Poems by Bob Boyd

Fish swimming back and forth in an ever changing sea
Seeming to live for pleasure, food, and survival.
Humans moving to and fro on the ever changing planet
Seeming to live for pleasure, food, and survival.
Maybe we are like fish too but in a different life arena?
Similar for sure is the constant motion and endless striving.

Bob Boyd

Met a woman named Leona at a swank, upscale club.
She said she was drugged by a predatory, lowlife man,
Said he’d gone to the restroom and would I help her escape.
Being a gentleman, I said I’d give her a ride to her home.
On the ride to her home I noticed a bright full moon.

When we arrived at her apartment and I looked at her
I shouted, holy hell! Leona had morphed into a werewolf!
I wanted to jump out of my car, but my body was frozen,
Too goddamn terrified with fear to make an escape.
Werewolf Lenora growled if you kiss me, I won’t kill you.

As you can understand, I had fright filled hesitations.
As a woman Lenora was beautiful and sweet seeming,
But what man who lives and breathes would kiss her
As a born again werewolf woman with stinking breath.
But thinking it was my only chance to stay alive I risked

Everything and gave her a feeble, frightened kiss.
Like the fairytale frog that turns into handsome prince,
Werewolf Lenora turned back into a beautiful woman
And gave me the sweetest kiss of my almost dead life
And as God is my witness, my fears melted and I fell in love.

Bob Boyd

Strong wind shaking trees
Leaves laughing merrily
O how they love the wind
When it gets playful and
Gives them rides back and
Forth up and down.

Bob Boyd

Once upon a time if you were the wrong, darker race
You couldn’t drink out of the privileged race’s water fountain.
You had to drink out of a separate, segregated water fountain,
As if like the untouchables of India it was felt you’d profane
The privileged race’s off limits, undefiled water supply.
This makes me wonder what kind of idiot made that decision,
And who the hell made him or her think he or she was
A superior race like Hitler’s master race illusionary nonsense.
Thank God we can all drink out of the same water fountains now.

Bob Boyd

She always had a beautiful disposition,
As if a light of joy always beamed in her
And radiated out to every life she touched.
An extrovert extraordinaire, she liked a peopled life.
An introvert extraordinaire, I liked a quieter life.
It became like that east is and west is west thing.
Sadly after years of marriage we parted.
Sadder still, she died far too young years later.
I believe she’s in a heaven radiating more joy than ever.

Bob Boyd

Self dependent
No tensions
No quarrels
No compromises
No interference
No differences
No put downs
No disappointments

Free will
Free choices
Free decisions
Free time

No need for
Loneliness or
The often
Detrimental
Need for
An often
Unsuitable
Another

Bob Boyd

The beautiful women of my generation,
All old now and their looks obliterated.
Though it shouldn’t, this saddens me.
In their youth in movies and on TV
Their beauty seemed imperishable, but
Like dead roses, their looks have died,
A mournful reminder nothing lasts.
And so tragic their beauty was like a
Fleeting illusion in this impermanence.
Alas, if only these lovelies could have
Stayed young and beautiful forever.

Bob Boyd

He’d been studying her secretly for two weeks;
He’d gotten her patterns down and was ready to attack,
Easy prey, she lived by herself in a quiet part of the city,
He’d break in, hold her at gunpoint, raped her and kill her.
On the sweet chosen night, he began to break in her house,
A cautious sleeper, she heard him tinkering at her front door.
She knew danger was coming, told him she had a gun.
He said no problem, honey, I’ve got a gun too,
And I’m here to enjoy you, and I’m going to love killing you.
When he broke through the door she fired rat-tat-tat
He fired back rat-tat-tat. When the shots died down
The would be rapist/murderer was dead.
The would be victim was alive.

Bob Boyd

Thousands of people pass by me daily In this sorry city.
Some bump into me without an excuse me as if I don’t exist.
In a way I don’t as I roam this city mindlessly like a ghost.

These streets are suffocating, demoralizing and soul destroying,
But I’m homeless, addicted, broken and nowhere else to go.

This tired city is my meal ticket for surviving another pointless day.
I rummage through trash kills and garbage bins and beg for money.

Maybe one day I’ll turn things around, get over my addiction.
Maybe Jesus will save a godforsaken drug addict like me.
Maybe the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are real.

Bob Boyd

Said he was a ufologist
who visited many sites
alleged to have ufo
activity.

Told me he finally
found a site with
ufo activity.

Location was in
a nearby forest.

Said he met aliens
Near a cave there.

Asked me if I wanted
to see the aliens
with him.

No way, I said.

A friend agreed to
go with him and
disappeared.

APB for ufologist —
a serial killer.

Bob Boyd