Month: September 2024

A Nonviolent Man with a Violent Woman

He drove as far away as he could from her,
Frightened by her abuse, mindful of her threat to kill him,
Ashamed he had been so unmanly
that he let her abuse of him happen.

Disappointed in himself when he never reported her for stabbing
Him in his shoulder and maybe stopping her violence
By having her jailed for attempting to kill him.

Now a too peaceful, too nonviolent man he realizes he’s a coward,
But at least by fleeing he’s still alive for now,
And no longer trapped in the toxicity of her twisted love.

She stalked him before when he fled to another state,
And give him a near death beating, her love brutal and obsessive.

When he reached Tulsa,Texas, he bought a pistol to shoot her with if
she found him again, which he felt sure she would do.

But when she showed up a year later, with a demonlike look in her blazing eyes
And breathing fire with the torrent of threats she screamed at him
And with a machete in her hand

For the first time in their insane relationship he stood up to her.
He aimed his gun at her enraged face and threatened to shoot her
If she didn’t leave him alone and get the hell out of his life.

When she charged him screaming like a female berserker swinging the machete,
He dropped the gun and let her hack him to death and end his unending fear and misery.

Bob Boyd

Saturday rolls around just like another day
Now that he’s retired and liberated from
The workday controls and time constrictions
That ruled his life for over seventy years.
Now that he’s free and no one controls him
Or runs interference on his activities,
He does whatever he pleases.

Bob Boyd

He wrote his poems just to create
He no longer cared about getting published
He enjoyed the satisfaction of the process
Writing poems about everything he imagined
Amazed at the things he could make up
As an old man with a shrinking brain and body
Like a one last gasp of creative activity
That helped to keep him alive and well

Bob Boyd

Mary primped herself in public
At a lovely age eighteen
And all the guys drooled
And wanted to be with her

Now Mary primps herself in public
At a vintaged age seventy
And even old guys who drool
All over themselves don’t
Want to be with her

Maybe Mary primping herself
Was a bit much
But I wish she could have
Stayed young and beautiful
And still looked great when
She groomed herself in public
And had such a fresh and
Springtime beautiful face

Bob Boyd

She was beautiful and she loved her donuts
Perfect face. Perfect body. Passable personality.

I felt she was donuts obsessed and ate too many of them.
She said I work out. I burn off the calories and can eat
All the donuts I want, which I’m going to keep doing.

Years later, after she turned forty, she complained to me.
“You were right,” she said. “Now I have a donut belly with
All the fat around my waist like an imitation innertube
Shaped like a round donut.”

“But,” she said. “I have a plan. I’m going to just eat those
Rectangular cruller donuts and slim down with a waist like them.”
Crazy as this sounds, somehow it worked. Her waist
Got slim again.

Or maybe she was just messing with me.

Bob Boyd

Under a past life regression hypnosis session I learned
I’d been Moses, Julius Caesar and Robert E. Lee
In former lives. I had always known I was special.
Now I know why.

I went to another past life regression hypnosis session and didn’t fare as well,
Nobody famous, nobody notorious,
Just humdrum lives. That one knocked me off my high horse.

I went to third past life hypnosis session with a dour-looking hypnotist
Who I sensed didn’t like the way I looked as I didn’t like the way she looked.
I learned I had a thousand insignificant past lives and was an old soul.

I left that session despondent, thinking I must be quite the insignificant, karma-ridden SOB to have lived all those lives and not gotten off the wheel.

Bob Boyd

Being a pampered dog
Owned by a wealthy family
Might be a better life
Than most humans have
Fetching a bone or a stick
And doing some other tricks
To amuse the rich patrons
Never having to worry
About paying any bills
Or affording any food
More love and appreciation
Than most humans have
Might be a better life

Bob Boyd

He dreamt of becoming a great poet.
He knew he had enough talent to be one.
He lived off some savings he had in a bank
After ten years his dream not fulfilled,
Nothing published. No savings left,
He had to take temp jobs to support himself
And live in old rundown boarding houses.

He squandered what little money he made
On beer and cheap whisky to erase his sorrow
Over his failure to become a great poet.
He became an alcoholic, wrote worse poems,
His brain damaged from all the drinking.
He could no longer get any temp jobs,
Became homeless and begged for money
He spent on beer and cheap whisky.
Gave up on becoming a great poet,
Drank himself to death instead.

Bob Boyd

I liked the new pitbull in my neighborhood.
I hoped he liked me.
He eyed me sideways when he first saw me.
He made me wonder what was on his mind.
The other day in the news a pitbull,
Described as being as harmless as a baby,
By the elderly woman who owned him
Killed her granddaughter’s newborn baby.
I know not all pitbulls are dangerous
Like that pitbull.
But some of these powerful dogs are.
And the neighborhood pitbull growled
And snarled at me today
But doesn’t realize I’m open carry.

Bob Boyd

I hear birds singing in an acorn tree
Like a chorus in a church
While acorns drop to the ground,
Like paratroopers falling from planes
Into the arms and hands of
Hungry squirrels on the ground.
And I wonder if the ants want some
Of the leftover acorn crumbs.
And I wonder why those birds have
Chosen that acorn tree to sing in.
Do they have an affinity with acorns
Or was it just a random choice?
And I think to myself how much
I missed when I didn’t pay as much
Attention to the goings on of nature.

Bob Boyd

He sits in jail wondering how he and his country
came to this.

For a mere tweet criticizing his heavy-handed government,
the police knocked on his door and carted him to jail.

He never thought his beloved country would become
a totalitarian nightmare state.

He never thought living in a proposed new world order
would get him ordered to jail.

Yet there he sits silenced in a soul-stifling cell
as if he were a dangerous criminal.

He vows when he gets out to begin a fight
against the injustices of the oppressors.

And he takes solace in knowing
a revolution is brewing.

Bob Boyd

I’m a celebrity
More important than you
I know better than you
What’s best for you
Because I think
I’m better than
Peon you and
Have the right
To lecture you
About things
I know little
or nothing about

Bob Boyd

He pined for fame all his life
He wanted it more than a wife
He began acting in grade school
Starred in high school plays
Voted best likely to succeed
In his high school yearbook
Took acting class after that
Got his first break a year later
A bit part in an action movie
Got recognized for his role
Began getting bigger roles
Eventually became a star
And won an award
All uphill from there
Fame achieved
A high for a while until
His stardom began to dim
And the fame became empty
And he got depressed and
Bored and drank too much
And started hating his life
Until he found a good wife

Bob Boyd

No matter how important you are
Or how important you think you are
Just like me and everyone else
You will be brought down
You will be extinguished
And in time
You will be forgotten
With more time
You will fade into insignificance
Just like me and everyone else

Bob Boyd

I was making it before the Great Depression hit,
Living the American Dream, buying stocks.
Then I lost everything and felt so disgraced
When like everyone else I stood in line
For bread and soup
And nearly starved to death.
When like everyone else I lived in a shanty
In Hooverville and nearly froze to death.
When like everyone else I couldn’t find a job
And got so damn depressed
That one day I just couldn’t go on,
Living in rags like a goddamn bum,
Unable to support myself,
Unable to afford a decent meal.
I gave up on living my lousy life
And shot myself to death.

Bob Boyd