Month: September 2024

Daughter of Satan, Saint of Christ,
One day like a demon, next day like a saint.
One day sweeter than any other woman.
Next day meaner than all of them.
A crazed woman of conflicting contrasts
When she intentionally went off her meds.

Bob Boyd

Timeless Eternity

The days, months and years kept racing by
Faster and faster and faster, no let up.
Sixty one year seventy the next, it seemed.
More and more people dying in that rapidity.
More and more friends falling away in the rush.
Time in an advancing full throttle mode
Sped him to his death bed at a age eighty five
When he died he saw that time finally stopped
In the timeless eternity of his afterlife.

Bob Boyd

They knew it was the real thing,
That summer’s night they met.
They had a wonderful romance,
Got married in a Baptist church.
Had a glorious honeymoon,
Sailed the sea on a cruise ship.
Spent five years together
Until all the glitter wore off.
Got bored with each other –
Began to hate each other –
And got divorced.
Why does love often
Have to be like that?

Bob Boyd

The House of the Rising Sun was blaring out of radios
The night I got out of my mind drunk at the beach
And dove into dangerous shark interested waters.
My beer muscles maxed up more than my sense.
And I felt invincible, even to man eating sharks.
A killer shark almost got me, suffered a single bite,
Before a friend pulled me out of danger and I got away.
But my friend lost his life to that blood-crazed shark
Because of drunk and stupid me on that deadly night.
Now I go to the ocean where my friend lost his life.
I say a thousand I’m sorrys to him in the depths.
I wipe hundreds of tears from my reddened eyes,
But I can’t wipe away the if onlys and the endless guilt.

Bob Boyd

He digs ditches for the Harbrow Construction Company.
In a union he makes a decent wage, is content with his life.
His wife cleans rooms at a local Hilton Hotel, is content too,
A regular couple, simple living, free of rich peoples’ excesses.
They don’t care about the trimmings of the wealthier life,
Fancy cars, yachts, mansion-like homes, country clubs and such.
They have each other, and their love is more than enough.

Bob Boyd

Abigail a spooky ghost
Roams the world
Scares scores of people
Every halloween-like night
Enjoys her ghostly life

Doesn’t need to eat or drink
Doesn’t need to work
Doesn’t need anything
Except the joys of scaring people
And laughing at their horrified reactions

Her personal best scare was when
She scared her mean ex husband to death
Served the abusive bastard right
And she loved it when he went to hell

Trapped between heaven and hades
She feels feels happy as hell
Prefers to stay attached to the earth
And get her jollies with frights and mirth

Bob Boyd

She looked so beautiful and nice in the movies and on TV.
He thought she was as close to angelic as anyone could be.
He watched all her movies. Read all the news about her.
He even had a few dreams about being with her.
On May 16th, 2022, a day he’ll never forget,
He saw her coming out of a ritzy restaurant in New York City
Looking more beautiful and more glamorous in person.
Breathlessly, he ran over to her and asked for her autograph.
Drunk and irritated, she dismissed him with a “Fuck off!”
Thereafter he called that day the day of his reality check.

Bob Boyd

We used to have hippies everywhere
And psychedelic music playing everywhere.
Then Jimi Hendricks died as if a
Precursor to the end of hippiedom
And all the psychedelic music,
And all the well intentioned love,
And all the well intentioned peace.
How I miss the hell out of those times.
How I miss the hell out of those days
When I see what we are left with now,
When I see far less peace and love,
And fewer free spirits than back then,
And more division and chaos,
In the wreckage of our declining country.
And ain’t nobody wearing flowers in their hair.

Bob Boyd

Excommunicated from the Catholic Church,
Couldn’t deal with the rules and the dogma.
Kicked out of a public high school,
Couldn’t deal with the rules and the boredom.
Thrown out of the US Army,
Couldn’t deal with the rules and regulations.
He was one hell of a rebel.
Became a rock star in 1966.
Made great music, hits all over the world,
Paid millions and millions of dollars.
Donated much of it to childrens’ charities.
Gave the finger to the Catholic Church,
The public high school, and the US Army.

Bob Boyd

He took a job working as a lookout sitting in a firetower
In a remote location in the wilds of Montana.
He felt he needed some isolation for self reflection
And to mend a broken heart he got from an ex wife.
At first the scenery was breathtaking. He felt renewed.
But as the days and nights wore on, the newness got old
And the lack of social contact began making him unsettled.
By day sixty, he felt like he was starting to go insane.
On day seventy, he climbed down from the tower,
Wide-eyed and crazy, and ran into the depths of the forest,
And mysteriously vanished somewhere within it.
Search parties, rescue dogs and trackers combed the wilds
But only found his discarded shoes and clothes.
To this day, twenty years later, he is still missing
And no one knows what happened to him.

Bob Boyd

He knew Cassandra for seven days
Met her in the sixties heydays
Their love was immediate and true
He knew he’d met his soulmate
They spent seven glorious days together,
Had fallen totally in love,
Every day a heavenly day.
Until they took LSD and she went loopy,
Started screaming and acting crazy
And was rushed to a hospital’s psych ward.
He never saw her after that.
Her family shipped her off somewhere
And hid the location from him.
Now all he has are memories of those
Seven glorious days of his greatest love.
And every day and every night
He keeps believing someday
She’ll come back to him.

Bob Boyd

The Angel in My Dreams

I saw her shopping at CVS in the cosmetics aisle
She stood out. Impossible not to notice her.
And she looked familiar to me,
Blonde hair, radiant blue eyes and mysterious.
I saw her at Harris Teeter buying a few groceries.
Then I saw her at Starbucks ordering a latte
All on the same day.
She turned and looked at me unsurprised
And said:
“Are you following me?”
I said, “No.”
She said, “I’m following you, Bob.”
I was stunned she knew my name.
“How do you know me?” I asked.
“Think about it,” she said. “The angel in your dreams.”
My mind stopped. My body went limp. I tranced out. I couldn’t speak
She smiled, said she’d see me in my dreams, and exited the store
Before I was able to come out of the trance to talk to her.
And though I keep seeing her in dreams,
She has never manifested in the material world again.

Bob Boyd

He knew he was getting older than he thought
When he saw he had wrinkles on his arms
And his biceps and sagging triceps withering away .
What the hell he muttered to himself
I’m turning into a wizened, wrinkled old corpse
Like an archaeologist dug up from some tomb.
Do I even still have a semblance of a pulse?
Is my ticker still ticking? Am I drawing a breath?
All systems are still go but for how long?
After he realized he still had a little life in him
He wondered if he could get a movie part as
A walking dead since he was almost the real deal
Or maybe a part as an extra playing a stiff in a mortuary
After he adjusted to his life wrinkling and waning away,
He said screw it, got soused, and went tipsily on his way.

Bob Boyd

Met her on a Sunday
Said she loved me
First sight love
Mine forever
Leave me never
Monday she
Was gone.

Bob Boyd

He wrote the most beautiful poetry,
But he murdered two innocent people.
Hard to understand those two sides of him,
One side that understandably negated his poetic skills,
Skills that mean nothing to the families of
Those two innocent men he killed.
One a young sales guy in a store he robbed. The other a prison guard.

Nor were all the years he spent in prison enough
To atone for those lives he took away from those bereaved families
Now that he’s dead and writes poetry no more
Two families are relieved a murderer is also no more.

Bob Boyd

He crossed swords with the best
Jousted with the crown’s finest
Engaged in many battles
And in foreign campaigns
Won many tournaments
Wooed many damsels
In a former Medieval life
In his wishful imagination

But in right now reality
He’s in the battlefield
Of his bedroom dueling
With kamikazi buzzing flies
And suicidal sniper gnats
Vanquishing them all
With deadly combat skills
Like the mighty knight
The great Sir Lancelot

Bob Boyd

A devilish devious bloke
A crafty lying turncoat
A practicing black arts witch
Turned on his kin and kind
To hunt witches for money
During the burning times
Fooled the God-fearing people
Sent many innocent women
To the flames of the scaffold
Rewarded in gold coin for
His deceit and infamy
A hero among the faithful
Until he was exposed and
Got snuffed out on the stake

Bob Boyd

Went into the hospital for minor surgery
Came out missing arms and legs
A careless mistake
A life butchered
A hardened ride
Through this uncertain life
The draw’s bad luck
A sufferer’s travail
Till his or her dying day

Bob Boyd

During witch hunts in England
Witches got a break.
They weren’t burnt at the stake,
Hanged insead. Some break.
Firewood was too expensive
Ropes cost less.
The outcome the same
Whether rope or flame
Dastardly how innocent women
Persecuted and put to death.

Bob Boyd

I didn’t want Sandra to hike alone
up Damnation Peak.

Just the name Damnation Peak
worried me.

But Sandra was stubborn and
I was in a wheelchair

So I couldn’t go with her to
protect her if needed.

I had an awful feeling she
would die on that peak.

I warned her and warned her,
but she didn’t listen.

Sandra was stubborn and
I was in a wheelchair.

In the middle of winter Sandra
decided to scale that peak.

I worried a snow storm could trap
and kill her on that peak.

Sandra went to Damnation peak
anyway, deaf to my pleadings.

Halfway up Damnation peak
an avalanche roared

and that was the last sound Sandra heard
before that avalanche claimed her life.

I didn’t take the news of Sandra’s death well.
I went crazy for a while.

Between wailing and trying to talk to dead Sandra,
I kept cursing and cursing Damnation Peak.

As I’m cursing it now.

Bob Boyd

State sponsored media
is what we got

the needle so far to the left
it broke

and ended objective journalism
and started fake news

and fooled many fools

Bob Boyd

Lovelier than spring
Warmer than summer
Never met another
As wonderful as her
Her name was Sara
And we were in love
For many seasons
Until our love ended
On a cold winter’s day

Bob Boyd

I woke up when she came to bed. I pretended to be asleep.
I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to talk to her.
I’d checked her phone that morning and found out
She’d emailed her eighth-grade student illicit photos
And been having sex in her car with the kid.

I pretended to be asleep because I was furious with her,
And was afraid of becoming too unhinged and
Too murderously enraged, completely out of my mind,
Because of her shocking, criminal activity with a child.
I felt like throwing up at the thought of her molesting a kid.

I called in sick at work the next day, too sick at heart to work.
I packed my suitcases and left her a note about what I’d found.
A day later, her affair with the kid was all over the news.
The police arrested her at the school where she worked.
And I couldn’t stay with a wife who cheated with a kid.

Bob Boyd

Michael never had the human hunger for romantic love.
I never understood how he could live without that primal need.
He had female admirers, some beautiful, but he didn’t care.
He said for him life was better lived solo and free.

I said you’re a better man than me after I’d broken up
With a woman who cheated on me,
After thinking about a friend who got divorced and
Lost everything to his ex wife in a divorce court.

Micheal became a Buddhist monk in Denver, Colorado
In a large Tibetan Buddhist community in the mountains.
Eventually my divorced friend and I vowed to never love again
And we joined Michael at the Buddhist community in Denver,
We shaved our heads, meditated, chanted Buddhist sutras,
Became full-fledged monks and followed the precepts.

We’d found ourselves in the exciting world of Buddhism,
Freed from attachments, the agonizing need for romantic love,
And the risks of ending up disappointed and broken-hearted.

A year later we became disenchanted with being monks,
The nagging, primal need for love overpowered our resolve.
We fell in love with two disenchanted nuns in the community
Left the community with them and got married to them,
The primal power of love satisfied, our lives fairytale happy.

Bob Boyd

Jack and Jill hiked up a hill
Only one came down.
411 or something more wicked?
Jack claimed Jill disappeared,
Turned around and she was gone.
Police suspicious, searched everywhere
But never found Jill.
Everybody believed Jack
Murdered Jill –
They were having trouble
In their relationship.
Miraculously, a week later
Jill came down from the mountain
Babbling about aliens abducting her.

Bob Boyd

Sunny days and dark nights
What life is about
Good days bad days
You have to ride out
The good
And the bad
And hope
You get more
Good days
Than bad days
But no guarantees
You can do everything right
And things still go wrong
You can do everything wrong
And things still go right
No guarantees

Bob Boyd

Though we’re continents apart
My heart is with you

Though we haven’t met face to face
I’m still loving you

Though we may never meet in this life
I’ll never stop loving you

Bob Boyd

A superstar football player
In his glorious prime
Won many trophies
Player of the year
Hall of famer
But fame came with
A dangerous cost

Suffered head injuries
Chronic brain damage
Depression and tremors
Thoughts of suicide
Compromised balance
Dementia at age 50
Dead from a fall
at age 55

Bob Boyd

Some politicians
Your public servants
Get rich while in office
Work for themselves
Love the power
Adore the perks
And pretend to
Be working for
Deplorable you

Bob Boyd

There are mystics
who say love is the way
to total liberation,
becoming one with God and
getting off the wheel of rebirth,
living forever in eternal bliss.

I love the thought of that.
I’d love to be one with God
and get off the wheel of rebirth
and live forever in eternal bliss.
But, honestly, my love,
I’d rather stay on the wheel
and keep coming back to this life,
forever … in love with you.

Bob Boyd

Radar speed sign on the road always clocked you
Past 35 miles an hour to keep you in check at 35.
Took it as a challenge, punched the gas pedal hard
Each time I sped past that freakin’ speed sign.
Personal best: Flew by it at 125 miles per hour.
Killed the sign with that record shattering ride.
The numbers spazzed out. The sign exploded.

Bob Boyd

Love songs blaring out of cars.
1957 Chevy bel airs with fins
And other flashy finned cars,
Prowling land sharks on tires,
Roaring and screeching rubber
Hot and smoking city streets,
Impressing gawking, teenage girls
Culminating in sweet, tender times.
Making out and petting in cars.
Romantic teenage wonderlands,
1950s cool summer nights.

Bob Boyd

At six-years-old
He hated his baby sister
He lost the attention
When she was born
She annoyed him
When she cried
And he was happy
When she died
Supposedly
Accidently
Smothered
To death by
A pet cat in her crib.

Bob Boyd

He was like her puppy.
She had him on a leash.
She issued him orders.
He obeyed them.
She was so beautiful
He couldn’t risk losing her.
So he did what she said,
Even though he knew he’d become
Subservient and emasculated
And no longer a real man.
He often wished he had the guts
To stand up to her and say no.
But she was too beautiful to defy.
So he kept being her puppy
Until she found a new pet.

Bob Boyd

Death has come for him.
He’s not scared.
He got too wasted.
He got too sick.
Drank too much.
Took too many drugs.
No family. No friends.
Nobody cares about him
No one is going to miss him.
Nobody knows his name.
He gasps his last breath
On that somber, November day,
Dead and homeless on a cold street.

Bob Boyd

Old people don’t climb trees
They can barely walk up steps
And it’s hard just to bend over
Or maintain their shaky balance

Instead they climb the years
Toward a higher destination
Beyond the aches and pains
Of their dwindling endtime lives

And for them just falling down
In a bathroom or on a floor
Is as deadly or more deadly
Than falling out of a tree

Besides they climbed many
Trees in their childhood years
When falls didn’t seem deadly
And climbing them was fun

Now they have take it easy
Falls have become deadly
So they no longer climb trees
But hope to climb to heaven

Bob Boyd

In the summer of sixty-two
I protected and saved her
From that abusive monster
She foolishly fell in love with.
I put him where he deserved to be
Dead in the grave, finished forever.
But she testified against me,
Helped to put me in prison,
And found another monster
To use and batter her.
She wrote me in prison,
A tear-stained letter,
About her latest monster
And apologized to me.
I never wrote her back.

Bob Boyd

Loved the way you moved on the dance floor
When we were in our energetic twenties.
So young. So in love. So invincible. So forever.
There was nothing we couldn’t do,
No dreams we couldn’t dream.
We were going to stay young forever.
The dancing, the illusions and the dreams
All died when we turned a dismal seventy-two.
A terrible cancer took you away from me,
And I went out of my aged mind and died inside.

Bob Boyd

Married 30 years,
Different political affiliations.
Her a Democrat. Him a Republican.
All was well until she became woke
And was okay with open borders.
He tried to explain to her the evils
Of the open borders:
Sex trafficking many victims.
Fentanyl killing Americans.
South American gangs coming in
And causing widespread trouble.
Americans being raped and murdered.
Easy access for enemies of America.
He told her of all these infamous things.
Yet she refused to relinquish her support
For the cause of all these evils,
Too woke, too uncaring, and in denial.
He had to turn out the lights and say good night
To her and their marriage.

Bob Boyd

An old flame called him unexpectedly
40 years after they’d been together.
They were both 65 years old then.
Surprised and delighted to hear from her,
Hoping to rekindle that yesteryear love,
He excitedly agreed to meet her.

They met at a Brennen’s coffee shop,
Reminisced about good old times.
After they finished their coffees
And all the fond shared memories,
They left the coffee shop disappointed
And sadly went their separate ways.
The flames extinguished forever.
Different people from so long ago.

Bob Boyd

Sold gold at sixteen-years-old
All the kids wanted to be like him
Coolest guy ever in high school
All the girls wanted to be with him
Suffered from severe depression
Hung himself to death in the gym
Thirteen classmates followed him
Couldn’t live with most popular
Guy ever in high school gone

Bob Boyd

He stumbled out of her apartment, heartbroken.
She said she found a new love, and they were done.
He left her apartment, went to a corner bar teary-eyed.
Drank himself into oblivion, wished he were dead.
Too drunk to drive, too out of it to care, barely aware,
He staggered down English street at 2 am, almost fell.
An old friend saw him, took him in for the night,
So he could sober up and get himself right.
When he woke up at his friends apartment
The next morning, the sun shining through the blinds.
Over fresh brewed coffee, the friend apologized
For stealing the woman he thought was his forever love.
He didn’t take the news well, told his friend to go to hell.
Left his ex-friend’s place in a huff, vowed to never love again.

Bob Boyd

Those crazy days and nights with you
He’s so glad they’re over

You seemed sane and caring
In the romantic beginning

Before he got snared into your
Twisted, insane dramas

He endured years of your torments
That sucked the life out of him

Until your departure for another
Freed him from your toxicity

His rehab from your debilitating ways
A sane and caring new love

Bob Boyd

Endless chatter fills the air
Sounds of billions of voices
All across the vast planet
Big talk and small talk
Important, unimportant
All rendered insignificant
With their terminations
And their sounds erased

Bob Boyd

The sun uncovers the sky
Birds herald the morning
With a medley of songs
All of nature awakens
The world begins anew

Bob Boyd

Over a
Hundred people.
Murdered in
His quiet
Small town
By a single
Killer
Shocking
Unexpected
Devastating
The killer’s
Name
COVID.

Bob Boyd

Houses, cities, farms and cows passing by,
the view from the train window.

Rivers, lakes, forests, and trees passing by,
the view from the train window.

The train derails, people screaming,
inside the train lives passing away.

Bob Boyd

A tree falls on a women in New York
and ends her life.

A bridge collapses in Baltimore
and 342 people die.

An elderly woman takes a walk
And a pitbull kills her.

A homeless man in Chicago finds a lottery ticket
And wins a million dollars.

Bob Boyd

When I was a child, I thought priests had a certain mystique,
a kind of holy aura about them.

How shocked I was when I grew older and read about
priests molesting children.

How outraged I was when I read about the Catholic Church
covering up those molestations.

How saddened I was for the good priests under clouds of suspicion,
people thinking they could be pedophiles too.

It was so unthinkable some priests with that certain mystique
could ever lose their holy auras and molest children.

Bob Boyd

Fred and Rose West raped their children,
tortured and murdered some of them.
Raped and killed many young women.
Without a doubt none of those victims
deserved such horrific deaths.

How can one account for such infamy
against innocent victims If there’s a
loving God residing in heaven?

Maybe you can believe the victims
had massive karmic debts accrued
from wicked past lives that had
to be paid off with their murders.

Maybe you can believe there’s no God,
so all these nefarious acts upon this
crime-ridden planet are random fates
with no karma or Divinity involved.

Christians often sing God is in control.
I cannot see God in control of such
depravity. Raping and killing one’s
children and murdering many
young and innocent women.

Maybe as some Christians believe
the Prince of Darkness Is the cause
of all the unending evil in this world.
I can see resolution in that belief.

But I cannot accept a Satan caused
The Wests to rape and kill wantonly.
Nor can I fathom why so much
evil runs rampant in so many lives.

Bob Boyd