The Flatwoods Monster

Hey, Flatwoods Monster where are you from
And would you like some sweet bubble gum?
I’m from a planet called Ackernum
And too classy to chew bubble gum.

Really, Sir, did you have to go there
As if a conceited royal’s heir?
You nailed it, a royal heir I am
Soon I’ll be His Majesty King Sam.

So bow down to me you silly knave
Before I make you my earthling slave
And stuff your bubble gun down your throat
And feed you to the crocs in my moat.

Bob Boyd

Reclusive Champ

In Lake Champlain Vermont
lives an elusive sea monster
named Champ first seen
in 1609 and 299 times
after that reputedly.

Like many cryptids Champ
is a champion at hiding;
Many alleged sightings
But no proof.

Wouldn’t it be amazing
if one day Champ made his
debut and wowed the world
as a throwback to
prehistoric times.

And since no mate
has been seen
Champ must be
centuries old with an
anti-aging formula
as yet unknown.

I’d like it if Champ
came out of the lake
and declared his
authenticity to the world.

But somehow I suspect
from watching many
monster movies
that day would be
a bad day For Champ.

So I can understand him
staying out of the media
glare, being reclusive.
Because I’m reclusive too
and wouldn’t want all that
annoying paparazzi attention.

Bob Boyd

I Hated Arthur Koski

My parents always said why can’t you be like Arthur Koski
As if he was some kind of sainted kid above wrongdoing
And I was some kind of ne’er-do-well loser who always screwed up
I hated that ideal Arthur Koski and his supposedly perfect ways
When I dropped out of high school and Koski made the honor roll
My parents threw that in my face and kicked me out of the house
Years later that perfect Arthur Koski became a Catholic priest
I became a grunt working whatever construction jobs I could get
No doubt my parents would have said why couldn’t I have been as pious and as educated as Arthur Koski
I lived a common life with a good woman, made enough money to get by, and never got in trouble
Arthur Koski, on the other hand, was arrested for molesting altar boys
If I were less a man and vengeful, I would have said to my parents why couldn’t Arthur Koski have been like me?

Bob Boyd

Under A Blue Moon

Through fires, smoke, the stench of bombs, the moon was blue
Alone, dazed, shell shocked, grieving, my heart was too.
But that’s understated, my heart was shattered, my life destroyed.

They bombed the hell out of my beautiful city and killed my Anastasia
My sweet angel, my love who had accepted my proposal of marriage
Before the bombs fell and turned the city and our love into rubble
My world in a war without her a godforsaken, war-torn hell.

Crazed with rage I march into battle to avenge my sweet angel
Anastasia.
Nothing left, my life over, like an insane Viking berserker I’ve lost my fears
The enemy troops fear dying, but I don’t, a noble death with
Anastasia.

It’s all I have left. I’m an empty corpse marching through
This dystopian nightmare of dead people and dead dreams.
With the cadence of a thousand determined boots marching
To war under a blue moon that’s disheartened as I am too.
Bombs exploding around me, I fight the battle unconcerned
Like a bulletproof immortal protected by the gods of war.

The battle ends; we win; still alive I collapse on the burnt ground
And cry countless tears for my sweet angel, my love, my wife
Anastasia.

Bob Boyd

My Dog Bo Ain’t Dumb

Clarence said he understood
the language of chirping cicadas
and could read the minds of ants.
He said he knew what birds were thinking
and could predict their futures as they flew.
See that sparrow flying overhead, he said.
in a week it will be in the stomach of a hawk.
I almost believed him, as confident as he was
until he said he knew what my dog Bo was thinking,
could easily read his every dumb dog thought.
Curious and a little offended by his insulting Bo,
I said, what the hell is my dumb dog thinking?
He’s blown away by how well I can read his mind.
You know how dogs can hear things we can’t?
Dogs can know when a psychic reads their minds.
Bo looked at Clarance and let out a howl
as if in agreement with what Clarence said.
Then Bo growled and jumped up curved sideways
suspended in the air like a professional athlete
and with a spectacular airborne twisting move
bit that soothsaying Clarence on the butt.
Bo never did like BS artists.

Mongolian Death Worm King of Worms

Mongolian Death Worm King of Worms
Hidden in the Gopi sands unfindable
Humble and possessing great wisdom
You seek not the fame you could have.

You know it’s a fickle fading light
You know if you made a world debut
Like King Kong, they’d cage and debase you
Like King Kong, they’d exhibit and destroy you
Because you are so different, so wondrous
And so uniquely beautiful.

Hail Mongolian Death Worm
King of Worms!

Bob Boyd

Josh And A Hitchhiking Ghost Girl

My lovelorn friend Josh, adventurous type
said he picked up a Hitchhiking Ghost girl named Lydia
last night on High Point Road in Jamestown, NC
told him her real name was Annie, not Lydia.

knew Josh was joking, embellishing an urban legend
let him continue to see where his fake story would go
said he had a one and only attraction to ghost girl Annie
Hooded dark eyes, and “otherworldly beautiful.”

Annie said the feeling mutual, were soulmates
A kiss goodbye and a promised date
next night on High Point Road in Jamestown at 8 pm.

Saw him before he left, said good luck, bid him goodbye
Secretly followed him in my car to catch him in his charade
The night dark, moonless, and  foreboding.

Not usually superstitious or spooked by things
But had dreadful premonition
Something awful was going to happen.

Seconds later on High Point Road in Jamestown
Josh lost control of his car, skidded off the road
smashed into a gnarly old Oak tree.

Drove up, spied Annie shimmering and ghostly white
Josh shimmering and ghostly white in her arms
a kiss then they vanished I don’t know where to
thinking might have seen shock induced hallucination
rushed to Josh’s car, his body bloodied and smashed up
dead on High Point Road in Jamestown at 8 pm.

Now reader, know this; The ghostly tale story is 100% true
if some night you drive on High Point Road in Jamestown at 8 pm
don’t be surprised if you see Josh and Annie
thumbs out hitchhiking a ride.

Bob Boyd

Bigfoot in Texas

Hiking near the Rio Grande
And had my Clock 20 handy
In case some big unhinged bear
Charged at me out of his liar.

The day was quiet and peaceful
Being in nature felt blissful
Suddenly something was afoot
I turned around and saw Bigfoot.

To my surprise, he said, “What’s up?”
I ran away like a scared pup
In that moment forgot the glock
Too frightened to shoot and in shock.

Smashed into a tree hit my head
Fell on the ground like I was dead
Came to with Bigfoot over me
Saying are you okay, so sweetly.

He lifted me off of the ground
Smiled and asked me to hang around
Said okay since he meant no harm
His manner as soothing as balm.

We talked and he said crazy things
Like there were aliens with wings
Then all of a sudden he sings
And becomes an alien with wings.

And said it’s time for me to go
And down came a big UFO
He got in it and waved goodbye
And disappeared into the sky.

Bob Boyd

Some People Want to Live to be a Hundred

Some people want
to live
to be a hundred
they know nothing
about the dark nights
of living
too long a life.

They know
nothing
of the
myriad illnesses
that plague most
aging
out of existence.

The worst
the mind’s
demise
when you
become
oblivious of
everything
everyone
and your
vanished self.

Despair
when
friends, icons,
and
beloved spouse
pass away
so many gone
the worst
your spouse
a deep abyss
ever surfacing
sadness.

Of course
it’s
not all bad
there’s those
Golden Years
on canes
crutches,
and
in wheelchairs.

Bob Boyd

When My Granny Saw A Doctor

Never go to doctors
They’ll find something wrong with you
Stay away and you won’t get sick or die
For example
My granny was the healthiest granny on the planet
Bench pressing 200 pounds, repeatedly
Squatting 500 pounds, endlessly
Running six day ultra marathons
Kicking the crap out of subway pushers in NYC
All that, until she saw a geriatrics quack
A wacko psycho doctor of death
He diagnosed her with the big C
Placebo screwed her with a BS death knell
Stage 4, three months to live, he claimed sadistically
Three anxiety-driven, brainwashed months later
Six failed ultra marathons
Granny was stone cold expired
Waked and buried at Bellevue Cemetery
Don’t ask me about the costs
In denial about my sweet granny’s passing
Vowed to find a way to bring her back
Prayed to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph
And Catholic saints of impossible causes
Because Jesus came back successfully
Thought maybe he’d share
His secret resurrection formula
And give a dead granny some love
Didn’t work
Granny remained unresurrected
Exasperated and driven to near madness
I robbed granny out of her grave
And tried to Frankenstein her
Bound her to a metal table
Rigged a lightning rod to it
A thunderstorm raged and rumbled
Lightning flashed and crackled
Struck her corpse, made it sizzle
Didn’t work
Lightning only barbequed her body
Or cooked it, not sure which
Brainstormed a better idea
Jump started her like a dead car battery
Problem solved, kinda
Granny is up and running
And chasing me around my house
Alive and electrically zombified.

Bob Boyd

Canadian Geese

Proud honkers, wings flapping,
Beaks bobbing, surround us
Delicious crumbs of bread
I decorate the ground with
Ravenous bird mob vying for manna
Chorus of wings beating above me
Air vibrating magically
More regal Canadian Geese
Landing on makeshift air strip
Bread crumbed ground
Like San Fran International
Suddenly something surprising
Never happened before
An urgent avian beak
Tugging at my pant leg
Saying me, me, me
My turn for some bread.

Bob Boyd

Sixties Stella

Stella, sixties star
soared in the skies
maybe too close
to the sun

all in hippie
dressed the part
flower prints, tie dyes
psychedelic colors
did LSD, meth and
other drugs too

A few bad trips
tired of freak outs
sought the Truth
In the spiritual oasis
mother India
found a guru
Shri Swami something

three years later
returned to Cali
enlightened
she claimed
looking crazier
more screwed up
then when on drugs

vegan thin to the bone
worryingly skeletal
then came the day
she proclaimed
siddhis (super powers)
I can fly she said

eyes lit like flashbulbs
sadhu dreads disheveled
kinda zombitized

a day later she flew
off a ten story building
and the Stella I loved
and will never forget
took her final trip
into the Great Unknown.

Bob Boyd

The Saddest Words

I once heard a saying: the saddest words
there ever were are it might have been.
You don’t know this, but I believe this is us,
and these verses are to you for just one time:
I believe beyond a doubt we could have
the greatest, most epic love of our lives.
But if these romantic words fail to convince you,
never will you see amorous words from me again
and this heartfelt poem of wondrous starlit love
will burn out in a dark and cold moonless night.

Bob Boyd

Pat Curran

Sometimes I wonder how Pat Curran is doing now
I wonder if she is still alive or gone to the Great Unknown
She was my sweetheart when we were both sweet sixteen
Blonde and beautiful, she caught my attention at a YMCA Teen Dance
With a single close dance, magical things happened, my heart soared
I felt first love bloom; she did too, in our tender surrender in sweet innocence
But, woe, she was from Montclair, New Jersey and I was from Woburn, Mass
At least we had romantically amazing summers together; she stayed with a relative then
A song You Belong To Me was our song; our hearts claimed to it, we lived it
But, oh God, those falls, winters and springs were so unbearably cold without her
Summers were never as warm and exciting and as euphoric for me
Her hugs and her kisses so unlike anything I ever knew, so heavenly
The sight of her so amazingly beautiful, so perfect in all ways
Made me feel like I’d won the biggest romantic lottery ever
And, guess what? We had vowed to marry when we grew older
A fairy tale happy ever after teenage dream I always had
Finding the right girl in high school and being with her forever
But, woe, then came the final summer when the weather cooled off
She dropped a bomb on me that blew up my heart, demolished our love
She told me she was sorry she was seeing a freshman at Rutgers U.
I bawled my brains out; my heart sank like a dead ship; I didn’t want to live
My dreams obliterated, fairy tale romantic notions shattered, nothing mattered
But, hey, who hasn’t lost a love and who, like me, didn’t get over it
Still sometimes I wonder how Pat Curran is doing now.

Bob Boyd

When We Were On the Jerry Springer Show

When we were on the Jerry Springer Show
And my girlfriend made a laughingstock spectacle out of me
Under the glaring lights and hundreds of thousands of viewers
Surprised, embarrassed, and angry I swore we were through
She laughed and said he always says that
And he’ll come back to me.
In front of hundreds of thousands of viewers eagerly awaiting my response
Sitting in their homes eating snacks and watching that insane show
I vowed in front of those hundreds of thousands that this time I meant it.
Unfazed by my vow, my girlfriend laughed again, as if my vow were a joke
And she said he always says that; he’s not going anywhere.
I smirked and said yeah sure, you’ll see, just don’t wait up for me
In front of those hundreds of thousands of viewers
Watching my crazy love life play out on nationwide TV
The sad part of all that televised freak show drama is …
She was right.

I Like 30s Music

I like 30s music It hearkins back
to a simpler, more peaceful era without drugs
Everywhere,
Without poor drugged up souls in the streets
Twisting
Without pointless mass shootings
Commonplace
Without people pushed into subways
Routinely
Without people attacked all the time
Randomly
Without bullied children committing suicide
Often
Without children being sexualized in schools
Daily
Without the government treating concerned parents like
Terrorists
I pine for 30s music and simpler more peaceful times and
Normalcy.

Bob Boyd

Different Planets

It’s like you and I are from different planets,
Nothing in common, so freakin’ far apart.
How the hell did we ever get together?
Sure you are beautiful, and you think I look good too,
But is this only a superficial, never lasting love?
Or despite the agonizing differences, are we really a couple?
Have we spent six months and two weeks together for nothing?
And what about the I love yous, need yous, want yous,
Were those endearments as hollow as the inside of a bell?
I mean why are we even together, why the hell are we so badly yoked?
Sometimes you drive me so crazy I feel like copycatting those people who jump off buildings.
Seriously, you drive me insanely crazy like that and make me an emotional maniac.

What? What did you say?

“If you feel our relationship is so painful and dysfunctional, why don’t you leave?”

I don’t leave because it would hurt more to be without you.
Because I’d be driven even crazier from not having you in my life.
Because despite my inane complaints, my insipid rantings, I need you.
And because I love you beyond words, beyond reason, and beyond anything and everything.
And I’m sorry, and I promise I’ll stop these stupid, deal breaking rantings.

Bob Boyd

The Assaults of Aging

Body wearing down arthritis setting in, joint and muscle straining
Balance out of whack, muscles weakening, wrinkling
Skin screwed, wrinkles and ugly aging spots everywhere
If you’re lucky, you’ll still have your hair and your teeth
Senior discounts only serve to validate what may not be clear to you
Sleep, waking in the night, risks of falls if meandering to the bathroom
Blood tests show many problems, a godawful cancer might be one of them
Examined and poked by gerontologists like a nonentity lab specimen
More doctors than ever, appointment after appointment after appointment
The memory firing only on 5 cylinders, days of senior moments, maybe dementia
The voice sounds weak or hoarse unless you’re lucky or genetically blessed
Once youthful looks, often pretty, now lost, new roles as nondescript grannies
Once handsome young men, now like paradise lost, looks gone forever
Friends and generational icons dying, depressing reminders nothing lasts
You wonder when you’ll be next, your immorality forsaken, your mortality waning
If unbearably sick, or in unbearable pain, or dying in a nursing home ….
You might pray you are next.

Bob Boyd

On My Back a Soft Tap

I turned around and saw cute you
I was eight I think you were too
I remember your red hair
So pretty in the summer air

You smiled at me and ran away
But I never forgot that day
In over seventy long years
Through happy times and times of tears

If only I had talked to you
Under that summer sky so blue
It could have led to something new
And maybe true love as we grew

But alas the moment went by
I write that with a forlorn sigh
Maybe in the life beyond this
Older, true love we will not miss.

Bob Boyd

Cracks

A second chance
for love
so complete
– at first.
Then cracks
appeared.
Her habits
at first
endearing
began to wear.
His drinking
okay – at first.
Then began to
tear the fabric
of their love.
Intolerable –
near the end.
Months
of fighting
then physical
abuse.
Him
lying dead
after dinner
poisoned
to death.
Her
million dollar
insurance
payout.
 
Bob Boyd

Ruth

I remember when I learned you died
A lone obit on the net

You died too soon
I think it was the smoking

Though we hadn’t been
for many years
I felt pangs for you

I wish it never happened
I wish you could have
had a longer life
and maybe kids
and a good husband

I hope you have something better
wherever you are

Though our love
was beyond retrievable
my heart mourns
for you
having such
an early demise.

Bob Boyd

Stuff

I thought we had true love
I thought it would last
But you had other plans

Selfish plans
In violation of true love
In violation of vows

You wanted more stuff
I didn’t care about

So you met a rich guy
Who dazzled you with stuff
And you left me
I didn’t care about that either

Then the rich guy said goodbye
And took his stuff

You cried and wanted the guy back
who didn’t care about stuff
Like a fool
I succumbed.
Like a fool
I felt sorry for you

Your redemption worked
until you found another guy
with more stuff

I’ll never make that mistake again.

Bob Boyd

Ode To A Stink Bug

He sneaks into my apartment somehow
He’s a weird-looking critter I must say
And he’s sitting here looking at me now
I could end his life in a flash, but hey
He’s just sitting there not causing trouble
Were he a mosquito, I’d be bitten
And that bug would be dead on the double 
Unlike the stink bug with whom I’m smitten
Because of his odd look and gentle ways
I’m sure he’s not gentle with smaller prey
But it is not his fault in nature’s maze
We all eat smaller things; it’s nature’s way.
Poor stink bug saddled with a name that stinks
When named, if only he could have said nay
And gotten a cooler name like The Spinx.

Bob Boyd

When I Am Away From You

When I am away from you
I get lonely and heartsick
I so feel lost and alone
And I can’t live without you

When I am away from you
My heart cannot stop aching
And my world goes to pieces
From longing to be with you

But when we are together
My heart bursts with happiness
And I feel like I’m in heaven
Because of the love we share.

Bob Boyd

Reunion

I remember her last resigned gasp
The awful rattling in her throat
The end of her, the end of everything
Without her, I wanted to die too.

For ten years I’ve had endless laments
Never ceasing in my love for her
Never loving another woman
True to her as if she never died.

Now with a deadly stage 4 cancer
My diseased life coming to an end
I hear a voice, see a pretty face
My Love smiling and waiting for me.

Bob Boyd

Pet Stores Shouldn’t Keep Bettas In Plastic Cups

In a pet store, languished a sad, old Betta fish
Jailed in a tiny plastic cup with a tight lid
Depressed he wondered how have I come to only this
Plastic cup-bound captive unhappy and morbid.

When he was a younger fish, he had great grand dreams
Of living the high life in a ritzy fish tank
With bubbling water and lights like soft moonbeams
With years trapped in that goddamn cup, his hopes all sank.

Then came a renowned fish whisper named Bob Boyd
Who quietly listened to the Betta’s sad tale
And he deduced he didn’t have to be a Fraud
To see the Betta was suffering in his jail.

Having no money on him, he needed a plan
He didn’t have one till he saw an open door
With the excited Betta in his trembling hand
He yelled Freedom! And ran right out of the pet store.

Bob Boyd

For Maria

In deeper Catholicism are revered Victim Souls
Who’s suffering helps everyone in the whole world
If that is true, the rest of us play far lesser roles
In this intermission before the great afterworld

I believe Maria’s temporary earthbound fate 
Might be like those Souls and a prelude to something great  
I believe when she leaves this ever uncertain world
She will be like an angel in the great afterworld.

Bob Boyd

I’m So Done With That Miss Vicky

I’m so done with that Miss Vicky
Love bomb poem didn’t sticky
Blind like a bat, she cannot see
What could have been, what ought to be.

But it doesn’t matter to me
Don’t care about what could not be
Got a plan to set my heart free
In the next stanza, you will see.

I got game at Harris Teeter
Probably find someone sweeter
Fresh pickins’ in the produce aisles
Hotter stuff with come hither smiles.

Written in 1918 by Bob Boyd, who was a humble and distinguished Scottish Lord, while taking the waters to cure his aching heart at the celebrated Sturbridge Spa in Sturbridge, Massachusetts. 

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