Month: February 2024

Angel in Heaven

when I first saw you
astonished
speechless
I felt like I was
beholding a
bona fide
beautiful
angel
descended
from
heaven
years later when by chance
I saw you in an airport
we spoke and I learned
you were a mortal
but as beautiful as any angel
a military nurse you were
going to the war in Afghanistan
a student I was on the way to London
we promised to stay in touch
alas and tears a terrorist bomb
took you forever away from me
in that hot desert warzone
perhaps God needed another
angel in heaven
ah me
I dry
my eyes
thinking of
what might
have been

Bob Boyd

My Tormented Heart

At seventy one, sadly love seems
To have drained out of your life.
Maybe like me with age-reduced testosterone
You have age-reduced estrogen.
Maybe unlike me, older than you,
That reduction has dimmed your ardor.
But if only you could see
How the sparks of a new romance
Would set your passion ablaze,
Feeling young and in love again.
I’m standing here enamored
Offering all that and more to you.
But like many ladies your age,
For whatever reasons, you’ve
Given up on romance.
O my tormented heart.

Bob Boyd

Isn’t It Lonely Together

At first the marriage was fairy tale happy
Lovely you, fun, nice, pretty too
A good match for me, got along so well.
A new job at Hewlett Packard
New friends, soon more time away from me.
Coffee houses with girlfriends nearly every night;
Other nights visiting sisters.
At least you didn’t cheat on me, but
Me home lonely, increasingly unhappy,
Your socialization became an addiction,
My heart became increasingly lonely,
My mind began wishing I’d never married you.
A Country Western Song nailed it back then,
Isn’t It lonely Together was you and me,
Or at least me. You seemingly oblivious
And insensitively indifferent to the
heartaches you were causing me.
Every few months an argument
Your rarely home ways, my postnuptial woes.
You’d change for a few weeks then ….
Morph back into the social butterfly wife
And fly away again, home merely
Your launching pad.
The day I told you I was leaving,
Stunned, you couldn’t believe it;
You thought I’d put up with the loneliness
And unhappiness forever.
Pain outweighing pleasure time to leave,
Liberate myself from the pangs of constant desolation.
After I left, you drove all over the city looking for me
As if it wasn’t too late, but I knew if I went back with you,
I’d be lonely together again after a month or two
When you resumed your extroverted ways.

Bob Boyd

Timeless Love

her beauty erased
once a Miss America
plastic surgery
Botox and
a multitude of
age defying
lotions and
useless potions
against age
desecrations

when embracing her
her husband
closes his eyes
and pretends
she’s a beauty again
she closes her eyes
and pretends
he’s handsome again
together 40 years
they know
each other’s game
and still love
each other
their aged
wrinkled bodies
and lost looks
no deterrent to
lasting true love.

Bob Boyd

Monster Monsoon

The rain beats hard against my battered windows.
Its attacks have a dangerously foreboding sound,
Sprays of bullets intent on killing the window panes
And maybe me next if it succeeds in its quest.
Nice and safe inside, like being a kid again,
Covered in security blanket woven in warmth,
Hiding from the angry searching rain,
Cozy, warm and protected against,
The relentless monster monsoon,
That keeps beating on my trembling windows
As if it wants to get in and finish me.
Soaking me thoroughly like a fish in the sea,
Giving me a cold or maybe pneumonia.
Does the rain have a dark soul
That longs to kill me?
At last it has run out of breath
And simmered down,
Reduced to precipitation,
The beating sounds gone.
Its torrential might
Dissolved into drizzle
Before the sun shuts it down.

Bob Boyd

Ambivalence

Sometimes I think it would be nice
To have a girlfriend or a wife.

Then I think about how what is first supremely sweet
Can turn acidically sour.

I think about all the relationships and marriages
Shipwrecked on seas of disillusionment,

And wonder to myself, do I really want to take the chance,
The possibility of an abandoned love and a marooned heart.

Without doubt it can be advantageous when one becomes two,
But the tides are high and the seas can run dry.

Bob Boyd

The Fall

had a fall tonight

water on floor in Walgreens store

sprung up tough as steel

Bob Boyd

True story. There was water on the floor and I hit the floor so hard and so fast the store employers thought I’d need to have someone called or that I was something akin to mortality wounded, lol. Luckily I don’t had osteoporosis and better I fell on that slippery floor than a an elderly woman with osteoporosis; it could have been a broken hip and a hospitalization, possibly death 6 months later.

So in a way, despite the cuts on my finger and my elbow and the soreness, better me than that elderly woman.

Concerned for me, a 79-year-man, one of the employees asked me twice if I was all right. I said, “No problem. I’m tough as nails,” which is actually true, and thank God, I don’t have osteoporosis or slow reflexes. My hand and elbow took the brunt of the fall instead of worse case scenario my head and possibly death.

Addicted to 30s Music

At first, 30s music, old fashioned to me,
The bands playing for awhile before
The singer sang annoyed me.
Get to it, I thought. Don’t prolong
The best part, what I’m listening for,
The singer from the start like
Modern pop. Twenty songs
And many nights later, started
Liking the band playing first,
Appreciated the orchestration,
The magnificence of the harmony of
Instruments, the beauty of the melodies.
Now I like 30s music as much or more than
Music of my 60s and 70s generation.

Bob Boyd

Philippines Enemy Cat

In the Philippines cats get no respect,
Unpampered unlike in the US,
Feral street cats no one there wants for pets.
They leap from roof to roof on one storey
Philippines houses, a racket on the roofs.

Once as kind of a feline experiment,
I hissed at one. Big mistake.
Every time he saw me after that,
His eyes glared, his teeth bared,
and he hissed at me, an enemy.
My conscious guilty for teasing that poor cat,
I began bringing him food.
Six meals later, friends at last.

Bob Boyd

Trains

Trains roaming days and nights
Rolling on tracks clickety clack,
Horns blowing, breaks steaming,
Sometimes a steel beast roaring,
On rails all across the country.
More sights to see them on a plane
With sky and clouds your only view.
I hear trains screeching on the tracks
And feel them shaking my apartment.
Rumblings trembling my chair,
Reverberating in my back
Like a mild earthquake quaking.
I wonder where the trains are bound,
And what it would be like to be on one
Traveling to an unknown local
To start a new more exciting life
Somewhere I’ve never been.
Imagine taking a train to paradise.

Bob Boyd

New York New York

Big Apple city streets and subways less safe.
Fruit has gone sour, partake of it at your own risk.
Lunatics push you into 82,000 pounds of screeching death,
Flattens and chews you up, a cadaver in a meat grinder.
Dreadful, horrible way to go out in bloody bits and pieces,
A signature way to die on the rails from a shove in Gotham City.
Happens more and more often, like a twisted steel fad.
Street psychopaths attack and put you to sleep in the
City that never sleeps. Random attacks the thing.
Older more likely to be the next statistic, but
Anybody’s on the impromptu knock out list.
The prep probably walks while you in the ICU.
Light sentence, if any. Coddled criminals rights
More important than your insignificant citizen safety.
Illegals attacking police free to leave despite
The unwritten rule you don’t attack the
Protectors in blue or the hammer of justice
Hammers you harder, an example set.
New York of old before worms in the Big Apple,
And the bright lights of the city nights went dim
O how I mourn for you.

Bob Boyd

Diminishing Returns of Aging

What Golden Years?
Many old people getting cancer;
Cancer wards like geriatrics wards,
Longer you live the more your
Quality of life diminishes,
The more you become at risk
Of falls, some that can kill you.
More likely to die of flu related illness.
Less money more medical bills.
At some point you probably won’t be driving
You become more unsafe on the road.
Aging wrecks your breaking down body
Muscles shrink, body’s stiffens,
Skin gets ugly, wrinkles,
other marks, some scary looking,
Hopefully not cancer, but stay
Out of the blazing sun. You’re
Number one on skin cancer’s
Hit list.
Hearing and vision can be affected
Like an old machine breaking down.
People you knew or heard of
Dying more frequently.
You’re number one on
COVID’s hit list.

Bob Boyd

Lab Rats

I keep hearing aliens created us,
As if we were mere lab specimens –
Experiments.

Cannot accept this contrary notion,
As if we were not creations of –
God.

Of course because I cannot accept it
Doesn’t mean it is –
Untrue.

Nonetheless, I choose to wholeheartedly believe
Aliens implanted those notions in abductees –
Minds.

Or trolling tricksters seeking some laughs,
Maybe some attention, made up those –
Stories.

Bob Boyd

I love Cats But

I love cats
How they purr
How they meow
How the snuggle up to you
How how they look adorable
How they potty train themselves
How they are ideal for apartments
How they like to be petted all the time
How they can live in an apartment without disturbing neighbors

But

I can’t handle them jumping on tables, especially kitchen tables
I can’t handle them jumping on the sink next to drying dishes
I can’t handle how they can scratch up furniture

Maybe someday I’ll get one.

Bob Boyd

Don’t Go There

Bridgewater Triangle, a dark place where evil spirits, cryptids, and aliens dwell
Disembodied voices, feelings of dread, terrifying visions, many fear to enter there
Maybe a vortex of unholy, hellish things from this dimension and others
If ever you choose to go there, don’t be surprised if you feel afraid
To take too many steps in, and if you go too far in, you might never get out.

Bob Boyd

Conversion

Cancer and heart failure robbed him
At seventy and six years of perfect health,
His immortality evaporated, illusion exposed
Reduced to an endangered, terminal mortal.
Death sensing the opportunity drooled and circled
Like a ravenous vulture eyeballing vulnerable him.
Resigned to the inevitably of that hungry bird reaper
Consuming his tenuous mortal life someday
Decided he needed roadmaps before
His assisted departure into the Great Beyond.
Remembered NDEs he read in the seventies,
Reread about the Life Review, the White Light,
The Unconditional Love none wanted to leave,
The true home, more real, less dreamlike
Then the earthbound temporary life.
Listened to many NDEs on YouTube,
Heard about the order in the chaos,
Seen by some of the NDErs, clinically dead.
Death became the ultimate awakening.
He wanted to experience the mysteries, the wonders.
Then he read horrible NDEs of atheists, terrified,
thought they were in Hell, demons, hellfire, damnation.
Desperate, tormented, horrified, thought about Christ,
Hoping for help, suspended their hard nosed disbeliefs,
Prayed and pleaded to Christ, saw no other way out.
He heard their contrite prayers, appeared in Light,
Whooshed them out of the fires and torments of Hell.
Returned to life Believers, some became ministers.
The newly minted mortal awed by the validation
Asked Christ to forgive his sins and come into his life.
Full blown Believer miraculously morally enhanced
Looks forward to meeting Christ at the doorway to death.

Bob Boyd

Tin Hat

Given billions of planets are considered habitable
Believed life had to exist on other planets
Somewhere.

Didn’t believe all the claims of UFO sightings
And numerous abduction claims in the US
Until —

The government came clean and acknowledged
The Existence.

Now the gates of my mind have opened
And torrents of UFO and abduction stories
Pour In.

Tall Whites, Grays, Reptilians, Nordics and more,
Aliens living in the sea, underground, shape shifting,
Mutilating cows, experimenting on humans,
Impregnating young women, collecting human semen,
Colluding with the Government, might be
Advanced human Civilizations time traveling,
Benevolent or malevolent agendas. Does anyone
Know For Sure?

My mind is so flooded, so overwhelmed, with
Theories so vast, I was better off, a simpler life,
Before I put on a tin hat and gave credence
To It All.

Bob Boyd

High Value Woman

Mary Callahan lived a simple, quiet life.
Never had a lot of money, raised in a poor family,
Good, honest, noble people, supportive and kind.
Never knew the high life and its excesses,
Didn’t desire extravagances or expensive things.
Never cared for overpriced fancy restaurants,
Content with inexpensive ones minus the glitz.
Never compromised her praiseworthy ethics,
Trustworthy in her work, true in her love.
Never cheated on her devoted, faithful husband,
Married at 17, kept her vows, sacred to her.
Never paid attention when told young love doesn’t last,
Stayed married to her husband until he died at age 55.
Never married or went with another man after he died,
Believed she’d be with her husband when she passed away.
Never missed a Sunday church service,
Brought food and joy to homebound church members.
Never shirked family responsibilities,
Raised her dead daughter’s child, worked two jobs to do it,
A true and humble high value woman.

Bob Boyd

Mortality

The clock is ticking. Your life is running out.
Is that important or a thought avoided by you,
Your inescapable, destined demise?
Or most of the time do you fool yourself
Unconsciously feeling like you’ll live forever
Even though sometimes you wake up
And your mortality briefly makes you uneasy
Quickly suppressed, hidden in your mind
Too dreadful a reality to dwell upon.
Till a life threatening medical condition
Invades your body and your anxious mind
And your mortality becomes front and center.
But that possible clock stop can be liberating,
A time for great personal and spiritual growth.

Bob Boyd

Love Can Find A Way

Al and his wife Eleanor inhabited a tiny house off grid in mystical Taos, New Mexico.
For a while their lives were idyllic living off the Taos desert land
Before an obscure band of zombies, unreported by the MSM,
Their origin story unknown as mysterious as UAPs,
Roamed Taos rabidly seeking unsuspecting human prey.
While Eleanor was tending her garden of prickly pear cacti
Behind their tiny house, the sun ducked behind a dark cluster of clouds in the New Mexico skies,
A pitiful little girl zombie approached her crying and growling
Not suspecting a zombie, but thinking the child in shock, her body in tatters,
Perhaps from an awful auto accident maiming her body and mind,
Eleanor, a woman of great compassion, concerned, worried for the innocent little girl
Invited her into her house to console her and dress her wounds
And drive her to the Holy Cross Medical Center for medical attention.
Al wasn’t home at that time, hiking in the environs, enjoying the flora and the sunny day.
Before Eleanor could help the girl, she bit Eleanor on the jugular vein and
After a few unheard gurgling screams, the wound fatal, Eleanor died.
The little girl zombie feasted on her for a few moments, her young appetite easily sated
And ambled away at a frightfully fast pace for a zombie.
Eleanor rose from the dead pretty much brain dead and zombified.
Al returned home horrified; he’d seen enough zombie movies
To know Eleanor’s irreversible plight, not wanting to share her fate
He locked Eleanor out of their house and prayed for a miraculous restoration of Eleanor’s former living life every night.
After one week of Eleanor scratching and pounding on their front door,
Al missed her desperately, despite the deal breakers of her walking dead disease,
And still loving her like the in sickness and in health marriage vow they solemnly shared in a little Methodist church in Idaho
He opened the door and took her in his arms while she
Bit into his jugular and ended his free spirit life.
Somehow her romantic instincts, her wifely loyalty, survived her zombically deactivated mind.
When Al returned to life zombified, she kissed him on what remained of his face,
And they walked withered hand in withered hand to some distant neverland,
Proving even for the zombified – love can find a way.

Bob Boyd

Separation

They’d been together 44 years
until at age 70 when
her mind began to slip
and blanked out.

Then it became like
they were no
longer together –
she didn’t know him
anymore.

His heart broke at
her loss of memory,
her loss of self
recognition.

He still loved her, but
she no longer loved him or
knew who he was. Love was not
supposed to be like that.

Bob Boyd

Rasboras

Rasboras, rasboras, why is your species always on the bottom of my aquarium?
Plentiful food carefully scattered on surface of the aquarium, ignored by you.
How do you keep from starving? I never see you eat.
Since you remain alive and don’t get emaciated.
You must, no offense, be bottom feeders subsisting on fallen flakes from the surface table.
But why not go first class and swim to the top and enjoy the full buffet?
In truth, you’re a never ending submerged mystery to me.
Thought you’d be all over the tank like a bright tailed, rambunctious guppy.
You just scurry around barely above the bottom, otherwise you seem to be hiding.
A snail is more fun, a turtle more active. Maybe you’re just shy.
Despite those seeming drawbacks, you have an uncanny appeal.
Your swimming is unconventional, you dart instead of true swimming.
And unlike duller colored fish, you are an attractive strawberry color.
And I must admit in rare moments I do see you dart almost to the surface.
Maybe one of you is an anomaly or a rebel rebelling, who occasionally breaks free.
Fun to watch, cool to see, rasboras, rasboras.

Bob Boyd

Old Single Women Nonsense

Tired of old single women
I’m too old for their nonsense
lack the patience, won’t engage,
better an old monk poet,
and compassionate helper.

Sticking with poetry and Service —
loves of my life, writing poems,
helping people.

Blissful with the right woman,
finding one at my age,
risks of ongoing drama,
tensions, disappointments,
ripples in my unperturbed
tranquility.

I don’t take these women
seriously; some far too
young; some touched me,
as if interested,
means nothing,
foolish girly games
too old to play.

Having a quiet peaceful life.
raising the MGTOW banner
going full monk mode,
maybe better luck in
the afterlife, a soulmate
awaiting me, my heart,
my mind, free of the
old single woman
nonsense here.

Bob Boyd

A Good Catch

Leslie had no time for Winston,
His flashy cars, his inheirited wealth, his bragging
His big balance credit cards, his designer clothes,
Meant nothing to her.

Nancy, a different breed,
A keen eye for self-enrichment,
Saw the benefits, the monied life,
Overlooked the negatives, worth the sacrifice.

Leslie married a male social worker,
Who aiding the poor, the disabled, the elderly,
More about Service to others than the money.
They didn’t have the rich trappngs;
They had the true love.

Nancy married Winston, a lavish wedding,
Landed the big fish, mined the gold,
Lived the abundant, material life,
Got everything she wanted …
Except true love.

Bob Boyd

Aliens As Us In Time Machines

Consider the theory that aliens are the future us,
A curious evolutionary leap, more so than
Cro-Magnons to our current refined appearances.
Imagine future humans, theorized to look like this:
Reconfigured faces and bodies in a far future,
Larger heads, bigger brains, oval eyes, thinner bodies,
Navigating the past in saucer-shaped time machines.
Perhaps traveling back in time but for what,
An attempt to reshape humanity’s future
Stop a nuclear war that would kill off many of us?
And why so mysterious and obscure?
If the theory is remotely plausible
And speaking of time, maybe, as the saying goes
Time will tell.

Bob Boyd

Earth’s Burdens

As I grow older life speeds up as I slow down.
I imagine the planet spinning faster, unfelt by me,
Except for the faster time and my slower life.
Maybe me going slower to stay balanced in
The whirlwind cycles of impatient earth,
I imagine impatient to see another human gone,
A life spun away into an ever lighter corpse,
Less weight for earth to carry.
Another burdensome human gone,
The planet spins on.

Bob Boyd

Aliens Under The Sea

Aliens in spacecrafts
flying in and
out of the sea
real or utter bunk
credible witnesses
seemingly
but man made
or extraterrestrial
If aliens, grays,
tall whites
reptilians or
little green men?
An agreeable
mystery to me
I’m beginning to
like bizarre
theories and beliefs
Fills a little time
with fascinating
stories and claims
like all these Bigfoot
sightings with no
body alive or dead
and no irrefutable proof.
But back to seagoing
Alien air and sea crafts
Here’s another theory
maybe AI robots
collecting whatever
from the sea and
as unable to communicate
with us as a kid’s
windup toy.
Or maybe they’re
interdimensional.

Bob Boyd

Clinically Dead Never More Alive

Spoke to one of the post clinically dead
yesterday.

She can’t wait to go back to the Light
and the Love.

I yearn to go there too and experience
the wonders of the Light and the Love

beyond this often unfair, sometimes
dangerous, coin toss life.

Too many things in this impermanent
world I no longer like.

Let me fly to the higher one in a
heavenbound kite.

And bask in the Light of eternal
peace.

To live forever in the unimaginable,
the no one wants to leave it, the
unconditional Love.

Bob Boyd

Angela

At first you seemed angelic,
your face, your voice, even
your name.

But when you got
comfortable the darkness
crawled out of your soul.

Even your angel face
changed, eyes in unguarded
moments evil.

At times your voice
lost its sweetness,
sounded malevolent.

And you became
insanely jealous
of Gina, my coworker,

culminating in you
enrage and armed shooting
her and me at work.

I survived, Gina didn’t.
you vanished, and the
police learned

your MO was to get insanely
jealous and kill any
perceived rivals,

six in five states, reinventing
yourself with different names
and disguises each kill.

I don’t know it there’s a hell
but I believe you’ll be
somewhere like that

when you die, probably a
horrible death, and that’s
revenge enough for me.

Bob Boyd

Crime Show

At first phenomenal love
then nuptial bliss and two kids
years later passions refrigerated
boredom on front burner
dalliances, hers and his.

Affairs discovered
divorce lawyers consulted
custody battle for kids
bitter wife and paramour
plan permanent solution
kill husband get kids
and her insurance money
husband forgot to fix.

Met with recommended hitman
undercover cop.

Bob Boyd

A Granny Is Good Enough For Me

why you liking on grannies
benny said i said at 78 i’m too
damn old for pretty young things
you got to get realistic when
your testosterone is practically
on life support and your mojo
is nearly on empty and you ain’t
what you once was when you
could party all night and without
sleep work all day with barely
a yawn what do you want me
to do party all night and wreck
myself and be the no fool like the
old fool and be fooling myself
with a pretty young thing young
enough to be my granddaughter
hell at my old age even being
with a woman of 50 is like
robbing the cradle besides
with a cool granny I can
reminisce about woodstock
love ins psychedelic music the
peace and love days and
nights of the age of aquarius
the beatles white album
getting back to the garden
being bummed out turned on
and heavy and outasight
and groovy and going to
california with flowers in
our hair so give me a fine
as vintaged wine old granny
and let’s make rock and roll
love till those cows in woodstock
come home and those chickens
come home to roost – if we
can without busting hips
bursting varicose veins and
increasing aches and pains
excuse me gotta go late for
my hot date at the nursing home.

Bob Boyd

Male Actors With Ugly Wives

YouTube video entitled something
Like Male Actors with Ugly Wives
Insulting, unkind, cruel, and crass.
More like mature male actors with
Wonderful wives not self obsessed.
Beauty superficial, overrated
In a telling moment can lose
its superficial glitter
When an ugly personality
Lurks behind beautiful eyes.
And beauty soon gone with the
age erasing, impending years.
So called ugly wives a
better choice, more beautiful
In their own ways. Their inner
Beauty a constant, lifelong
Comfort to their husbands.

Bob Boyd

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