Month: August 2024

Men’s designer shorts costing over
Seven hundred dollars
Essentially for the name on them
Maybe if you’re rich and
A status concerned sort
It’s all good and okay
But even were I rich
Never would I pay
An insanely exorbitant price
For a freakin’ pair of shorts

Bob Boyd

Too many times he squandered his heart pointlessly,
Might as well have thrown it into the seas of infinity,
Battered and bruised as it was in the wilds of the world.

Suffered through may broken hearted seasons,
Many fairy tale loves false, fractured delusions.
He wondered how his heart survived them all.

In the winter of his gray-haired, crumbling years,
Withdrew his heart from pointless, romantic pursuits,
Lived out his life a hermit, his heart unbroken.

Bob Boyd

She sold her body in the streets
Starting at only sixteen years
At a used up age twenty-six
One night one of her johns
Beat her so badly she died
Temporarily in the ICU
While on the exam table
Her spirit rose above her body
Into the white light and the
Care of the Unconditional Love
That NDEer’s call the Source
Returned to life a new person
Became like a reborn saint
Stopped selling her body
Spent the rest of her life
Saving troubled young girls
Selling themselves in the streets

Bob Boyd

Her husband went to war in Iraq
Like a good wife she waited for him.
Got too lonely after a long year.
Met a nice man with a good job.
Too lonely to resist the temptation
Of a romance to cure loneliness,
Fell in love with the nice man.
Wrote her husband a Dear John
Told him she wanted a divorce.
A week later he wrote her back,
Said he couldn’t live without her.
Not too long after that letter
He was blown to bits in the war.

Bob Boyd

He lost his high paying job
at age fifty five.

Supposedly not because
of age discrimination.

Supposedly it didn’t exist
for all the older people
who’d been axed from their jobs.

He couldn’t get another
high paying job,
Settled for a threadbare,
forced retirement.

Bob Boyd

Attended an open to the public
Hare Krishna dinner once in
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Liked the devotees
Their devotions
Their chanting
And their food

Didn’t like the dogma
Krishna was the only way
And Krishnaloka was the
Ultimate heavenly state
Where you had to
Strive to be forever
Otherwise you were lost

Was surprised at that
Hinduism is accepting
Of other religions usually

But maybe all those only ways
Are all completely right
and are each separate
Only ways In the mix
Of many paths
To the mountaintop

Or maybe all the only ways
have their own only way
heavens like the
Biblical many mansions
Kapish, Kemosabe?

Much respect to
The Hare Krishna’s
Esteemed founder
A.C. Bhaktivedanta
Swami Prabhupada
Unlike many gurus
Never a breath of a
Scandal about him
Seemed genuine
And saintly

Bob Boyd

Mel had an aunt he called an ant
Why he called her an insect
Is baffling to yours truly me
She hailed from Billings, Montana
Mel said she was like Bonnie
From Bonnie and Clyde

Robbed banks with a shotgun
And hand grenades strapped to her
A female bandito first class
A public enemy, never caught
Pictured on post office walls
So he claimed

When she came to visit him
She was just a gentle, little old lady
Probably not taller than five feet
And weighing in at a mere 90 lbs
Harmless and too frail for
Bank robbery and such
I called Mel out for his nonsense
He still claimed it was true

After his aged aunt or aged ant
Went back to Billings
The news on TV reported
Three local banks had been robbed
By a masked old lady with a shotgun
and grenades strapped to her

I still can’t believe she did it
I can’t believe it’s true
After all we’re living
In an era of fake news
And maybe jokester Mel,
Paid serious money for
Some news report fakery

Bob Boyd

If the beginning of life was cooked in a primordial soup,
Does that suggest God is some kind of celestial chef?
Or was he/she/it or whatever a bad short order cook
When serial killers, psychopaths, sociopaths and jerks
Eventually slithered out of a badly cooked primordial soup?
Did God mess up the exact ingredients for the best soup?

Or did that no good, rascal Satan spoil the soup when God
Had to take a bathroom break in the heavenly rest rooms?
Going with the saying, “God doesn’t make mistakes,”
I can’t see any other plausible reason for the soup screw up
Except for meddlesome Beezlebub mucking up the ingredients.

You’re thinking God would know his soup was messed with
Because God is all knowing and knows every little finite thing.
But maybe God was distracted on that fateful creation day
With a billion more important things on his infinite mind
And he thought rascal Satan was just burning happily in hell.

Bob Boyd

When Samuel traced his family tree extensively
He learned he had an evil grandfather named Paradox,
A serial killer who killed hundreds of people in his forties,
Most of them women, some of them little children.
Samuel decided he needed to erase that family infamy
And heroically save all those women and children

Using a time machine he and other scientists invented,
His mission to kill Paradox before he killed his victims,
He and his crew successfully landed back in time
When Paradox was just a budding teenage killer.
After Samuel ended Paradox with a bullet to the brain
Samuel and generations of his family vanished.

Bob Boyd

She drained him of all his vigor
She seemed to thrive on drama
He read couples were healthier
Than solo singles but doubted it
Based on his tensions with her
Yet he just couldn’t leave her
And she just couldn’t leave him
Better miserable than lonely
After hundreds of arguments
And sky-high levels of stress
He died of Stage IV cancer
Done at age forty-three

Bob Boyd

Caril Ann, pretty as a petunia
Sweeter than cane sugar
Barely a teen, wholesome and nice
Intelligent and well liked
Probably would have had a great life
If she hadn’t hooked up with
That Starkweather fella

Bob Boyd

He often felt like just a puppet in this world
With some unknown force pulling his strings.
He was more correct than he knew.

Aliens were programming his life
From a far off planet with mind-blowing technology
In an experiment to see if they could invent a human
And have it interact in the world like real humans.

As some experiments fail, there’s went terribly wrong,
And he went badly rogue beyond the aliens’ control
And raised his arm and yelled Sieg Heil!
And millions died unmercifully.

Bob Boyd

Born inbred in September of 1945.
Died of Huntington’s disease in 1995.
I used to cry and pray to God and ask:
“Why did I have to be born inbred?”
“Why couldn’t I have had a normal healthy life?”
When I died, the inbred related deformities
Didn’t follow me to the other side,
And now I lead a normal, healthy life
In one of God’s many mansions.
And I understand why I was born inbred
For complicated reasons I cannot reveal.
Where I am now, the thoughts and
The words about it cannot come out to you.
I can say this. Despite the inbreeding,
And the suffering I endured on earth
I’m okay now and everything is wonderful.

Bob Boyd

1956 Packard Caribbean Coupe
Classic car, hot vintage look
Dover White, Naples Orange
And Corsican Black colors
Creamsicle colors with a
Black trim highlight, so cool
Only 65,000 original miles
3 speed automatic, overdrive
8 cylinder powered engine
Creamsicle-colored upholstery
Only 263 produced back then
$39,900 justified price tag
Sweet dream antique car
Probably a great ride

Bob Boyd

I must stop reading the news everyday
Too many people dying in awful ways
Too much bad and depressing news
A once powerhouse football player has ALS
A 5 year old child killed in an airborne bounce house
A pretty mother of two killed in a cycling competition
I’m beginning to feel as if I need a Godlike mind
To handle all the misery, warnings and woes
In the everyday bad news nowadays
Maybe it’s time to take a news fast

Bob Boyd

Her husband thought she went shopping too much.
He didn’t realize to her it was like shopping therapy.
It filled some emptiness within, made her feel better.
And they had more than enough money to afford it.
And many in her position, women and men
Would be the same, like Christmas every day.

Some would say she is too materialistic
In her constant need to buy more stuff.
But she’s harming no one in her shopping sprees,
And as long as she isn’t breaking the bank,
And it makes her feel better, why not?
Were I her and money wasn’t a problem
I’d probably be doing the same.

I’d probably start with a giant aquarium
And homing pigeons galore flying in circles
Above a castle in the country, maybe with a moat.
And probably a hot trophy wife for appearances,
Who otherwise wouldn’t be with old, wizened me,
Too old and and not monied enough to afford her.

And some high dollar, coiffured, pedigree dogs,
Maybe a $10,000 pampered, pedigree cat.
Oh yeah, a personal chef and barber too,
But wait! Already I’m breaking the bank,
And this poem is not supposed to be about me.

Bob Boyd

Seems every week something else gives you cancer
Seems this wretched disease keeps gaining ground
It’s like a never ending plague that keeps spreading
That kills over 600,000 people in the USA yearly
Tragically it’s even killing more young people now
And God Almighty why are some babies born with it
You’d think by now there’d be a cure for cancer
A pill or an injection or a procedure that could end it
At least progress is being made in the fight against it
Cancers that used to kill are now sent into remission
Still every week it seems something new causes it
And the grim reaper never had a better friend

Bob Boyd

He met an attractive woman named Janice
At the Pisgah Church Harris Teeter grocery store.
She was slim, comely, blonde hair, sweet smile.
The day was raining; lightning boomed in the sky.
She said she had taken a bus to get to the store
And would he be a gentleman and give her a ride home?
He complied, and after about twenty minutes she got out
In front of an eerie-looking cemetery.
Having heard about many urban legends,
He thought she’d be a ghost and vanish, but
Then he woke up and realized it was merely a dream.
The next day he went to Harris Teeter and saw Janice there.
When he told her about the dream, she said, “Is this a pick up line?”
She gave him a dismissive look and in a huff strolled away.
But then she came back laughing and said she had the same dream.
A romance ensued, and they got married in Harris Teeter.
But six months later, Janice died unexpectedly and is buried
In the cemetery he saw in the dream.

Bob Boyd

Tired of women,
He became a monk
But he fought every
Day between prayers
His need for a woman
In his lonely life
He thought he could
Defeat what he was
Hardwired for
Despite his determined
Intentions in the end
He met a nun and
Both hardwired they
Renounced their holy vows
And took marriage ones

Bob Boyd

Full moons had a strange
lunar effect on him.
He wasn’t a werewolf.
He didn’t go bat crap crazy.
He didn’t go temporarily insane,
Or maybe he did a little.
When the moon was full he
claimed to have lived on it
In a long ago former life.
He said the moon had been
Populated millions of years
Ago by inhabitants like him.
He did look a little weird;
So it almost seemed true.
And during those full moons.
He would talk In a strange
language intermittently
Unlike any language on
earth which made you wonder.

Bob Boyd