Poems by Bob Boyd

I was surprised to learn wolves no
long exist in Great Britain. They
were hunted out of existence there,
the last wolf thought to be hunted
down and killed in 1680.

I find it sad they were exterminated,
but I understand the reason, killing
farmer’s livestock all over Britain.
Nonetheless, I wish they hadn’t had
to be hunted down and slaughtered,
driven out of their natural habitats.

There are discussions about bringing
wolves back to England, rewilding
to restore nature’s balances,
culling deer, reducing overpopulation
and allowing this majestic species to
roam the lands of Great Britain again.

Bob Boyd

Claudia was a vindictive person.
People who crossed her or even
those she didn’t like often tended
to die of medical or natural causes.
It was all flawless, never suspicious.
She got away with murdering many,
her weapons invisible and effective.
Her thoughts, her intentions like
mental missiles launched into her
victims bodies with perfect precision.
Perhaps her numerous undiscovered
murders caused a vengeful boomerang
effect when her body blew up in flames
reducing her to smoking, charred ashes.

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

She looked so pretty in the YouTube video.
Her voice was sweet as well.
But it all fell apart when she kept talking
and swearing at the police.
It all fell apart when she said she kicked
her boyfriend in the balls and said,
“Isn’t that what women do?”
It turned out she was an abuser
despite being a pretty 5’2.

Bob Boyd

He’s outlived many people.
Friends and icons gone.
He yearns to join them,
To be freed of his old body.
Some say he’s delusional.
Death is just death.
No invisible worlds where
One is united with friends.
No gods. No angelic beings.
When you’re dead, you’re dead.
You and everything no more.
The doubters may be correct.
As insects are thought to
have no blissful heavens,
It may be the same for humans.
He’s completely okay with that.
If oblivion is what death offers,
He will have no awareness of it
When he takes his final breath.

Bob Boyd

They passed in and out of my life.
Some were nice. Some were not.
Some I got involved with.
Some I had nothing to do with.
Some are dead. Some are alive.
Now all I have are memories.
of all the impermanent women
who passed in and out of my life.
I wish I could do a rewind
and find a permanent one.
But I’d only be fooling myself.
A permanent one does not exist.

Bob Boyd

They felt the need to control us.
To keep us all suppressed.
To insure they remained in power
To lord over all of us.
But we became like a tinder box
And exploded into revolution.
The tyrants fled or were contained.
The people were in power again,
A fair and benevolent leader
was elected into leadership.
Freedom restored, peace again.

Bob Boyd

The shining sun
The waning moon
The changing weather
The rolling hills
The raging rivers
The silent rocks
The roaming animals
The flying birds
The crawling and
Flying insects
The man who marvels
At it all and wonders if
A God or something else
Created all he sees.

Bob Boyd

After one of our many arguments, she
told me I could have done worse than
her, as if she, a woman who seemed to love
bickering, was a better bargain.

But she had a point. At least she hadn’t
tried to kill me with a kitchen knife, or
stole all my money. At least she hadn’t
ran off with some other guy.

So I stayed with her and put up with her
bickering until she decided she was a
lesbian and took up with a woman who
eventually left her when she decided
she wasn’t a lesbian and needed a man.

Fool that I was, maybe a masochist, I
took her back when she came begging
me to give her another try. And now she’s
back to bickering with me every day.
But for me, bad love is better than no love.

Bob Boyd

The werewolf kept pounding on
my front door, reinforced with steel.
He kept howling annoyingly,
not knowing what he was dealing with.
When he wasn’t a werewolf, he
was a guy named Leonard,
whose wife I’d been with, but
only once until I found out she
was a werewolf too and married.
Being an oddity myself, I didn’t
mind the werewolf part. It was
the married, taken, part that
deterred me. Despite my failings,
I have my principles. But back to
werewolf Leonard. His howling
finally got on my last nerve, and
I morphed into my vicious alien
form and sliced and diced him
like I had done with cows I mutilated
in farmer’s fields all over the USA.

Bob Boyd

How did we come to this?
Done with each other?
What happened to that
falling in love elation,
the love of our lives,
the soulmates forever?
Were we fooling each other
initially, playing parts we
were not, hiding our authentic
selves? How did we go from
loving to hating each other?
You done with me.
Me done with you.
Why did true love
become so untrue?

Bob Boyd