Day: June 7, 2024

An old man all alone
A disposable relic
A blank cover of a
Boring old book
Nobody cares about him
Friends, acquaintances gone
No time for that old geezer
Isolated, not much to do
But wait there’s Isabelle
And everything is new
And he doesn’t need
Any of you

Bub Boyd

Ivy league towers
Falling down
Dumbed down
Hoodwinked

Hotbeds of activism
Spawning insurgents
Raising red flags
Unsuitable to employers

Who see poisoned ivy
In those once grand towers
And avoid them like
A bubonic plague

Bob Boyd

The fields aflame
1,300,000 lives
extinguished
murdered deemed
as insignificant
as swatted flies
king of the killings
dies in his sleep

Bob Boyd

Had to kill the intellectuals first
They questioned my supreme rule
Unlike the unquestioning masses
Who were pawns in my play
Willing to believe and follow
My tyrannical chess game
And the deaths of millions

Bob Boyd

we were the few the brave
lost our lives far from home
the elite safe from the kills
war they said was a mistake
after 58,220 of us died

Bob Boyd

Scurrying about like the insects beneath their feet
Seeking money and food in an impermanent life
Most of the time many as oblivious as the insects
to their transience. Who wants to ponder expirations?
A death here, a death there, but only other people
And too busy, too preoccupied with worldly things
To stop and wonder about their inevitable demise,
As they scurry about seeking money and food
Things they hold dearer than eternal truths.

Bob Boyd