Murderers, Rapists, and Pedophiles

Murderers, rapists and pedophiles, why do we have to have them in this world?
Why do all their innocent victims have to be subjected to such twisted horrors?
If God is love, where is the love in that?
And why is it even permitted in this world?
I can in no way fathom the purpose in that for anything Divine
Or any purpose for such infamy existing that harms so many innocents.
If I believed in a Satan that lures people into such heinous acts,
Then I could see the cause and effect and maybe understand it.
But even then, why would some have to be turned into monsters?
And why are some people born into this life as psychopaths?
You could say it is all about free will; people have a choice.
But what choice does a being have who is born a psychopath?

Bob Boyd

Author: BobBoyd

80, last Piscean month, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, long ago from MA. Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life, feeling fantastic and eternally youthful, always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional, some are not. I write about Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, Historical events like The Burning Times, Fictional Characters I Create, and much more . I write a minimum of 3 poems daily. View all posts by BobBoyd

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Enlightenment

White Light illuminates the darkness of the inner night.
To mystics common fare, to others never there.
One in whom the sun never sets sees it everywhere.

Bob Boyd

What Matters to Me

I don’t care how rich you are.
Riches mean nothing to me.
I don’t care how degreed you are.
You might think you’re better than me.
I don’t care how successful and important you are.
You might be too self-centered and have no time for me.
I do care about how humble, compassionate, and kind you are.
Those are the things that matter to me.

Bob Boyd

Heaven’s Hope

I cannot imagine 
a woman 
or a man
psychopath born
psychopath dead
cast into the
fires of Hell
by a loving
reasonable God.

If you believe
I’m wrong,
how can you 
account for a
God who’d send
a psychopath
into the world
without heaven’s hope? 

Bob Boyd

My Love

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

Pink Dogwood Tree Petals

In the yard across the street
Pink dogwood tree petals are falling,
Ordinary, a beautiful sight.
Tonight they sadden me
Remembering the last time I saw them
When you said you were leaving me.
Now like the pink tree petals,
Tears are falling from my eyes.

Bob Boyd

I'm in Love With a Witch

I don’t care if she is a witch
My pulse reaches a frantic pitch
When She looks into my stunned eyes
And her love above all I prize.

I don’t care if she casts a spell
That could send us both to hell.
For her love, I’d even go there,
For her love, I’d go anywhere.

Bob Boyd

Before the Big Bang

I loved you before the Big Bang
When the universe was born
Before the planets spun in
Vast galaxies 
Before the stars rose in
Night skies
And I know we are
Destined to be 
Reunited soulmates
In this life 
Or the next
This existence
Or the heavens

Bob Boyd

Terminal Zen Sickness

He studied Zen Buddhism.
Practiced zazen every day.
Chanted sutras every night.
Began meditating too much,
Addicted to the daily highs.
Developed Zen sickness
And lost his mortal mind.
Now imprisoned in an
Asylum for the insane.
Walks like a zombie,
His eyes forever glazed,
And mumbles fragments of sutras 
Inside his disordered head. 

Bob Boyd

Skylark

A skylark sings songs while it flies
I wonder what it’s singing about
Maybe the fun and the freedom
Of flying so high in the open free sky
Above the earth liberated from gravity
Above the planet’s cares and concerns
Maybe the skylark gets high when it flies
An intoxicating rush among billowing clouds
I’d like to feel what the skylark feels in flight
And sing like it high in the open free sky   

Bob Boyd

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