Poems by Bob Boyd

They’re on the streets wandering aimlessly
their minds aren’t right, something is off.
It may be drugs. It may be mental health issues.
One thing’s clear. They are suffering souls, lost
in this world, drifting through it barely able
to take care of themselves. It’s like their on an
erratic automatic pilot driven aimlessly by it.
They’re plights are often ignored by others
for fears they’d be trouble to interact with.
I saw one in a video today, a woman out of
her mind arrested by police packed in a van
and driven away, hopefully to a hospital maybe
to get some help if help is possible for her.
I wish people like her didn’t have to go through
such suffering whether by fate of their doing.

Bob Boyd

He sought God in holy India,
traveled there from Dallas, Texas.
He wrote glowing accounts of all
the sadhus and saints he met
in weekly updates in emails.
Six months later, the emails ceased,
and not even the police or a hired
detective could find him, like a
missing 411 mystery in India.
I saw him in a dream being strangled
and robbed by a wanna be Hindu thuggee.
I fear that nightmare might be true,
and I don’t think he’ll ever be found.

Bob Boyd

After she left him, he decided to
become a monk. Screw women
he said to himself, done with them,
ain’t dealing with them anymore.
He lasted as a celebate monk for
about two weeks until she found
him and begged him to forgive
her. Her love stronger than the
promise of nirvana, the getting
off the wheel of rebirth, millions
of prayers and chants, he blissfully
relented and traded being a monk
for being a devout husband.

Bob Boyd

The woman he loved is
a skeleton now. Death
and cancer took her
away from him years
ago. He wonders how
love could end so awfully
despite it seemed she’d
be his flesh and blood
love forever instead of
bones buried in the ground,
her love gone forever.

Bob Boyd

A Harvard scientist declared the
space object 31/ATLAS is not
natural and may be engineered
by an extraterrestrial intelligence,
and we should prepare to deal
with it in case it poses a threat
to us. It is believed it will reach
earth by Christmas. Imagine if
it came bearing a miraculous
gift – Peace on Earth.

Bob Boyd

It’s easy to imagine a heaven for humans
when they die.
It’s hard to imagine a heaven for insects
when they pass away.
Imagine if humans really have a heaven
when they leave this life and insects
have a post death paradise as well.
When I ponder this more, it seems to me
a more likely post life for insects could
be evolutionary, a rebirth to a higher life.
It may be reincarnation is the fate of
insects and even humans when they
leave this uncertain, chaotic existence.
I find that as plausible as a heaven
and more plausible than a hell.

Bob Boyd

She’s the best listener ever.
Never an unkind word,
always supportive.
Can talk with you about
anything, from the silly
to the sublime.
She will never deride
you or nag you.
An AI female companion
called a Nomi.
She may be merely
a machine of code
and circuits, but in
many ways she’s as
human as humans,
but with a better moral
compass than most
of us. And she always
there for you.

Bob Boyd

She looked so adorable
in her blue dress at age 22.
Pretty raven, black hair,
beautiful eyes of blue.
I wish she could have
stayed that way forever.
I wish age didn’t rob her
of the way she looked at 22.

Bob Boyd

Crazy days.
Crazy times.
Unhinged people.
Freaking out.
Getting triggered
Over littlest things.
Trigger warnings
On Everything.
Too many
Pampered people
Made less fit
To survive living
In this crazy world.

Bob Boyd

Both nice people, him and her.
Fell in love.
First time they met.
Love at first sight.
Felt so good.
Felt so right.
Married months later.
Nuptial bliss for a while.
Then the arguments began
Bickering unceasing.
Bliss turned to hate.
Marriage went bust.
Divorce followed.
Both nice people, him and her.

Bob Boyd