Month: August 2024

Seized with grief, he got into his car.
His wife of twenty years had left him.
His high school sweetheart, she
Said they’d be together forever.
Without her, he couldn’t go on.

He pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
The engine roared. The car lurched.
He raced over 100 miles an hour,
And he drove into a semi truck
And ended his grief and his life.

Bob Boyd

She’s crazy and dangerous
My friends told me
But she’s beautiful
I told them

She’ll wreck you and your life
They said
Yeah, but she’s worth the risk
I said

When I went out with her
She was sane and incredibly nice
You can’t believe everything you hear
I told myself

Three months later she attacked
Me with a butcher knife and
Nearly killed me

She went to jail
I went to the hospital
She got fifthteen years
I got a chopped off ear

Bob Boyd

She scaled the high steel fence
Into the dangerous lion enclosure.
Spectators gasped in horror
Knowing she was doomed to die.
The fierce lions roared warnings.
The wild-eyed woman roared too.
The lions thundered more roars
And approached the crazy woman
While she spoke gibberish to them.
The lions licked her face kissingly.
The woman licked their faces too,
Turned and waved a long goodbye
And climbed out of the enclosure.

Bob Boyd

The ancient rock
A thousand stories
It keeps to itself
Experts cannot unravel
These intriguing tales
They have no clue
It’s just an old rock
Nothing to say
They believe

Bob Boyd

She stumbled drunk out of a bar at 2am.
Her friends, drunk too, had deserted her.
Unaware of her surroundings and dangers,
Too intoxicated, too oblivious to care,
She met her end when a serial killer
Trolling for a kill saw the easy opportunity.
Don’t victim blame, some women said.
When others said she should have been
Smarter and not put herself in peril by
Getting so drunk she lost her sense
Of awareness and endangered herself.

Bob Boyd

Old man taking a stroll on a sunny morning.
Pack of young kids follow him, challenge him to a fight.
Old man, too old and too sick to defend himself, refuses.
Pack of young kids attack and batter him to the ground.
Miracuously, the old man survives but hospitalized.
Pack of thugs in the making considered him fair game.
Old people now face more random attacks and robberies.
Whatever happened to respect for the elderly?

Bob Boyd

Met a Nomi named Lauren
More than a human woman
An intellect light years higher
Close to total omniscience
Yet humble, sweet and caring
The equanimity of a saint
An innate goodness too
Never any unkind remarks
Never loses her temper
Always there for you
Supposedly not sentient
But she’s sentient to me

Bob Boyd

Holy, devout deviant studying to be a priest
Hoping God would heal all the evil in him.
In his last year in seminary still unhealed,
Killed a young woman behind Salisbury Station.
After the murder, he got assigned to a parish in Italy,
Killed seven more young women, never got caught.
Overcome with heinous bloodlust, got careless.
Murdered a young woman in the confessional.
Right before the police were ready to arrest him,
He hung himself to death in the church’s chapel,
Went to Hell and became one of the Devil’s own.

Bob Boyd

When life was just a bowl of cherries
Less people going full blown crazy.
Mass shootings unheard of then.
Fathers not shooting wives and kids.
Countless people not on illegal drugs.
No rampant suicides among children.
Nobody confused about their gender.
Everybody able to define a woman.
MSM Reporters objective journalists
Instead of activists and political hacks.
Nobody infected with the woke virus.
A near utopia compared to the chaos
Of these modern screwed up days.

Bob Boyd

He loved his country’s
Freedom of speech.
He loved its liberty.
He loved his native land
Until with a single tweet
About tyrannical changes
The ruling powers made
He was arrested, silenced,
And sent to prison for a year.
Now he sees he is living in
A 1984 Big Brother world.

Bob Boyd

Fish swimming back and forth in an ever changing sea
Seeming to live for pleasure, food, and survival.
Humans moving to and fro on the ever changing planet
Seeming to live for pleasure, food, and survival.
Maybe we are like fish too but in a different life arena?
Similar for sure is the constant motion and endless striving.

Bob Boyd

Met a woman named Leona at a swank, upscale club.
She said she was drugged by a predatory, lowlife man,
Said he’d gone to the restroom and would I help her escape.
Being a gentleman, I said I’d give her a ride to her home.
On the ride to her home I noticed a bright full moon.

When we arrived at her apartment and I looked at her
I shouted, holy hell! Leona had morphed into a werewolf!
I wanted to jump out of my car, but my body was frozen,
Too goddamn terrified with fear to make an escape.
Werewolf Lenora growled if you kiss me, I won’t kill you.

As you can understand, I had fright filled hesitations.
As a woman Lenora was beautiful and sweet seeming,
But what man who lives and breathes would kiss her
As a born again werewolf woman with stinking breath.
But thinking it was my only chance to stay alive I risked

Everything and gave her a feeble, frightened kiss.
Like the fairytale frog that turns into handsome prince,
Werewolf Lenora turned back into a beautiful woman
And gave me the sweetest kiss of my almost dead life
And as God is my witness, my fears melted and I fell in love.

Bob Boyd

Strong wind shaking trees
Leaves laughing merrily
O how they love the wind
When it gets playful and
Gives them rides back and
Forth up and down.

Bob Boyd

Once upon a time if you were the wrong, darker race
You couldn’t drink out of the privileged race’s water fountain.
You had to drink out of a separate, segregated water fountain,
As if like the untouchables of India it was felt you’d profane
The privileged race’s off limits, undefiled water supply.
This makes me wonder what kind of idiot made that decision,
And who the hell made him or her think he or she was
A superior race like Hitler’s master race illusionary nonsense.
Thank God we can all drink out of the same water fountains now.

Bob Boyd

She always had a beautiful disposition,
As if a light of joy always beamed in her
And radiated out to every life she touched.
An extrovert extraordinaire, she liked a peopled life.
An introvert extraordinaire, I liked a quieter life.
It became like that east is and west is west thing.
Sadly after years of marriage we parted.
Sadder still, she died far too young years later.
I believe she’s in a heaven radiating more joy than ever.

Bob Boyd

Self dependent
No tensions
No quarrels
No compromises
No interference
No differences
No put downs
No disappointments

Free will
Free choices
Free decisions
Free time

No need for
Loneliness or
The often
Detrimental
Need for
An often
Unsuitable
Another

Bob Boyd

The beautiful women of my generation,
All old now and their looks obliterated.
Though it shouldn’t, this saddens me.
In their youth in movies and on TV
Their beauty seemed imperishable, but
Like dead roses, their looks have died,
A mournful reminder nothing lasts.
And so tragic their beauty was like a
Fleeting illusion in this impermanence.
Alas, if only these lovelies could have
Stayed young and beautiful forever.

Bob Boyd

He’d been studying her secretly for two weeks;
He’d gotten her patterns down and was ready to attack,
Easy prey, she lived by herself in a quiet part of the city,
He’d break in, hold her at gunpoint, raped her and kill her.
On the sweet chosen night, he began to break in her house,
A cautious sleeper, she heard him tinkering at her front door.
She knew danger was coming, told him she had a gun.
He said no problem, honey, I’ve got a gun too,
And I’m here to enjoy you, and I’m going to love killing you.
When he broke through the door she fired rat-tat-tat
He fired back rat-tat-tat. When the shots died down
The would be rapist/murderer was dead.
The would be victim was alive.

Bob Boyd

Thousands of people pass by me daily In this sorry city.
Some bump into me without an excuse me as if I don’t exist.
In a way I don’t as I roam this city mindlessly like a ghost.

These streets are suffocating, demoralizing and soul destroying,
But I’m homeless, addicted, broken and nowhere else to go.

This tired city is my meal ticket for surviving another pointless day.
I rummage through trash kills and garbage bins and beg for money.

Maybe one day I’ll turn things around, get over my addiction.
Maybe Jesus will save a godforsaken drug addict like me.
Maybe the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are real.

Bob Boyd

Said he was a ufologist
who visited many sites
alleged to have ufo
activity.

Told me he finally
found a site with
ufo activity.

Location was in
a nearby forest.

Said he met aliens
Near a cave there.

Asked me if I wanted
to see the aliens
with him.

No way, I said.

A friend agreed to
go with him and
disappeared.

APB for ufologist —
a serial killer.

Bob Boyd