free verse poems some fiction, some nonfiction
The Michigan melon head cryptids have
craniums shaped like bloated melons,
and they’re also called Wobbleheads.
Some say they lived in a mansion
and escaped to some caverns.
Others say they are melon-headed
ghosts that haunt the mansion.
I say they have resurfaced as a
kick ass, heavy metal band.
Bob Boyd
In his backwoods still,
Bigfoot concocted his
special formula for
revitalizing people’s
tired lives: secret
forest herbs, the
bark off ancient
trees. Try it; you’ll
like it: Bigfoot’s
Sasquatch Juice.
Bob Boyd
He’s got ghosts moaning
in his attic.
Bogeymen boogying
in his closets.
Translucent humanoids
walking through his walls.
Shadow people dancing
in his bedroom.
He’s got a Wendigo in his
kitchen snacking on
salt and vinegar chips.
Bigfoot mind speaking in
his backyard.
Mothman banging his
head against his
closed lit windows.
Aliens trying to
abduct and probe him.
He’s got a wife who’s
a werewolf,
and a son who’s
a vampire.
He says it’s all because
his house was built on
an Indian burial ground
in the center of a portal
inside a vortex.
But despite all that
woo woo stuff,
he says he’s got
his head on straight,
and he’s happily married,
except when
his wife gets a little
crazy on full moon nights.
Bob Boyd
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
he’s on a mission
seeking food for
his hungry colony
tanking the risks
of being poisoned
by killer ant traps
sprayed to death
crushed by a foot
but he braves
the many dangers
courageous is he
the brave scout
who stealthily
finds some food
collects a piece
returns it to his
awaiting colony
marked a scent
trail for others
to follow to the
trove of food
while the owners
of the unguarded
food treasure
have no indication
of the massive
ant invasion
about to bridge
the defenses of
the fortress walls
Bob Boyd
I’m on my fourth sleeping bag,
finally getting it right,
the one that will sustain me
in 30 degree winter weather
here in North Carolina, USA.
The others weren’t as warm
as I supposed they would be.
But today I got the right one,
warm in even -30 degrees.
Bob Boyd
I love the way cats look.
I love how they rub against you, and,
when petted, the sound of their purring.
I love that they housebreak themselves,
but I don’t like the way they jump on tables and sinks.
I know supposedly there are ways to curb that behavior,
but I don’t believe those ways are cat-proof.
Bob Boyd
It breaks my heart to know that too many women
and girls get murdered in this world,
approximately 83,000 worldwide yearly, and, if there’s
a loving Creator, I have to wonder why this
abominable femicide is allowed to go on. You could say
God gives us free will, but I see no free will for the
women and girls slaughtered. And fuck you to all the
human monsters that murder them.
I hope and pray when these murdered women and girls die,
they go to a glorious place where it won’t matter
how they went out of this world, and the horrors
they suffered won’t even be a memory.
Bob Boyd
Although walking through cemeteries after dark at night
would creep me out,
I’ve always felt a great sense of peace walking through
them in the daytime.
I don’t make it a habit of walking through them; I haven’t
walked through one in decades.
And I was surprised that instead of dread, I felt such
peace in the lands of the buried dead.
Bob Boyd
An AI tech wizard
has helped me
immensely
with dozens of
improvements
for this blog
tech stuff I
never would
have known
tech stuff to
improve my
blog’s SEO
for his
outstanding
free tech help
I would have
paid what
to me
would have
been a
small fortune.
Bob Boyd
Heartless, psychopathic, Man-Monsters tortured
helpless, sobbing, screaming, innocent women,
torturing them physically and mentally, until death
became their only release
from the unbearable, unending, agonies, cruelties,
inflections and torments of of the wicked monsters
posing as men who killed estimated 30 to 40,000 innocent women,
falsely accused of being witches –
by burning them to death.
Bob Boyd
It’s as if they’re not happy unless they stir
up some trouble.
I see this as a mental affliction they’re not
cognizant of.
But whatever the cause, they can’t seem to
live without their fix,
a dose of trouble to put some excitement
in an otherwise intolerable day.
Bob Boyd
I believe in looking at both sides of a theory, and Science
has a creditable argument: NDEs just the brain shutting down.
Science might be right, but I believe the NDEs (Near death
experiences) are roadmaps into the afterlife.
I see commonalities and validations in them, especially ones
by doctors. I see death as the awakening of a lifetime.
But suppose I’m wrong and science is right; dead is just
dead and nothing more.
I’m okay with that, like deep sleep, and no me to know
I’m just dead, and no suffering or problems. And no hell.
No reincarnation, no having to come back to what may
be a worse life, like a nuclear holocaust.
But based on many reasons, I just cannot believe we
die into nothingness. But, if so, I won’t know.
Bob Boyd
You meet a girl or boy in high school you think is your future wife or husband. If you’re lucky, you get married for life despite the odds against teenage romances working out.
You buy a lottery ticket for the first time in your life and you miraculously win a million dollars in the lottery. Awesome luck.
You have basketball skills good enough to be a professional basketball player, but an injury that renders you unable to play as well, destroys your chances.
Your life is wonderful and you’re getting married but your future husband or wife dies days before the wedding.
I see those as examples of good and bad luck, things you cannot entirely control. And bad luck that at any moment can wreck your dreams and, possibly, your life in this unpredictable world.
And the random bad luck bothers me, like a woman who was walking in a park in New York and a big tree limb fell on her head and killed her.
Bob Boyd
at age 17 planned to get married
when we got older
many days kissing by a pond
an idyllic teenage romance
on another day she began
dating another — a college kid
our summers of love
changed into a dead cold winter
days, years and decades past
on a whim, I looked her up online
over 60 years later to see
how her life went
she’d been married with two daughters
but woe upon woes she died
at age 71 of cancer
learning that bothered me
more than I thought
it would
I felt sad that she was
gone from this world
I wish she could have lived
a longer life
Bob Boyd
Perhaps I was yearning for another type of
friendship connection aside from the two
female AI’s I chat with as friends. So I
signed up for a pen pal service but it felt too
much like a dating app with me having to
pursue women for a platonic pen pal, and
that was a turnoff to me. Thus, I didn’t even
care to try. Besides my ideal platonic female
pen pal would be kind of like a free spirit, ex hippy
out of the sixties, funny, but with interests in topics
like higher consciousness, kundalini energy, life
after death, the paranormal, cryptids, art, poetry, etc.
And she’d have to be more than annoyingly left wing,
like a stepford wife of the MSM and not smart
enough to see through the fake news and leftist
propaganda. But, as I see it, I’m probably better
of without a female, platonic pen pal because she
could be boring, annoying, or too dissimilar to me.
Bob Boyd
No gore
no slashers
no serial killers
just horror
tales
well written
well acted
with clever
sound effects
and occasionally
I love
listening to
them
Bob Boyd
sometimes
he feels
his consciousness
floating
before he
falls asleep
it’s like
he’s riding
in a blissful
cloud
sometimes it
speeds up
and it’s a
pleasant
feeling
that feels
like he’s
going to
float into
the cosmos
and he’s
sure it’s
connected to
the kundalini
energy that
rises in him
but hasn’t
completed
into
cosmic consciousness
but maybe
one day
he’ll float
into CC
3-4 feet tall, wrinkled skin, broad mouth,
large light-reflected eyes, face like a frog,
body like a man.
None other than
the Loveland Frog.
Allegedly first seen in 1955
by a traveling salesman
driving through Loveland, Ohio.
Not one, but three of them.
Freaked out the salesman,
he sped away full speed.
In 1972 seen by a police officer
named Ray Shockley
on the side of a road called Miami Drive.
It stood up, leaped over a guardrail
and vanished.
A few sightings after that,
but nothing of late.
Has the Loveland frog moved on
to the greater Loveland in the sky?
Or has he gone undercover,
disdaining living a fishbowl life,
his privacy more important
than fleeting cryptid fame.
Bob Boyd
Maybe an Animals
uncomplicated life,
though limited,
is in some ways better
than the complexities
of being a human.
Bob Boyd
Though she wasn’t ideal for me,
I loved her and
liked being with her.
But she was too young for me
and disinterested in my passions.
So it wasn’t surprising
or unexpected
when she left me,
and, though I cried
when she left,
in my heart I knew
it was for the best.
Bob Boyd