Yellow Mama Archives

Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
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Irascible, Dr. I. M.
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Ayaz Daryl Nielsen

There are lakes of emerald water
where harbingers soak their feet--
I hear their long sad sighs.


"hate is unequal,"

ayaz daryl nielsen

"hate is unequal,"
the 60-year-old woman sighs
her sigh makes him shudder
as she strokes him
with mouth and hand


well, mother

ayaz daryl nielsen

well, mother, what I 
can do for you now . . .
spread your  
ashes over
   this quiet 


61 year old bass player in a pretty good blues band

ayaz daryl Nielsen

upon the piano . . .
rowdy drunks at
the bar bellow
“one more, a
nine couples  
sweaty from
dancing, a full
glass of single
malt scotch
holes!”  rebel
yell from a guy 
lying on the
floor, two bras
and a joint
tossed upon a
stage . . .
more than 
enough for
an encore



ayaz daryl nielsen

leaving as a daydream—
a quick “goodbye” as the
room begins to fade



ayaz daryl nielsen

her sewing basket,
a collection of
orphan eyeballs

early morning coffee 
and the usual
emailed death curse
ant antennae
feeling for missing
back legs
locked ward
hides my shadow
hides my claws


ayaz daryl nielsen

in the Zen garden,
an empty beer can.
one more swallow, and
I add another.



I, myself, and me-ku

ayaz daryl Nielsen

a big fool, yelling
"another scotch!  and a beer!"—
everyone looks at me
she leaves the room
and her dog
bites me
as thunder cracks,
young girls shriek—
or was it me?
my favorite pen,
perched behind my ear,
falls in the urinal



ayaz daryl Nielsen

biggg yawn, cough, snort, stretch,
fart, charly horse (damn it)
rub eyes (and charly horse),
pick nose, scratch ass, give my dick
a stroke (or two)—I need to piss.
As I attempt to find my
misplaced starter button,
seemingly lost in an orifice,
morning staggers toward
another fuggin day
just full of it.





by ayaz daryl nielsen

standing on the balcony
soaking up moonlight
with nothing on
a passing wind
flicks my joint
for me



by ayaz daryl nielsen

within the issue
of seeking our
eyeglasses without
our eyeglasses
we choose
to smooch




Vegas and Super Bruce

by ayaz daryl Nielsen

oh, Vegas, home of my
lifelong drunkard friend
how have the two of you
managed to be
such as you are
for so long?




you think?

by ayaz daryl nielsen

parties--guys and girls share
the same bathroom and
us real men are always
absolutely certain
raising a toilet seat is
never necessary
because our beer bladder
urine bursts are always
accurately aimed right
where they're supposed to go



graveside service


ayaz daryl nielsen

three pall bearers
a defrocked priest
and an ex-wife's



evening report:


ayaz daryl nielsen

old dog and I
are pleased to announce
this weekend we
accomplished nothing


biological clock


ayaz daryl nielsen

her biological clock has stopped
and she emanates
unadulterated promiscuity
and it is so good




this city's


ayaz daryl nielsen

harsh night life—
morning sun
nervously probes
gutter and alley

big booger and

a bicyclist

by ayaz daryl Nielsen

a red light and

I'm digging away

at the tail-end

of a booger

and I've almost 

got it despite

the couple beside 

us in the Buick

staring at me

with grim distaste

and my wife stating

"that is so gross"

and as the light

turns green, I've got it!

it's wet, sticky

and humungous!

I roll my window

down as my right

index finger care-

fully maintains

the integrity

of this awesome

booger and with

great dexterity

and accuracy

flick it through the

window onto

the back of a 

bicyclist in 

pink and purple

spandex on a

$10,000 bicycle

and this day

is just that


so much better.



the hounds within my poetry

by ayaz daryl nielsen

These howling hounds in my poetry.

Who are they? The hounds who love poetry.

Why are they howling? The love hounds

of poetry, it's their laughter, the laughter of 

love hounds, this howling in my poetry.




by ayaz daryl nielsen

Lonely as a grave is

six feet deep. Maybe 

much deeper. Measure 

my loneliness at six-and-

a-half and still descending.


by ayaz daryl nielsen

hangover and a

mossy rash—what did I

sleep with last night?



profound entrenchment

by ayaz daryl nielsen

upon the man-throne . . .

if I just had cell phone 

‘cause am ripping sound 

profound and new girl 

friend should, could 

listen in . . .

or . . .

maybe not.




by ayaz daryl nielsen

cabby mentions

the undeniable:


flapping her vents

by ayaz daryl nielsen

flapping her vents—

an unexpected hot flash

from her reactor core



old iron bed frame

by ayaz daryl nielsen

old iron bed frame

the lover my pillows

gossip about

faulty mirror

by ayaz daryl nielsen

faulty mirror

a reflection of

last year’s fool




just a few beers

by ayaz daryl nielsen

just a few beers

(and a shot)

and we’re

no longer


guys howling

Beast of Burden

full moon

by ayaz daryl nielsen



full moon

blood cousins and I

hunt as a pack

how to address


by ayaz daryl nielsen


how to address

the Cheshire Cat's

nicotine addiction

psychic shithead


by ayaz daryl nielsen



psychic shit-head

knows my poker hand

before I do





by ayaz daryl nielsen


we buried

each arm

a few feet

either side


of his grave


he always 

asked for

plenty of

elbow room





by ayaz daryl nielsen


meditating before 


egg on my face



roller coaster


by ayaz daryl nielsen


roller coaster

               you reach

the high notes



and yo-hum


by ayaz daryl Nielsen



and yo-hum . . . another 

off-world non-redneck 

alien intervention

always the same issue: 

none of them

bring along beer.

what the magpie


by ayaz daryl nielsen



what the magpie 

of gastrointestinal distress

must have done—

dribble, slobber, 

barf, then chortle

in the font

of my morning's

karmic dues 




the weight of bones


by ayaz daryl nielsen


unknown bones

solitary murders, mass 

executions, forgotten graves,

homicides, human sacrifices

abandoned, unknown, 

the never known— 

"when we are of

body and spirit,

they carry us 

as we carry them

and when they are gone,

we linger and yearn, 

an earthbound yearning

from the forgotten, the hidden, 

for somebody, somebody

to bless us and  tell us good-bye"

in the vast seas


by ayaz daryl Nielsen



in the vast seas


of far Kleptonia


the best bait


for trolling lines


is earthlings 

grandma and I


by ayaz daryl nielsen



grandma and I


follow wolf prints


around the barnyard


(until we realize


they're ours) 

“now that's gross,”


by ayaz daryl nielsen



“now that’s gross,”


she states, “zombies


with chicken pox,”


thinking to myself,


who’s gonna notice   

myths, slumming


by ayaz daryl nielsen



every now and then 

among our eons 

myths emerge from 

the primeval void 

within Mediterranean 

whirlpools, epicurean 

merrymakers and a 

few fortunate humans, 

reassurance of our 

gene pool’s well-

being, vitality, and

ability to party 

a faint taste of human

by ayaz dayrl nielsen



a faint taste of human

have to get better

at brushing my teeth



chile verde

by ayaz daryl Nielsen



chile verde

her lips as if

needing a kiss



squeezing peaches

by ayaz daryl nielsen



squeezing peaches

thinking of the

men she’s dated 

from the files of:  Necro Mancer

Colorado P.I. (Paranormal Instigator) . . .


by ayaz daryl nielsen



    aspen dryad, lost


destination of said lost dryad:

    august Aspen Lady's

    forever tender embrace


said august Aspen Lady:  

    green fairy queen 

    of local aspen dryads



    dryad's lost pathway home



    as cicada's dormant silence

    between winter's glistening sheets,

    sweet-dream as a dewdrop

    tumbling with tumble wolves 

    down a full moon's light-stream 

    into awakener's waiting arms



    forever tender                 

    Aspen Lady



    dryad, dancing among  

    woodland royalty  

    around the aspen 

    of her own home







sinews of the primeval goddess


by ayaz daryl nielsen


Sinews of the primeval goddess

stretch and shrink in their sentient 

engagement with all dimensions of 

earthen interaction, the visceral 

foreshadows of an ageless embrace.    

breakfast with the soothsayer


by ayaz daryl nielsen


breakfast with the soothsayer         

and she 


“this day

will be cold,

cold as a once-revered saber buried 

within a forgotten battlefield’s debris,

a saber capable of transmuting ill-will

and evil intent into an intrinsic realization 

of the sacredness within all existence . . .  

and this saber . . .”  pausing, she grasps 

my arm . . . “it can, it must be found, found and

wielded by hero and heroine, working together, 

as one . . .  and you and I,” she states firmly,

squeezing my arm, “it’s up to us . . .  it’s us”  

the steaming coffee cup 

halfway to my lips, suspended 

in the silent, fertile morning light. . . .       

my breakfast table


by ayaz daryl nielsen


my breakfast table

maple syrup’s sweet-talking

the blueberry pancake    

“don’t mind all the calls”


by ayaz daryl nielsen



“don’t mind all the calls”

grandma says to grandpa

“soon there won’t be any”       

spouse asleep on


by ayaz daryl nielsen



spouse asleep on

four-fifths of the bed

my gentle nudge

she sleepily states

“move over”   

the earth shudders


by ayaz daryl nielsen



the earth shudders

truth-teller of deception

I deny everything                    

note above Cafe Luna’s toilet


by ayaz daryl nielsen



note above Cafe Luna’s toilet

<with customer add-ons>


Please don’t flush:

tampons, <your career> pads, diapers,

paper towels, <underwear>

cups, <your integrity>  <plants> trash,

<computers> <dignity>

<hope>  <dreams>  <love>

only T. P.  peet poo.

<flush your greed>

thank you.

<fear is ok> <so is trump>



all our neighbors think that


by ayaz daryl nielsen



all our neighbors think that

we are a bit


could be

the third eyes

and we think all of them

are a bit weird

could be

the extra arms

and it seems that

we’re all

a bit


grandfather’s starship


by ayaz daryl nielsen



grandfather’s starship

dry-dock and mothballs . . . yet,

sis and I, our dreams


empty spaceship

filled with shadows of

deep-space adventure


the old robots

waiting in great-grandfather’s shuttle

yes, they remember


within the robot eyes

dreams and visions the

color of humans


further, even further

beyond all known boundaries

yes, full-throttle overdrive!


this unexplored black hole

singing hymns of well-being

for whatever awaits us


and at least

take time

to explore

our universe

for you

for me





neighbors complaint

by ayaz daryl nielsen




neighbors complaint 

early mornings

with our kids in

their tree house

drumming the sun up

the unspoken words


by ayaz daryl nielsen



the unspoken words

between this ‘bot and I

the vibration

as our eyes meet

“let’s plug in


rogue dragonflies


by ayaz daryl nielsen



rogue dragonflies

drones that have gone feral

lunar colonies

rogue drones


by ayaz daryl nielsen


rogue drones


through the aspen

wind through the evergreens


by ayaz daryl nielsen



wind through the evergreens

waves of rogue drones

flowing in it         

and so, naked us


by ayaz daryl nielsen



I pause beside

her table, saying,

“umm, you know,

it appears you’re

sitting here

with nothing on . . .”

“au contraire,” she replies,

“I’m clothed in warm air

and summer sunshine

and the soft-cushioned

seat I’m sitting on and

my feet are resting

on a lovely burnished

mahogany patio and I’ve

this full glass of

sauvignon blanc for

my fingers, lips and mind . . .

and so,” she then purrs,

“would you like to join me?”

A few moments with

a completely blank

mind, and I’m saying

“yes, I believe I will,”

and we have a lovely

late afternoon into 

evening, naked, together,

yes, and so we did

and so we still are.       



by ayaz daryl nielsen




how to tell if

graveyard thistles

have penetrated a

newly-buried body:

they’ll bloom with

malodorous grey

flowers seeping

a black acid that

bees and birds

won’t go near           

last journal entry


by ayaz daryl nielsen



last journal entry

found with remnants

of our missing

uncle’s body:

“well, we’ve proven

silver bullets

don’t work”                             



by ayaz daryl nielsen



when being embraces

what a page can bring

white within black 

and light within dark

timelessness beyond

electronic uncertainty




Art by Ann Marie Rhiel 2017

Shy Dryad


by ayaz daryl nielsen



Speak to the leaves on the trees

Be gentle and persuasive

they’re waiting for


your words.


Talk with trembling leaves


They know your presence, your

bloodlines and passions.


Speak of them, your

words within


autumn winds


Speak of the restlessness

of leaves


upon trees.



ayaz daryl nielsen, ex-roughneck (as on oil rigs) and hospice nurse, is editor of bear creek haiku (27+ years/135+ issues); homes for his poems include Lilliput Review, SCIFAIKUEST, Whispers in the Wind, Shamrock, Yellow Mama, VerseWrights, and!  Yellow Mama!  online at:  bear creek haiku poetry, poems and info.

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