Little Red Riding Hood strolled through the forest
on her way to her grandmother’s house
with a basket full of wine and cake for her grandmother.
When she arrived at her grandmother’s house
something was off. A psychopathic, crossdressing wolf
lay in her grandmother’s bed dressed as her grandmother.
Little Red Riding Hood blew a gasket knowing the wolf
slaughtered and ate her grandmother and had the gall
and the stupidity to pretend it was her grandmother.
She pulled her sawed off shotgun out of her robe
and blasted that goddamned wolf to pieces.
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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