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 very gentlemanly.

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.

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.
~~~

"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

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.

cool morning
sitting still.

insects speak
owl hoots.

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!