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Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
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Harbingers

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 
      valley


 
       
 

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
ss-
holes!”  rebel
yell from a guy 
lying on the
floor, two bras
and a joint
tossed upon a
beer-stained
stage . . .
 
more than 
enough for
an encore

 

Leaving

ayaz daryl nielsen


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

 

horrorku

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



emptiness

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

 

shit

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.

 

 

 

joint

by ayaz daryl nielsen


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

 

Smooches

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

by

ayaz daryl nielsen


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

 

 

evening report:

by

ayaz daryl nielsen


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



 

biological clock

by

ayaz daryl nielsen


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

 

 



 

this city's

by

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

suddenly

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.

 

 

Lonely

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.

hangover

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.

 

 

cabby

by ayaz daryl nielsen

cabby mentions

the undeniable:

“flatulence”

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

strangers

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

 

 

buried

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

we buried

each arm

a few feet

either side

 

of his grave

 

he always 

asked for

plenty of

elbow room

 

 

meditating

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

meditating before 

breakfast—already

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

 

case:

    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

 

enigma:    

    dryad's lost pathway home

 

recommendation:

    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

 

awakener:  

    forever tender                 

    Aspen Lady

 

outcome:   

    dryad, dancing among  

    woodland royalty  

    around the aspen 

    of her own home

                  

case:  

    embraced

 

file:     

    closed.    




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 

predicts

“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

weird

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

right.




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

  for

    all

      of

        us.




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

together”



rogue dragonflies

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

 

rogue dragonflies

drones that have gone feral

lunar colonies



rogue drones

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

rogue drones

raddling

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.       




fyi

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

 

fyi

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”                             



poet

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

 

when being embraces

what a page can bring

white within black 

and light within dark

timelessness beyond

electronic uncertainty

















  

 

 

shydryad.jpg
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.

 

 


unbound.jpg
Art by M. R. Sonntag 2018

unbound

 

by ayaz daryl Nielsen

 

 

young boy

that I was

moonlight

through an

open window

were-cub 

that I am

 

unbound, bleeding gashes

transgressions filled with horrors

and we don’t even knock

 

 

 

honeysuckle breeze

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

honeysuckle breeze

       scarecrow

            sneezes

 

 

 

old crow and I

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

 

old conifer

             split by lightning

                          two crows bicker

 

hot breeze

            through an open skylight

                          raucous crows

 

in the sky above

me and my flat tire

                         old crow crowing

 

oh angry crows,

           was my brief presence

                         really so troublesome

 

tell me where you live,

          old crow, so I can poop

                         on your front porch

 

new home

          same old 

          crow sounds

 

crows above

         the new Zen garden

                      drop their blessings

 

old crow and I

         cawing, laughing as we 

                       meet yet again

moments.jpg
Art by Ann Marie Rhiel 2018

moments

 

by ayaz daryl nielsen

 

window beside desk

rumble of evening

a day’s leftovers as

blood and ink mix

writing my presence

naming my deities

 

 

 

ayaz daryl nielsen, veteran, hospice nurse, ex-roughneck (as on oil rigs) lives in Longmont, Colorado, USA. Editor of bear creek haiku (30+ years/140+ issues), with poetry published worldwide (and deeply appreciated), he also is online at: https://bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com.                                     

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