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:: The Poet Jared ::

Love and Money | My Ass | The Worlds Fattest Man

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I was born in Bridgeport Connecticut in 1954. I grew up in the 50s and 60s and witnessed a profound time of social upheaval and events that would shape this country for the next hundred years. I started writing poetry as a senior in high school in 1971, and was encouraged by a husband and wife who were both professional writers to develop a unique style of writing that is inspired by the likes of Bob Dylan and Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Sadly much of my earlier work was lost in an abandoned storage locker in Los Angeles sometime in 1975. Many years later, I regained my voice after a traumatic personal relationship. Since then I have vowed to myself that my voice will be heard, my poems will be written and hopefully I will be known as an American poet. The inspiration for my poetry come from almost everything from the very mundane to serious introspection as I watch the world pass before my eyes like an endless parade of wonder and amusement. I now reside in Gilbert Arizona and pay my bills as a commercial electrician and live with my girlfriend, our three cats and two dogs.

::11:30:07::

::: My Ass :::

is not an ass
not like some
people have
my ass is smaller
than the breasts
of the last lady
I was with
my ass
has
negative butt crack
my ass
is nothing major
nothing ceremonious
just an unpretentious
bump
at the end
of my legs
to mark the end of
them
and the beginning
of my back

I don’t know
what happened
to my ass
maybe
I laughed
my ass off
or worked
my ass off
or maybe ass thieves
stole my ass
in the middle
of the night
when I was sleeping
but there is nothing
much there

I tried to file
a missing persons report
and the police would not
help me
only saying
the ass was just part of me
and not a whole person
and if I was an ass
and I turned up missing
they would take the report
but not from the one
who was missing
and not just about
one part of me
that was missing

so where is my ass
I don’t know
my shorts are baggy in the back
but my stomach sticks out
in the front
maybe they changed places
on a whim
maybe I
sat on my ass too long
writing
and it just collapsed

I talked to
an Indian guru
and he told me
maybe I should
get in touch
with my inner assness
and maybe I would find
the ass within myself
and I checked
my Chinese astrology
and I was definitely not born
in the year of my ass

my ass is not
gluteus maximus
but rather
gluteus minimus
nothing to be proud of
nothing to look at
and I am sure
it is the butt of many jokes
it is just not there
and not anywhere
if you see an ass
that looks like
it belongs on me
please let me know
operators are
standing by

Written by: ~ The Poet Jared – September 2001

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