Category: Poetry

Yesterday in a news interview I saw Hilaria Baldwin
rudely say to her husband that she was talking not him
when he was saying something supportive about her.

To my surprise, Alec looked as humbled as a scolded child.
Alec Baldwin, who recently told a Trump Impersonator that he’d snap his neck if there weren’t cameras there.
And I’ve read about him going off on others as thought
he has a temper than he often cannot control

And, though I’m not a fan of his, I don’t blame him for
threatening the Trump Impersonator. The Impersonator went way too far, got too much in Baldwin’s face inappropriately, and taunted him about his accidental shooting of the set cinematographer with a prop revolver, as if he were a murderer.

As for Alec Baldwin looking like a scolded child and not reacting to what the media felt was rudeness by his wife, I can understand that.
It’s about the things you do and endure for real love.

Bob Boyd

The Bigfoot stories keep increasing.
Even scientists have joined
The chorus of believers.
And yesterday I heard Bigfoot
Described as a high primate.
When you spend some time
Reading and listening to the
Many alleged sightings and
The people reporting them,
It really makes you wonder
If somehow Bigfoot is real
And truly a high primate.
But with all those thousands of
Alleged sightings, it’s makes
Me wonder why there is no
Definitive proof. The only
Plausible explanation I can
Possibly believe is that
Bigfoot is interdimensional.

Bob Boyd

My friend Mark and I always wanted to try hunting
spirits with a spirit box in Green Hill Cemetery.

Mark bought a high quality spirit box that had scans
from 76 mHz to 86.9 mHz.

Properly equipped, excited, we snuck into the
cemetery late one night.

Mark turned the spirit box on. It crackled
and the spirits started poppin’.

But their voices came in spurts and were
not quite clear:

hello … no … yes … I’m here … dead …
not dead … yellow flower …. green grass ….

Then things got horrifying. The dead began
talking out of

Mark’s head, and Mark dropped the spirit box
and, screaming, fled to his car.

I grabbed the spirit box and tried to catch up
with him, but it was too late.

Mark had vanished somewhere into the
night and I couldn’t find him.

The next day I learned Mark had killed himself
by driving into a semi-trailer truck.

Because of the association of Mark’s death
with the spirit box

it took me a month before I could use it again
at Green Hill Cemetery.

When I turned it on that night, I heard Mark’s
voice: “It’s evil! It will kill you! Get rid of it!”

Shocked, terrified, I shut the spirit box off,
threw it away, and never went spirit hunting again.

Bob Boyd

Massive creature
Hairy and frightening
Half man half beast
Seven to 10 feet
600 to 800 pounds
Long arms long legs
Step length tracks
Between 4 and 7 feet
Bellowing screams
Moaning sounds
Walks upright
Prowls the mountains
Seeking prey
Hunts elk
Some claim it’s real
Some claim it’s not
Others allege they’ve
Seen it
So far no proof

Bob Boyd

The fan spins above my head.
The world spins beneath my feet.
And I start thinking about how
Black Elk, the Lakota Mystic,
said, “The universe is circles
within circles,” and I’m thinking
he probably was correct

as I consider how right now
planets are spinning in circles
in the cosmos and I wonder
if stars spin too. And I wonder
if the cosmos is really an ever
expanding circle.

I hear a slight whirr of the fan
and think about the music of
the spheres and if that and
the OM are related.

And I wonder if heaven exists
what kind of music people
hear there, and if circles have
any significance in that higher
world.

I awakening from my musings
and realize it’s time to feed the
fish in my fish tanks, whose
tanks are square, and I return
to earthly matters.

Bob Boyd

After spiritual energy awakened in me from the base of my spine to the crown of my head, I could feel the spiritual energy emanating out of highly evolved or enlightened beings in their photos, their videos, their written and spoken words.

This wasn’t a psychic power. I couldn’t do anything with it except perceive the energy like a receiver.

Once I was reading a book by a powerful spiritual master who was a Sanskrit scholar and an MD and whose path primarily consisted of a practice called Nada Yoga where you would meditate on the sounds in your head seeking enlightenment via the sound currents.

I was feeling his potent energy emanating out of the book, and all of a sudden a ringing in my ears accompanied the flow of energy, like an unexpected initiation into the spiritual master’s path.

I found the ringing disturbing, and it was unrelenting. I contacted the spiritual master for help with it.

He told me to come see him in upstate New York. I arrived at his ashram a day later and felt the pervasive abundance of spiritual energy that flowed from his powerful presence.

This spiritual energy was so powerful and pervasive that practically anyone would feel it, as is the case with enlightened spiritual masters or highly evolved adepts. They are like powerhouses of radiant, spiritual energy.

The spiritual master initiated me with a fire ceremony. I was amazed at how high staring at the fire made me. I’d read of yogis meditating on candles, but I never thought staring at fire could have such a potent effect.

After the fire ceremony, the spiritual master pulled a small stick out of his robe and tapped me on the head with it. And WOW! my consciousness was amped up a hundredth fold and I was spiritually higher than ever in my life.

The supercharged state was the result of a shaktipat where a guru by the touch of his hand transmits some of his energy reservoir into your consciousness like a small tuning fork being supercharged by a bigger tuning fork’s more powerful vibration.

I remained in the elevated state of consciousness on my drive home and throughout the night. It lasted for about eight hours.

The next day the ringing was gone.

Bob Boyd

They were the beautiful flowers
in the celluloid Hollywood fields.
Actresses I saw in so many movies
and all the time on television screens.

It seemed they’d be eternally beautiful
and young and lovely forever.
Now some of them are dead.
Now all of them are old.

And the beautiful flowers
in the celluloid Hollywood fields
have wilted into nondescript
elderly women whose looks
have faded away so much
you would never know how
amazingly beautiful they were
when they bloomed in the movies
and on the television screens.

Though the demise of their beauty
is just the natural effects of aging
and all flowers eventually fade,
it saddens me just the same.

Bob Boyd

Met Monica on a dating site. She made the
BS claim that she was Dracula’s daughter,
though she did have the required
Romanian accent or she was good at
faking it, and she wore the requisite
black cape.

And her canines did seem a bit too protruded.

As she talked dribble in a real or fake Romanian
accent, I was getting bored, had to leave

Just when I was trying to find an excuse to split,
my work friend Mark, who brags about
bedding 100 women, strolled over to the table
where I was sitting with Monica.

The way he was eyeballing her with what he
calls “his bedroom eyes”, I knew he wanted
her for number 101.

To my relief, he charmed Monica and didn’t
seem bothered when she told him
she was Dracula’s daughter. As the saying
goes, he was “keeping his eye on the prize”
and wasn’t distracted by her nonsense.

I took that opportunity to make my escape.

The next day Mark turned up dead, two
punctures wounds in his neck.

Not vampiric, the coroner deduced. He reported
Mark had been stabbed twice in the neck
with a poisoned needle.

Monica had vanished after that, maybe to eerie
Erie, PA, where she’d fit in, given her peculiar
propensities.

Days after Mark was waked and buried in
Green Hill Cemetery here in Greensboro, NC –

I saw him weird-eyed and hovering in the air
outside my second floor apartment bedroom
window minutes before the sun rose,
his canines a bit too protruded.

The sun rose and Mark was gone. Maybe I
was dreaming or seeing things, but I bought
some Vampire Off Spray at Ace Hardware,
just in case.

Bob Boyd

Rougarou, what happened to you?
Why do you attack Catholics?
And those naughty little kids too.
What is with those biased tactics?
Why can’t you do some social good?
Like a champion avenger
And be considered for sainthood
As a crime victim’s avenger.

Bob Boyd

Clouds rumbling
Lightning booming
Skies inflaming
Deadly winds blowing
Animals
Birds
Insects
Dying
Planet Earth flaming
Humans scattering
Screaming
Cars crashing
Buildings crumbling
The world dying
Alien Apocalypse destroying

Bob Boyd

When I listen to
the Capital Children’s Choir singing Viva la Vida,
in the YouTube video
embedded
to the right
of this paragraph

for reasons
I cannot fathom,
listening to them
singing makes
me teary-eyed.

And when the older girls
hit those higher notes
at 1:50 minutes,
to me, it sounds
like angels
singing in the heavens.

Bob Boyd

Though being alone can be lonely
without a love to share your life with,
whether you’re seventeen or seventy
or ever older, someone to love and
care about you through the highs and
lows of your life —

but for me being alone was advantageous
when a blood cancer tried to kill me three
years ago, and for reasons unknown to me,
I just didn’t care about the cancer or dying
and never had a day when I was sad about it.

If I’d had a girlfriend or a wife during that
year of cancer and many treatments and
the real possibility that the cancer was going
to kill me, I would have been worried about
the effects my cancer was having on her
and the real possibility of leaving her,
my love, forever, alone and without me.

But since I was alone, the thought that I could
die from the nefarious cancer did not bother me.
If death came, it was easy to let go when
I had no one who would be worried about me or I
would be worried about leaving.

One could think it would have been comforting
to have a girlfriend or a wife for support during
those times, but as you may have deduced by
the previous paragraphs, my answer is a
resounding no. It was easier for me to face that
unexpected cancer fate alone.

The only sadness I had was when I saw young
women in their twenties at the cancer center,
who at such a young age were stricken with
cancers.

And I imagined how horrifying it must have
been to be a young woman at essentially the
beginning of her life not knowing if she were
going to live or die, to live a full life, or
possibly be dead before she lived thirty
years of life. That to me was heartbreakingly
sad and so painfully tragic.

Bob Boyd

Dedicated earth angels helping the sick
Despite hard hours remaining angelic
Compassionately saving lives from dying
Never giving up on you, always trying
To heal your body with saintlike tenderness
Using precision, care, and benevolence
As surely as there is a number seven
There’s a special place for nurses in heaven.

Bob Boyd

There was a time when he feared
if death were an obliteration
and what was you ended forever.

Then he had an epiphany. If what
were me were ended forever,
there’d be no me to worry about it.

Though he read and listened to many
near death experiences, NDEs, in
books and in YouTube videos,
and saw common threads and
validations of life beyond this
existence

for reasons unknown to him,
he reached a place where if all
those NDEs were illusionary and
untrue, he didn’t care if what was
him would be obliterated and
gone forever.

Perhaps with age and living a
longer life filled with many experiences
and places, an equanimity, a Zenlike
acceptance, emerged into his
consciousness, and he realized that
if death were the end of him forever,
he just didn’t care about the possibility
of being obliterated any longer.

Bob Boyd

flying fiends
winged humanoids
malevolent and
terrifying monsters
with wings
like flying demons

Ozark Mountains
alleged to be
among their
haunts particularly
at Turkey Creek

they swoop down
from the sky
in a moment
and allegedly
it feels like
death is coming
from above

I find it hard to
believe in these
humanoid monsters

but many people
who seem sincere
and believable
attest to having
seen or experienced

these flying fiends
these terrifying
winged horrors

and I find accounts
of cryptids, monsters
and aliens fascinating
whether or not
they are merely
conspiracy theories

Bob Boyd

When I was a young man, I read about a guy
who toppled over his motorcycle in an accident
and landed on his head.

A doctor told him if he hadn’t developed his neck
muscles he could have been paralyzed for life.

Amazed at how neck muscles could be so
protective in accidents, falls or fights

I’ve been doing neck exercises for my neck
muscles dutifully for decades.

I also wanted an imposing, muscled up neck
like wrestlers have but ….

despite my decades of exercises and techniques,
it was non-respondent to my diehard attempts.

As a 6’ 1” slender ectomorph my genetics refused
to cooperate with my big neck-building ambitions.

At least my neck muscles are still strong, maybe
strong enough to survive a deadly impact

and despite my genetic limitations, I see progress in that,
and I’m satisfied my decades of efforts were not in vain.

Bob Boyd

Sometimes when
nights are stilled
and birds are hushed

I remember a woman
a caring social worker
who came with love
into my life

and left me when she
had a host of health
problems because
like a martyr she
didn’t want to burden
me with her sicknesses

in spite of our love
and my wanting to
stay with her and care
for her forever

and were I not so
battle hardened
in life and in love
when I remember her
and our lost love

I could cry as many
tears as there are
stars in the night skies

Bob Boyd

When I go to my death
no one will weep for me
which is the way I always
wanted it

When I go to my death
it will be the celebration
of my ashes
the end of earthly concerns
for my scattered remains

And by all things held sacred
I swear I will wholeheartedly
welcome what I believe will be
my ultimate awakening

Bob Boyd

I have seen too many true crime shows
where one spouse murders the other
sometimes surprisingly and shockingly
to me the murderer is the wife or someone
she hires or talks into killing her spouse

I write surprisingly because despite the
many cases to the contrary usually
I don’t think of the more nurturing and
fairer sex as capable of murder
or murderous thoughts that are more
likely and more common with men
and to me the fewer murders by wives
attest to my take on that

often when the killings are done by the
husbands they play the pathic part
of a bereaved, grief-stricken husband
instead of manning up and confessing

these cases I hate the most and
sometimes they make me feel angered
I cannot fathom how these husbands
can physically harm or diabolically
kill their wives they loved and married

the worst is when they cry on tv and
ask for the support of the public in
finding their wives’ murderers
and sob in front of the police during
lengthy interrogations

I find it gratifying when these monsters
finally get found out and sent to prison
hopefully for the rest of their lives

and to me if things in a marriage get
so bad that one spouse feels like
killing the other it’s time to say
goodbye and not do something crazy
that will end in shame and incarceration
and a stain forever on one’s soul

Bob Boyd

social media
sometimes a blessing
sometimes a curse
vast network
for socialization
can meet people from
all over the world
mostly good people
sometimes evil
unlimited knowledge
can learn practically
anything online
can expand your
mind and your world

sometimes a curse
bullied children suicides
catfishing and scams
pedophiles
sexual predators
scammers
twisted people
roaming social
media sites
and on dating apps

unwary people
scammed for thousands
some women looking
for love raped
after meeting
strangers on dating apps
on rare occasions
murdered

it seems everything
on earth is
or becomes
a combination of
good and evil

but one of the worst
cases of evil was
when evil trolls
kept emailing
a bereaved family
photos of their
daughter’s murdered
body who was
murdered by a
psycho she met
met online
who plastered
photos of her
dead body all
over the Internet

morbid photos
said to
have been
sent by a
community of
disturbed and
women hating
men called incels

Bob Boyd