinkin'
she was a thinkin'.

speeding along,
she glanced quick right,
and thanked the good lord
she was born without a head.

nor any tufts of fine locks on
her big fat yellow bootay.

for she had no hankering’
to be gittin’ no scalpin’.

better leave those up
to those oh so annoying
two-legged humans.

note to self,
she did make,
one to herself,
that if ever she passed this way
agin’.
she would give this
fellow one wide berth.
as he’s a lookin’
like a fellow
she didn’t want,
with to be,
messin'.

YET...
thought she.....

meanwhile, way over yonder
the manly cowboy
felt a chill grow,
shivers crept up his spine,
just as he felt a cool breeze
caress his scalp.

'hmmm that brave lad
can’t still be a ponderin’
if’n he’s awantin’ to be scalpin’ me?
he can’t!
can he?'

'nah!'
thought the manly cowboy,
pulling his wide-brimmed hat
ever so firmly down on his head.
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
am i ee Sep 2015
now a gal on the run
needs a little scratch
to live on
so
she quick pecked out a book
with a perky little ditty.

one that could be sung
one that would run
over and over
in your head.

sales took off
quite briskly
soon her tune could
be heard along every
school corridor.

kids of all ages
chanted and screamed
walking or riding
her very own call....

Hey!
You!
Yeaaahhh
you!
i say
you big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay
you’re in my way

i say
go on now
get outta my way.

get outta my way.
you big fat bus
with your  big fat yellow  bootay
get outta my way
big bootay
outta my way!
yellow bootay!
hey
hey
hey


now this refrain
quickly got old
for all the drivers
of the big fat busses
with the big fat yellow bootays.

it wasn’t long before
they were on the warpath
pitch forks and shovels
tire irons and more.

these enraged drivers
were out for blood
and broken bone,
which in her case
certainly meant
dripping oil,
broken glass and
twisted metal.

Some days she cried
why, oh, why,
did i ever
write that?

Other days
she didn’t give a hoot
not a single second
stinkin' thought.

but she still skirted
the cities and towns
right before
and right after
school was in session.


the money flowed in
and rather than gin,
she stopped for a sip
of high test
premium
fuel.

no margaritas
for this little senorita
with the Big Fat Yellow Bootay.

some afternoons late,
she would  just set
a spell and wait,
sip that ole
high test,
watching the sun slide
below the horizon,
colors galore,
a magnificent painting,
different each
and
every
night.

still on the run
but having loads of fun,
she kept a keen eye out
for the man with the badge
and the gun.

reports abounded
about a bus that had
disappeared
one that had
absconded.

now no one thought
it could possibly
be,
only she,
all on her own.
so the lookout
was for some thief
to be caught.
a thief of the kind
with two hands
two wrists
and ten fingers.

hiding out
during the day
she would slip away
come the passin' of
the sun
most times.

rolling along
one
afternoon
between fields so wide,
she pulled in
by a shrub
and found a motorcycle
waiting.

"my pig’s gone
to take a leak.”
said the little motorcycle,
nodding to the trees
not far away.

(aside: the little motorcyle
referred to his pig in only the most
affectionate way.  
which brings one to
wonder, from where did it arise
why is another word
synomous with cop,
pig?

pigs are so cute,
darling and sweet
and very intelligent.  
makes no sense to me
when you are a looking
to be insulting,
to be calling a cop
a pig.)

she glanced on over
at the copse of trees
and set herself
in reverse gear.
"i owe you one
new little friend”
said she,
and as she rolled back onto
the road,
she gently did pat him
on his tight firm little  
motorcycle
bootay!


"It’s a good day to die!”
she cried
as she sped off,
"not to mention
drive!"

and it was,
one fine day to drive!
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 507
Green Squatter
am i ee Sep 2015
Beautiful green fern,
you took up residence
in the empty planter
out back.

Coming up each spring,
Growing bigger each summer.

Don’t go yet...
Don’t die for the winter!

i am enjoying your lush green
company every day,
too much to be told.

Soothing balm to my eye,
Soothing balm to my soul.
am i ee Sep 2015
hey you!

yeah you!

i’m talking to you!

i’m a big fat bus
with
A!
BIG!
FAT!
BEAUTIFUL!
YELLOW!
BOOTAY!

i say,

NOW!
YOU!

Yeah you!
YOU get outta MY way!

go on now
get outta my way

hey hey hey
get outta my way
way of my 
big fat,
fat big ,
beautiful yellow bootay

hey hey hey!
BIG FAT YELLOW BOOTAY!

hey hey hey

fat bootay

I say
Outta my way!
hey hey hey
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
am i ee Sep 2015
the big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay
soon
began to see
steam billowing
out
from under her
big fat yellow hood.

so trembling,
and idling rough
she pulled into the first stop,
a rough-looking roadhouse
to set a while and cool off.

sidling up next to
a brand new big shiny
new tour bus,
she
rather pleased,
for he,
was a
sweet lookin',
and kinda handsome lookin',
kinda thing,
till he opened his mouth.

reminded immediately
of an old song,
her enamor
did not last long.

"when i need something to help me unwind
i find a six foot baby with a one track mind.
smart guys are nowhere
they make demands
just give me a *****
with talented hands.
i go bar hopping
and they say last call.
i start shopping for a
neaderthal.
i like em big and stupid
i like em big and real dumb.”

ah that Julie Brown…
there’s a girl who knows how to belt ‘em out!

she cast a furtive glance
at Mr. Oh SO Brand New Bus  
the big galoop,
waiting for his load,
when out of that rough
roadhouse spilled,
THE drunkest,
MOST obnoxious,
herd of redneck cowboys,
she had ever seen
or would care to ever
see again.

hootin' and hollerin'
shootin' off their guns,
just narrowly missing
her big fat yellow face.

a shovin' and a punchin'
blood flying here and there,
sounds of a cracking
bone or two.

shaking her bumper gently
from side to side,
quietly eased she,
her way
back on to the throughway.
and off she shot!
into the night!

pedal to the metal!
like a bat out of hell!

another
romantic fantasy disaster
narrowly
averted!
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 683
hi ho silver
am i ee Sep 2015
the dark hero
from
the deep south

rode up to the
sea shore
stopped
hopped off

and
cried out,
"Hi ** Silver"

jumped back
on
and he
rode away.
to the little silver bike!
am i ee Sep 2015
the question of God's existence
finally put to rest.

or was it?

the big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
turned her thoughts
to other existential
mysteries.

many a book
had been left behind
over the years
as students got off the bus,
so the big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay
had plenty of books
to read on her long days
cruising up,
and down,
and around,
the highways.
a veritable library indeed.

one  book
particularly caught
her attention
as its cover
was a lovely
shade of yellow
and black.

i say,
hmmm,
that title
needs editing.

i am that,
now
became
I AM THAT FAT

content,
she put down
the yellow book,
and gazed off
into the emptiness.
* or Lesser if you know the difference
for Nisarga... he's the man!

and if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 856
Flirting with Death
am i ee Sep 2015
standing next to
the darling
short fluffy old lady
sporting loose curls of grey,
a halo surrounding her head.

on an ordinary  
sidewalk
the kind that can
be found
any time
anywhere
any town.


stood a tall dark stranger
a mysterious figure
cloaked in flowing
dark robes
head covered
identity
disguised.

the dark stranger
stood calmly
carrying a
long metal
blade.

the cute little old
lady clutching
her bag
an old handbag
she had had for years.


she turned to this
tall dark robed lad,

and said.

”nice hoodie!”

but you see
that was no ordinary
stranger you find
on the street.

for that
as the grim reaper
standing next to
this granny
so sweet
& sunny.
inspired by a comic...thank you little comic & its artist.
Sep 2015 · 341
little ears, big questions
am i ee Sep 2015
the small lad
came into the house,

inquired innocently,

" Mommy, who's jesusfuckingchrist?"

little ears, big questions.

mommy gazes out the window
at the pair of boots
lying under the car,

and sighs.
am i ee Sep 2015
high test premium fuel
keeps me rolling along
smooth & fast & FAT.
in 665 haiku
am i ee Sep 2015
racing through the night
fast as light,
toward the great unknown,
the little acorn nut was
reminded of the old adage,
"hang on to your hat"
and so she did.


first stop was to the factory
where well crafted &
educated hands
stroked her smooth grain
& magnificent wood,
so long hidden,
standing so long un-admired.

at last the day came,
she was loaded upon the truck,
so very carefully,
gentle to not mar
nor bump,
as she was moved.

reaching the city,
all the brights lights,
the city trees dotted
the avenues
and huge grand park,
spurning the excited hi's
of this little country
bumpkin.

but she would not dally,
nor carry on, with
the highend bookcases,
chairs, tables and others,
living floor after floor
above the city.
those in the penthouses
holding the works and books,
those rubbing shoulders  
and bums,
with the highfalutin
literary few.
the poets & artists & writers
that deign to look down on
poor you.

every night,
under the light,
she laid there beaming,
her beauty so deep
for all to see,
gleaming.

no diva, nor screeching ingenue,
puffed up egotisical  baffoon,
or shrew,
could bring her down.
for she knew,
that without her,
there could be no show.
for without her,
in all her floor glory,
there simply
would be
no stage!

and the little acorn nut
was glad!
The life of the Little Acorn Nut continues.  See previous piece for background history.
am i ee Sep 2015
Fatty fatty
standin' in the yard,
Put down that leaf blower
and start burnin' some lard.

pick up that rake!
clean that grass!
don’t be growin' yourself
no big fat ***!

skinny skinny
standin' on the lawn,
Put down that leaf blower
and start buildin' some brawn.

pick up that rake!
clean that grass!
get to workin’ your
skinny little ***!
am i ee Sep 2015
out on the road,
driving right along,
comin' to a stop,
at the head of the line,
right at the light.

i look up,
and what do i see,
but a
Big Fat Yellow face
starin' back at me.

taken aback,
reminds me,
you see,
of one
big fat bus
with a big fat yellow bootay,
only just slightly differently.

i start lookin' around
and what do i see
but a whole
bunch
of big fat yellow faces
starin' back at me.

studyin'  big fat yellow face
of bus number
eight five nine,
i begin see a difference
or two.

Some big fat yellow faces
are flat,
hardly a nose
on 'em.

Some big fat yellow faces
have quite the
shnoz on 'em,
wouldn't Jimmy Durante
be oh, so, proud.

quite an education
in just the cycle of
only one light.

it turns green,
to left i turn.

one big fat yellow face
one big fat yellow bootay

two big fat yellow faces
two big fat yellow bootays

three big fat yellow faces
three big fat yellow bootays

four big fat yellow faces
four big fat yellow bootays.

racing by so quick,
lickety split.

so how do i know,
know for sure,
that God really exists,
and even more,
that she really loves me?

if there were no God
and if she didn't love me,
i'd be starin' at all these
big fat yellow bootays
through the
front of the windshield,

instead of seeing 'em
flying into the distance
when take i a quick glance
into my REAR view mirror!

i do love the look,
of a,
Big Fat Yellow Bootay
starin' at me
from my rear view mirror,
in the mornin'!

hey, hey, hey,
just another fine day!
whadda say!
am i ee Sep 2015
... moving along from Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay - (as the title)

She skidded
up SO close,
to that big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay
that was in her way,
that no more than
the width of
a hair
stood between
em.

Long rubber tracks
and patches painting the
road.
Her tires worn thin,
she started to grin.

This big fat bus
with his big fat yellow bootay
was heard to say,

"Whoa,
slow down there little
darlin’.
What’s the big rush?
You almost crashed
into me.

And that quite possibly,
most entirely possibly,
could have,
led to
the end,
for both me,
and for you.

And by the way,
exactly where are
you supposed
to be now?

What are you doing
up in this part of town?"

Oops!
Wrong big fat bus
to be running
into.

She mumbled
her sorries,
threw herself
into reverse,
and high-tailed it
out of there
right quickity quick!

her heart was a beatin',
her heart was a poundin’,
THIS was living!
THIS is what it
felt like
to be
ALIVE!
Really alive!
and not driving along at
STINKIN'  25!
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
am i ee Sep 2015
Hey you!

Yeah

YOU!

i say,
somebody out there
likes my Big Fat Yellow Bootay!

and here
is what
they
say,

"Oh, the big fat bus
with big fat yellow bootay
always makes my day."

hey,
hey,
hey!

i say!

have yourself,
one
fine
Day!

big bootay!
one fine day!
hey, hey, hey....

...The Big Fat Yellow Bootay gives a wave of thanks
and gits going on her way....
i say!  the wave of thanks goes out to Joseph Red Hawk for sending me my very first fan mail!  ~ yours truly, The Big Fat Yellow Bootay

and if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 567
Big Fat Yellow Bootay Haiku
am i ee Sep 2015
The big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
say, today, i think i shall simply drive.
the Big Fat Bus doesn't truck much with poetry, doesn't have a clue about haiku, so don't be too ******* her... she might just go look it up.
am i ee Sep 2015
tiny twirling yellow leaf
suspended in mid-air,

you bring me down
from
my tirade
about the all the ******* light
from the
neighborhood
houses.

when did so many
become so scared?
or just want to show off
the house
with stupid
landscape lighting?

leaving it on,
all night,
and all day.

3 deer stand up and leap off,
disturbed by our tromping,
bringing a smile to the eye.

walking along,
eyes cast down,
head looks up,
to find a still,
little deer,
looking back.

magical and sweet
chills rise up spine
and heart swells with
wonder.

just for a moment,
no artificial glare.
Begging your pardon to any who do not care for the parlance of the street.
Sep 2015 · 284
Spout of Creativity
am i ee Sep 2015
ain't it kinda
funny,
how once you curtail
all yer drinkin',

'n stop puttin' out,
so much creativity
doth spout!
brahmacharya, conservation of vital energy, chi, prana, life force
(post - thanks to your encouraging pieces Ja)
Sep 2015 · 606
Cute Toot!
am i ee Sep 2015
“I TOOTED!”
exclaimed,
the little blonde-mop
headed of a lad.
so very proudly,
and
rather quite loudly,

Said with such glee
3-year-old eyes,
open so wide,
open,
and sparkling,
and open,
and,
so wise.

After
remarking
Hmmm, Is that so?
with a growing,
little,
smile.

This did
completely change
my mentality.

Such a cute,
toot,
it
was.

One real cuuuute toooot!
for a darling little fellow in my life for too brief a span.
Sep 2015 · 5.6k
desert snake
am i ee Sep 2015
rattlesnake
living in the hot desert
night falls
cool walls

slithers to black asphalt
still hot and warm
from the day in the sun.
am i ee Sep 2015
The manly cowboy
continued his travels
across the land,
of merry ole England,
drinking a little mead,
riding his steed.

Walking along one day
beside his horse,
says to his horse,
a question this way,
says he.

"What's your name?"

"Randall." she replied.
for his steed was a she.

"WHAT did you say?
What the hell kinda name is that?"

"And please pardon me for my language,
your answer took me by surprise."

"For your information kind sir,
i am highly educated
and well brought up.

what did you expect?
some silly name
like Bay
or Susie?
or ,
if i hailed from
your part of the world,
Cochise
or Blaze
or Cimmaron?

Oh no, i know,
you might
have very well
named me
General
Blueberry."

Scratching his head,
the manly cowboy
just looked askew,
completely anew,
at this fine steed.

Randall!

Off they trode,
adventures to be made,
fast becoming fine friends,
as they were
running the roads to the ends.

Many a new sight did they see,
then one day they happened upon
Queen E.

"That's one fine looking six shooter
you have there."
said the great ruler with
the neatly coiffed gray hair.

"May I?"  asked she,
her royal hand outstretched.

Happy to oblige,
this woman who
has ruled so long,
seen so much.

Handing her his gun,
so carefully,
he inquired,

"Do you know how one of these things works Ma'm?"
asked he
"Don't be so silly
you manly cowboy.
Of course! "
said she,

With that,
she turned
and shot
every chamber bare,
six apples from
the tops of six heads
of her many heirs.

"Here, come join us."
said she,
"We're out for a ride
to look at the tide."

So the manly cowboy
threw in with the royal
mob for the day.

Riding far and wide
treated to vast
expanses and views,
and the eternal tide.

Having so much fun
shooting and riding,
out in the fresh air,
out in the sun.

At last evening approached
too fast and suddenly.
"What a day i have had,
one to always remember,
to recount over fires
many a coming night."

With that,
he took his leave,
tipped his hat,
and bowed to Queen E
so gentlemanly.
A collection, The Manly Cowboy, exists now for your reading ease. : )
am i ee Sep 2015
the manly cowboy
settled in for the night,
after a long day of
pure athletic delight.

delivered the mail
did they,
deliciously slow
as any snail
on the go.

he opened
and read,
that a young brave was
a looking for his head.

so he got to thinking,
i'd better still wander,
way over yonder,
way over here,
so 'n he can a ponder,
ifn'  he is still awantin'
to be,
scalpin' me?

never one to hurry,
why ever  scurry?
the brave young lad,
or young lad brave,
he,
couldn't possibly be that bad!

i'll give him some time,
and not start to whine.
(and most certainly not in rhyme)
we can find,
i  am sure,
just the right cure.
thought the manly cowboy,
think did he.

many a mate,
but never as a date,
he did spend
with many a good friend.

not that he minded,
nor cared, where love was a finded.
nor with who,
nor whom,
that's entirely up to you,
before you are laid to rest in your tomb.

out in the wild,
did he spend,
many a night and day
and not a one,
did go astray.

always polite.
nary a fight.
i'll give this good brave guy
a little time to go by,
just a little to fly.

he will be a findin'
i don't be a mindin'
differences in thoughts
differences in gots.

i might be having a few
but i shall say to you,
'Hey buddy
what do you say?
think we can be friends
one day?'

with that optimistic thought
in mind
he turned to his bed roll,
rolling out in a straight line,
lookin' to find,
only,
a peaceful night's sleep
never hearing a peep.

and a brand new day,
coming up his way.
always curious to see,
ever unfolding,
however they been molded,
life's great mysteries.

with that,
he tipped his hat
over his eyes,
so very gentlemanly.
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
am i ee Sep 2015
bathed in the cool light of the moon,
my sweet puppyhead and me,

sit.

under the full soft light, 
her ray’s illuminating the yard,
the woods.

footsteps crunch drying leaves,
fox, deer or foe?

waning canopy,
boughs lighter each day.

fall, majestic, peaceful
dying for another year.

plants and creatures, 
taking refuge in the deep dark void
of mother earth,
of mother nature.

squirreling away tidbits for a late winter snack,
coats blooming, thickening.

such delight, 
each night,
sitting outside,
my puppyhead and me.

quiet and solitary,
no humans 
annoying me.

silent and still
only nocturnal creatures
meandering about.

what magic,
what sacredness.
what mystical delight.
never apart,
only the ONE.

such silly confusion,
thinking a person,
separate and small,
quaking with fear.

the big deep dark mystery
laughing and jovial,
always here,
here for us all.

open your eyes, 
feel your nature,
always here,
never apart.

fearing death
fearing life,
what a silly way to live this
life!

the moment you were born,
you began dying,
what a relief,
knowing the score!

relaxing into the madness,
laughing at it all,
pure and free,
forever more, 
and not……

being,
not being,
eons of reflection,
sages and rishis
revealing the truth,
it can’t be done for you,
only you can become 
that which you are….
that which you always were.

my sweet love, my sweet life,
my puppyhead and me,
sitting here in Fall.
~~~
in Tao, in the One, her darkenss, her mystery
am i ee Sep 2015
"i ain't got no fat bootay.
i am just a little husky."
she said to me.
that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

"i'm a thinkin'
i'm gittin' REAL tired
of all your verse."
said she.

"you should live the life i do.
yes you should.
just for one day.
grubby little kids kicking the back of my seats,
hanging out the windows
screaming so loud.

"crying and punching
throwing each other's gear.
boxing an ear.

"picking and fightin'
and bullying every year.
wet boots and sand
poking me in the tummy
with their little stupid umbrellas.
wiping snot on my clean seats.

those high schoolers
smoking in back,
tobacco and joints
and drinking & stuff
thinking i don't know it.

well the he-ing and she-ing,
on trips, to games and more,
i won't go into here.
what do they think i am?
a rolling motel
hotel
super 6?

it's enough to drive me right
out of my mind here.

"i used to be shiny and bright and new,
and i was so happy
to finally get out on the town.
then i realized for what i was made
year after year,
driving around,
the very same trip
all over town.
more than enough
to drive anyone insane.

"if i had wrists,
i assure you i'd slit em',
for you can never imagine,
what is it like,
to be me."
says that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

okay so now... i'm starting to feel
just a little bad,
all the mad verse
i hurled
at her
all of those days.

so i say,
to that big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
"why wait around?
set yourself free,
before you end up in the big fat bus
cemetery!

now in some other time,
in some other life,
i start to see,
i could see ,
the possibility,
of what good friends
we could have been.

i would have waxed her
well, brightened her up
shined up the grill
made those white walls sparkle.

i coulda detailed her
inside and out.
checked her oil
and tweaked those points
making sure those
spark plugs would light.

rotated her tires and
lubed all her joints.
windexed her glass
front, side and back.

so now
still feeling a little bad
i say,
to that big little-husky bus
with the big little-husky yellow bootay,
"go single,
go solo,
but GO NOW!"

taking my advice to heart,
that big fat bus,
with her big fat yellow bootay,

she discharged that last child,
and driver so worn,
and bided her time,
till well after dark.

she took a quick,
furtive look around,
stealthily rolled  
out of the yard.

once a safe distance away,
set her engine in gear,
and got right the hell
out of here.
right away.

flying down the open roads,
careening around every
sharp curve,
every bend.
tipped on her side,
tires right up off the ground.

shrieking like a madwoman

"it's a good day to die!
i'm finally free!"

"It's a good day to die! mother f-ers" she cried
as she sped down the road.

until,

HEY?
HEEEEYYY?
What's THAT in my way?

OH NO!
it's a BIG FAT BUS !
with a BIG FAT YELLOW BOOTAY!
and it's in MY WAY!

...brakes stomped through the floor with all her might,
smoking tires and squealing rubber, and skidding down the highway,
way out of control...

more to come ...Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Big Fat Yellow Bootay has made 2 previous appearances here.

if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 704
Manly Cowboy in England
am i ee Sep 2015
Manly cowboy,
wherefore dost thou art come?

Dashing in you come,
to village so small,
riding your steed,
quaffing back the mead.

Six gun shooter
at your slim hip,
gallantly giving to every young maid,
your hat, a slight dip.

Tall and manly,
maidens do swoon.
you most certainly not,
the typical cowboy goon.

Wild and western,
visions so free,
hailing from spaces,
so large and so rare.

Buffalos and bears,
never muss your hair.
Ever, so debonair.

Roaming foreign
countryside,
taking time to hear
a tale from a guide.

Your horse is awaitin',
so don't be a takin',
too much time,
writing silly ole rhyme.
Tales of a Manly Cowboy - more to come.

if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 229
morning still
am i ee Sep 2015
cool morning
sitting still.

insects speak
owl hoots.
am i ee Sep 2015
hey you!
yeah yous!
all of yous!

you big fat busses
with your big fat yellow bootays!
what a day!

in the lots you sits,
way off the roads,
giving me happy fits!
rows of rows,
of yellow bootays,
lined up straight,
big and fat,
and outta my way!

i say!
this is sure ONE
fine Sun-un-day!

with YOU,
and all YOUR,
big FAT yellow bootay's
outta my way!

hey!
i say!
why can't it be like this
every day?

you big fat busses,
with your big fat yellow bootays!
i shore like it!
when you are,
outta my way!

i say
outta my way!
you big fat busses
you and your big fat yellow bootays!
outta my way!
yellow bootay!
outta my way!
hey! hey!
hey!
such a fine day!
ah... driving bliss

if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 1.6k
Little acorn nut
am i ee Sep 2015
the little tree
took root from
an acorn nut.

the years passed,
she watched the loggers
come and go.

taking her friends
and family off
on the big beds
of the timber trucks.

year after year,
season after season,
there she stood,
winter, fall, spring, and summer,
one slow grow.

first she was short,
barely a spurt,
then she branched out,
and up and up and up.

the trees stood
all around her,
so serious,
oh so silent company.

however,
never a mean word nor
loud shout was ever heard.

never any other music
but for that of the birds,
and the wind and the sun
and
the creatures walking the
woodland floor,
those traveling through to
far distant exotic lands.

at least she never heard
“girl, you are some fat tree.”
or was the target of any joke,
“when you sit around the house,
you sit AROUND the house.”

nor any
“you gotta do something with them leaves,
they are looking like a rat’s nest.
Oh i see, it IS a squirrel’s nest.”

or for a stray bump or large hideous growth
no one ever said,
“you better go get that removed,
that's one ugly lump!"

years and years passed,
her soul inside,
couldn’t be heard,
not a word.

then one day,
the fellows came through,
looking and measuring,
measuring and looking,
out came the chainsaw.

eyes alighting on she,
on all of her
tall, majestic beauty.
with swift, quick work
she fell,
down,
to the earth.

loaded on the flatbed,
chains wrapped securely around,
engine roared to life,
and she took off,
racing into the darkening night.

she knew tears did fall
as forests thinned
and were laid bare,
but all she could think,
all she could say,
was
“so long suckers!
i’ll see you on broadway one day!”

and so it became true,
her dream of yore,
it was finally in,
Radio City Music Hall,
she landed as the floor.

night after night
to her lasting delight
tap dancers tapped
making her sing
bringing out the music
in she
so previously
imprisoned inside,
for so long.

sanded and polished
varnished and cleaned,
her secret inner beauty
finally brought to life,
finally brought into the light.

she beamed and sighed,
every time a new star
stepped on to her,
to her extreme delight.

any day or night,
when every eye of
the house,
every one of the audience
was riveted on she.

oh what a thrill
when the Radio City Rockettes
did finally come out,
for only for she
could they dance
so straight,
so evenly.

Sometimes i look
at the woods laid bare.
my heart drops low
so sad i feel,
a tear spills out.

then i recall,
the tale of this tree,
the little acorn nut,
how a trip to
a city,
made her so
lastingly
happy &
so  very
pretty!
Sep 2015 · 236
Prognostication
am i ee Sep 2015
prognostication
trognostication
snogmosstignation
flogtrosticatio­n

i don’t know what
prognostication means
so i thought i’d
take a little time
and make a rhyme.
seeking out Mr. Dictionary...i do now.
Sep 2015 · 959
Mo Big Fat Yellow Bootay
am i ee Sep 2015
Hey!
you!
yeah you!
you big fat bus!
with your big fat yellow bootay!

i'm just trying to get to the park,
when out of the dark,
of the trees,
there you be.

Four
FOUR
FOUR stops in four steps
no more
i swear.

sitting in my car
the minutes of my life
little grains of sand
sifting away.

little feet
and little legs
can you possibly
move any slower
across that street?

heavy with packs.
when did kids start
carryin' full backpacks
for a day a school?

where is that school?
top of Mt Everest?

Hurry up!

GET ON that bus!
get on that big fat bus!
with the big fat yellow bootay!

mama and papa
and gramps and grandma and all
kiss and hug you
like you are really setting off to sea.

gimme a break they'll be back at three!

i say,
now go on,
go on now,
GET ON that bus,
that big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay!

and *** your big fat yellow bootay
OUTTA MY WAY!

i say,
hey,
go on now,
get outta my way.

fat bootay
outta my way...
hey hey hey
get outta my way
you big bootay.
you big fat bus
with your big fat yellow bootay.
special request - fast poem for Joseph Red Hawk!  what do you say?

if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
am i ee Sep 2015
The manly cowboy put back his hat,
closed the door,
and so manly,
walked away.

Down the path he trod,
avoiding all the rolling rod.

Upon he came
to three little young lasses,

crouching over
looking silently intent,
little sticks in their hands.

There lay a little
grey mole*
dead to the world.

Stiff as tree
eyes no longer to see.

“Good day ladies”
said he,
the manly cowboy,
tipping his hat
so very gentlemanly.

“what’s  that i see you a pokin’?”

‘Only a dead mouse.”
said the three.

“Why don’t you move
the little guy,
over a little there,
over a little that way.

"slowly with your sticks.
gentle as tongs.

"cover him sweetly
with a blanket
of wild flowers.

"and leave him
lying there so lovingly."

i give you this advice
be nice to the mice,

instead of poking death
death in the head
so innocently
but
so disrespectfully.”

Then tipping his hat,
he was gone.
*or vole?

if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 387
Ant Farm & others
am i ee Sep 2015
i'd rather live one day free,
than a lifetime,
behind glass,
a lifetime,
behind bar.

caged and pacing,
while the world stares on.
freedom taken.
wild nature's wings
grounded.

roaming and racing,
the wind in my face,
the wind at my back.
covering ground,
high and low,
near and far,
wide open spaces.

tiny or large,
majestic warm-blooded creature,
or insect so small,
all,
free at large.

i rather live one day free,
than a lifetime,
behind glass,
a lifetime,
behind bar.
Sep 2015 · 190
Arrival Departure
am i ee Sep 2015
Arriving in this world,
naked and alone.

Departing the world,
naked and alone.

and all the time
in between,
naked
alone
and quietly free.
Sep 2015 · 288
Night's Cool Air
am i ee Sep 2015
Cool night air wafts in
through open door.
Delicately caressing  skin.
Filling  lungs with
peace so fresh,
ears with such
silence deep.
243 AM
Sep 2015 · 342
little ant playing dead
am i ee Sep 2015
little black dot lying on the counter,
playing dead.

you can’t fool me,
i saw you moving around.

i’m  still feeling guilty for
killing your family,
and all your good fine friends.

did you happen to see
the one i took outside?
the one i set free?

averting my eye,
i’ll leave you alone little guy,
wander away.

now you stay out of the kitchen.
so i can stop *******’.
see 'modern suburban morning' for first ants demise, which prompted this piece.
Sep 2015 · 3.2k
suspended yellow leaf
am i ee Sep 2015
newly fallen yellow leaf
suspended in mid-air

passers by
absorbed in their heads

missing this magic
missing her gifts.

Mother Nature
her creatures
her elements

collaborating together
every moment
bringing art forth so new

gravity and
season Fall
a spider's strong silk thread
and all

leaving this is small
wonder
for all to share.

of which
no other
can compare.
catching the magic & wonder in everyday ordinary....
am i ee Sep 2015
****** blowers,
never ending.

straight to living hell,
you are, me, sending.
Sep 2015 · 1.5k
New Home
am i ee Sep 2015
When i first moved in
all i was to hear
was,
Ladies don’t drink out of the toilet.
Ladies don’t drink out of the toilet!
Come on now,
ladies don’t drink out of the toilet.,
and YOU are a Lady.

The things we do,
how we acquiesce,
the concessions we make,
to keep the gravy train rolling,
moving along.

A place to bunk,
a soft pillow for your head.

So we do.

The bunkmate stays so happy,
smiling &
relaxed,
and finally gets
off of your back.
Sep 2015 · 594
Tales of a Manly Cowboy
am i ee Sep 2015
The strapping young lad & the manly cowboy
went out for a brew.
"i'd like to go camping with you."

"this ain't no brokeback mountian,
if that's on which yew were a countin'."

"no worries mate,
really, i wasn't looking for a date!"
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Sep 2015 · 325
hearing's final doom
am i ee Sep 2015
hey you,
yes you,
the strapping young lad,
with that leaf blower resting
on that shoulder pad.

why don’t you use a rake?
your hearing that blower
soon will take.

what will you do when  
alone in a room,
with that sweet lass,
when she’s moaning
as you are caressing
her beautiful ***?

your hearing so slight,
you can’t quite catch,  
the growing of her subtle delight.

you wouldn’t heed the warning,
now you can't hear her moaning.

now you are left wishing
how much you
should have,
could have,
used that silent broom.

instead of that machine,
that machine of  
your keen hearing’s
final & lasting doom.
yes, more modern suburban hell.
Sep 2015 · 308
blank canvas
am i ee Sep 2015
20,
and face so smooth,
so new.
nary a line,
nary a mark.

blank and young.
an unwritten life.
so much more,
soon to come.

50, and wiser,
the years go by.
interesting trails,
travel the face.

telling of experiences,
telling of a life,
rich with joy,
rich with strife.

learning to steep,
in every moment.
however it appears,
for that shall too,
soon disappear.

studying the faces,
of myriad people,
so many passing by.

the life of each,
creating landscapes unique,
in skin and bone
and eyes and teeth.

cracks and crevices,
spots and colors,
what an,
oh so,
interesting
life.
Sep 2015 · 1.6k
another night
am i ee Sep 2015
Owl hooting outside.
Puppy panting inside.
Another deliciously
quiet, peaceful, dark night.
Sep 2015 · 315
fowl mysteries
am i ee Sep 2015
trodding through trees,
Mother Earth
fresh and sweet,
twice this season,
twice so recent.

stumbled upon,
on the floor of the woods,
a pair of perfect wings,
not a feather disturbed.
only the very center,
the body,
not there.

a spine cleaned bare,
remained right there,
next to the
wings
of the penultimate one.

only silent space,
lying between,
each wing,
between  
each one.

oh what mysteries surround,
lying around,
not making a sound.
only for those who wander
and look,
and,
look and,
wander around.
Sep 2015 · 856
a suffering appetizer
am i ee Sep 2015
"don't get old,"
whispered she.
"my love, my friend, my life."
"stay with me."

"i'm gonna miss you so, when you are gone."
slow tear tracing down,
arms wrapped tight,
kissing her with all her might.
presupposes predecease.
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