Tired of his country’s dissolution
And the fake MSM propaganda
And all the disturbing news
He hightailed it to the mountains
Hid himself from the fractures
Of his country falling apart
And lived off the fertile land
Like a frontiersman of old
Hunting and fishing
And growing his own food
Oblivious to the outside world
Never read or listened to
The clamorous fake news
Had no internet
No radio or TV
Freed from the turmoil
Safe when the bombs fell
And decimated half of
His vulnerable country
And enemies took it over
Never affected by any of it
Died a free man
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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