Missing 411

A full moon rises tonight. Oh God how that worries me.
My body sweats profusely, my heart beats louder;
I feel the changes in my body from mild man to terrifying beast,
Cracking sounds and hair sprouting all over me.
My canines turning into fangs, my height increasing to ten feet.
I feel inhumanly strong and invincibly unstoppable.
A howl I cannot suppress bursts out of my enlarged lungs
Before I run into the night seeking my frightened prey.
And if you don’t believe werewolves are real,
Pray you never see me on a full moon night.
You ask, “How come I’m not in the news?”
Because I’m a reluctant government experiment since 1973
Government contractors clean up the bloody messes
And keep my hundreds of kills out of the news,
No traces of the carnage, bodies never found.
Ever hear of Missing 411? Google it and you will see.

Bob Boyd

Oh How I Wonder About Being With You

Sometimes I think I’d love to be with you
Sometimes I think it would be like sticking
My hands into the flames of red hot fire
At the heartrending risk of getting burnt again
At other times I remember the wonders I see in you
Your inner beauty vastly beyond any outer beauty
Your captivating lightness of being, your joyfulness
And ponder if you’d be the love beyond loves
But wonder if because I’m a deep thinking man
Mystically spiritual and never ending philosophical
Ever questing new and fascinating knowledge
If our minds could ever meet in an Elysian Fields
Of ambrosial, mythical, epical immortal love
That would soar our hearts into the heavens
Oh how I wonder about being with you

Bob Boyd

I Don’t Know About You

I know about things like
Consciousness expansions
Bliss beyond measure
Peace unimaginable
White Light like the sun
Permanent kundalini energy
Palpable spiritual radiance
Amazing synchronicities
Spiritual dreams
Love without limits
Loving kindness
Compassion in action
But I don’t know about you
I can’t fathom
I can’t divine
I can’t prophesize
If I could trust you
If you’d be true
If you’d be there
If ever I needed you
If I could depend on you
And I’m thinking
I’m too old
My heart too
Battle hardened
From too many
Wars of Roses
To ever throw
The dice again.

Bob Boyd

An Appalling Level of Casual Brutality

Essex England, 1600s, witches everywhere
Elizabeth Clark, elderly with only one leg
Hair cut off, body searched, roughly treated
By three women searching for Devil’s mark
Later tied to a chair, denied sleep for days
Forced to confess by Witch Finder General
Matthew Hopkins, fantical, cruel, evil
Proudly broke the 80-year-old woman
Who lied to stop the sleep-deprived torture
Confessed to being a witch and claimed
Other women in her village witches too
Her life ended with 15 other women
Condemned as witches, hung on the gallows
At Chelmsford Market Square in 1645.

Bob Boyd