A Grasshopper’s Hard Luck Life

by

Scared grasshopper reading book

When you’re a grasshopper
there are millions of predators
that are always hunting you:
over 200 species of birds,
reptiles, other insects, like
spiders and beetles, cats
and dogs and humans too.

And grasshoppers are fried
simmered and roasted in
snacks, flours and breads,
consumed by humans in at
least six countries, USA too.

So being a merrily hopping
grasshopper is no pleasure
cruise with tons of predators
in pursuit of you.

And blessed are you not
having to live a grasshopper’s
hard luck life.

Bob Boyd

Dead Zen and Tang Dynasty Poets

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My friends are dead Zen and Tang Dynasty poets.

When I read them daily, it is like I am hanging
out with them,

and I think to myself who needs any more friends
than these great poets?

Their words, their philosophies, their wisdom,
provide me with all the socialization I need,

far better and more fulfilling than spending my days
listening to the idle chatter of many my age

still in the peopled world.

Bob Boyd

Ikkyu Why Did You Have To ….

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get my attention with this poem of yours:

Beneath the skin of
The one we fondle today,
There is a skeleton,
Propping up the flesh.

Ikkyu

Why couldn’t you have just written something
less graphic, less disturbing?

You could have written something less drastic, like
the woman you are fondling today will be dead someday.

That, though still disturbing, would have been more palatable,
gone down easier.

Now if I ever fondle a woman again, your buzzkill poem
will at some point pop into my mind
and wreck the illusion that I’ll be holding her forever.

Besides, you were supposed to be a freakin’ monk,
not some playboy writing about fondling women.

Ikkyu, if you hadn’t been a monk, I’d say damn you,
but I can’t afford any more bad karma in this life.

So in regard to your disturbing poem I’ll just say,
Ikkyu, why did you have to?

Bob Boyd

Lucky Hall Gangster Lean

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In his misspent, wasted youth
Sitting, profiling, in a pool hall,
Hard eyes, looking tough to fit in.
Often skipped days of school,
Had no time for education
In a small city in Massachusetts.

Inhaling a Lucky Strike cigarette,
Exhaling smoky circles in the air
Unfiltered, only manly way to go,
Greaser haircut, thought he was cool,
Thought he was super tough.

Cue ball breaking a rack to pieces,
Clatter of numbered balls
Speeding all over the pool table
Bouncing off the banks
Thudding sounds erupting
Some high and low balls
Dropping into the table pockets.

Cigarettes thrown in spittoons.
Hissing sounds when hitting the water.
Guys swearing over missed shots,
Losing serious betting money,
Some gangsters in the making.

Like Lucky Hall, 6’6” lean machine
Gangster mean and crazy as hell,
Always dressed in black.

Strolled over to him and
As he was taking a drag
On his unfiltered cigarette,
Lucky stuck a gun in his face.
He sat casually in a chair,
Pool stick in hand, unfazed,
Guns rarely seen back then.

He smiled and reached for the gun,
And said to Lucky, “Is that real?”
Not out of bravely was he unafraid,
Couldn’t believe the gun was real.

His nonchalance didn’t get the result
Lucky was looking for.
Lucky turned away, his black trench coat
Swirling in the smoky air,
Lucky looking gangster cool,
Dangerous, and genuine.

Two years later Lucky’s luck ran out.
Shot to death in faraway Alabama.
Probably put his gun in the wrong guy’s face.

Bob Boyd

Po Chü-i (Translations by Arthur Waley)

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(A.D. 772-846)
Po Chü-i was born at T’ai-yüan in Shansi. Most of his childhood was spent at Jung-yang in Honan. His father was a second-class Assistant Department Magistrate. He tells us that his family was poor and often in difficulties.
He seems to have settled permanently at Ch’ang-an in 801. This town, lying near the north-west frontier, was the political capital of the Empire. In its situation it somewhat resembled Madrid. Lo-yang, the Eastern city, owing to its milder climate and more accessible position, became, like Seville in Spain, a kind of social capital.
Soon afterwards he met Yüan Chēn, then aged twenty-two, who was destined to play so important a part in his life. Five years later, during a temporary absence from the city, he addressed to Yüan the following poem:

Since I left my home to seek official state
Seven years I have lived in Ch’ang-an.
What have I gained? Only you, Yüan;
So hard it is to bind friendships fast.
We have roamed on horseback under the flowering trees;
We have walked in the snow and warmed our hearts with wine. We have met and parted at the Western Gate
And neither of us bothered to put on Cap or Belt.
We did not go up together for Examination;
We were not serving in the same Department of State.

Releasing a Captive Crane by Po Chü-i (Translated by Arthur Waley)

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The master of the house has a crane in a cage;
For long years it has looked out through the bars.
It remembers the high flights among the clouds;
It hates the narrow space of the wooden cage.

I came by and took pity on its captive state;
I broke the lock and let it fly away.
It flapped its wings and soared into the sky;
It did not look back at its old master’s house.
Now it flies over the peaks of the southern mountains,
Free at last from the burdens of the earth

To a Cow I’ll Call Betsy

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Cow with peaceful eyes looking at me

We met in New Hampshire.
You were in a fenced in pasture.
I was on the other side of the fence.
You saw me looking at you
and sauntered over to me.
You looked into my eyes;
I looked into your eyes,
And I had an unexpected contact high.
I felt we had cow to human simpatico.
I felt such peace that I wanted to
stay in that peaceful state forever.
But I was with some friends,
and we had to resume our trip
from our homes in Massachusetts
to deeper into New Hampshire.
And as I walked away looking back at you,
you intoned a long mooooooo as if to say goodbye

And I’ll never forget this cow I’ll call Betsy.

Bob Boyd

For You Wherever You Are

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I always hoped we would meet
again someday

I wasn’t carrying the torch
I just wondered how your life went

and I wanted to let you how mine went
as well

but when I did a search for you
I learned you died of cancer at age 71

but I also saw that you had been married
and had two daughters

and I was happy for you

and wherever you are I wish you well
and hope you are happy

and in a glorious place

Bob Boyd

Insects That Walks on Water

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Insect walking on water

Insects a half-inch long,
thin bodies,
three sets of legs,
tiny hairs on legs,
that repel water,
enabling them to
walk, more correctly,
stride, on water.

They’re innocent-
looking insects
but watch out if
you’re a dragonfly.

If you or other
insects fall in the
water, they’ll grab
you and suck the
life out of you.

Water Striders is
their name.

Bob Boyd

People Missing in Boulder Fields

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Entity inside big boulder

According to David Paulides, many
people have vanished near boulder fields.
I listened to Paulides last night on the
radio show Coast to Coast. He said some
people told him that entities lived in those
big stone boulders, which makes me
wonder if there are entities really living
in those boulders that are somehow
snatching people into those boulders,
maybe into some other dimension.

Maybe entities massive and fast enough
to snatch a person before that person
could scream or make a sound.

Of course, it sounds like bunk, but the
many people who go missing without
a trace, or anything traceable, make
one wonder if something paranormal
is responsible for these missing 411s.

No tracks. No scents search dogs can
follow. Just gone from this world and
never found or heard from again.

Bob Boyd

Sea-Monkeys

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They were advertised in comic books
humanoid-looking creatures that vaguely
resembled weird looking monkeys that
you ordered through the mail. When you
received them, you got a packet you
poured into to water and presto! they
hatched from dried eggs in the packet.
But instead of those humanoid-looking
creatures, you got brine shrimp. You
could say it was a rip off, but it was
still a lot of fun and worth the cost.
I write this from experience; I had
a bunch of Sea-Monkeys in the past.

Bob Boyd

Etched in Some Peoples’ Bad Memories

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In an epiphany, he realized he
was etched in some peoples’

bad memories

and that some people
were etched in his bad memories

and he hoped their bad memories
of him

and his bad memories
of them

would be of no significance
when they and he

died

Bob Boyd

The Cute Stray Evil Kitty

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Expressionism vampire kitty

She liked fresh young women
any blood type would do
she picked young women
she felt them more feline
better suited for her dark purposes
she’d lure them to her
with her squeaky meowing
cute stray kitty persona
they’d coo and ah over her
and give her a good home
but when the house lights
were turned off and
the night set in she’d
silently hop onto their beds
fangs in their jugulars
drain their fresh bodies
of their invigorating blood
Vampire Kitty!

Bob Boyd

Moonlit Killers

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Killers stalking woman in black cape

The night was summer warm
two killers’ hearts were cold
the moon was glowing full
they were looking for a kill
they spied a young woman
a soft and easy target
for their moonlit bloodlust
they stalked her silently
their footsteps unheard
except by the young woman
with her extrasensory hearing
when they were almost upon her
she howled to the moon
her fangs and claws came out
and she ripped the would be
predators into bloody pieces

Bob Boyd

What Would Happen if Earthworms Went on Strike?

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Earthworms on strike

They’re considered a lowly species
just good for fish bait

but many are ignorant of
how beneficial to the world they are

and what would happen if
they went on strike:

the soil wouldn’t yield crops

there’d be mass starvation

and flooding and erosion

the animals that feed on them
would starve to death and
become extinct

the animals that feed on those
animals would starve to death and
become extinct as well

as would the animals that
prey on those animals

in a devastating domino effect

all if the lowly, fish bait earthworms
went on strike.

Bob Boyd

High Flying Canadian Geese

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Bob Boyd flying in sky

I hear Canadian Geese flying
and honking

high in the sky outside my apartment.

I wonder how it feels flying
high in the sky like they do.

Does it make the geese elated?

Do they honk because they’re
exhilarated?

Or is flying and honking just
something they do minus any

elations or exhilarations?

I think they probably just fly,
unlike how I’d soar ecstatically

in the sky — if I could fly.

Bob Boyd

If There’s an Afterlife ….

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Better behaved people in the afterlife

If there’s an afterlife,
do we automatically act better there,

freed from our human imperfections,
or, worse, do we carry those burdens

into the afterlife with no redemption
and the dreaded hell or the

hoped for heaven for the chosen few?

Or do we go into a holding pattern,
our good and bad karma intact,

and return to the spinning wheel for another
shot at getting off the wheel — perfected?

I, of course, don’t know the answer to
these questions. And I’m more practical:

I just hope I don’t have to contend with any
insufferable or evil people there.

Bob Boyd

“From Undulations of the Floating World All Forms Are Born”

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Life undulating across the comos

I read that lyric today in a poem, Mirage at Sea (1085) by Su Tung-po, and it made me visualize undulations of creation

with all life forms flowing out of the undulations into this earthly,
this universal, existence.

And It seemed to me that undulations was the perfect word
for all the created forms, known and unknown, sentient and

insentient, arising on the earth and in the universe
every second of every day.

Bob Boyd