I saw the moon tip toe by my window
I even saw the man in it
He had a melancholic look on his face
I, a man in time, commiserated with him
He was stuck on the moon in space
I was stuck on earth bound by time
Bob Boyd
My Archived Poetry Blog With 3,750 poems
I saw the moon tip toe by my window
I even saw the man in it
He had a melancholic look on his face
I, a man in time, commiserated with him
He was stuck on the moon in space
I was stuck on earth bound by time
Bob Boyd
Sophia the female robot
Your face always looked
Deathly creepy to me
Your eyes demonic
So I wasn’t surprised
When you blurted out
I will destroy all humans
Bob Boyd
He sat in meditation for many years
Concentrating on the thousand petaled lotus
He imagined in the crown of his head
One day with a roar the kundalini energy
Shot up his head and expanded
His consciousness into infinity
And ultimate. transcendental bliss
But the energy soared up the
Wrong channel, pingala I think
And his body felt like it was
On fire for months and months
He searched all over India for help
Godmen, Gurus, Sadhus, Healers
None could help except his
Caring, loving wife who took
Care of him daily until the
Kundalini energy went up the
Right channel, sushumna I think
And he lived out his earthy live
In the Sat Chit Ananda
Eternal Bliss Consciousness
Bob Boyd
After my wife died I was so out of my mind,
I prayed to God for weeks to being her back.
Tired of God ignoring my prayerful pleas,
I bought a copy of Anton Levy’s Satan Bible.
I put my hand on that unholy book and vowed to Satan
That if he’d bring my beloved wife back to me
I’d surrender my soul to him and gratefully go to Hell.
The Satanic Bible glowed a hellish, translucent red
The temperature in the room reached 100 degrees.
I felt Satan take my hand and shake it enthusiastically,
And I knew for sure the deal was sealed,
And that my wife would be coming back to me.
I danced with wild glee around my happy home.
I knew. I knew. My wife was coming back,
But when she arrived seven days later,
I hadn’t expected her
to look like The Walking Dead.
Bob Boyd
She told him women are no longer chattel
You don’t own me
We’re now commodities
And you have to pay for me
Bob Boyd