Month: September 2024

There are mystics
who say love is the way
to total liberation,
becoming one with God and
getting off the wheel of rebirth,
living forever in eternal bliss.

I love the thought of that.
I’d love to be one with God
and get off the wheel of rebirth
and live forever in eternal bliss.
But, honestly, my love,
I’d rather stay on the wheel
and keep coming back to this life,
forever … in love with you.

Bob Boyd

Radar speed sign on the road always clocked you
Past 35 miles an hour to keep you in check at 35.
Took it as a challenge, punched the gas pedal hard
Each time I sped past that freakin’ speed sign.
Personal best: Flew by it at 125 miles per hour.
Killed the sign with that record shattering ride.
The numbers spazzed out. The sign exploded.

Bob Boyd

Love songs blaring out of cars.
1957 Chevy bel airs with fins
And other flashy finned cars,
Prowling land sharks on tires,
Roaring and screeching rubber
Hot and smoking city streets,
Impressing gawking, teenage girls
Culminating in sweet, tender times.
Making out and petting in cars.
Romantic teenage wonderlands,
1950s cool summer nights.

Bob Boyd

At six-years-old
He hated his baby sister
He lost the attention
When she was born
She annoyed him
When she cried
And he was happy
When she died
Supposedly
Accidently
Smothered
To death by
A pet cat in her crib.

Bob Boyd

He was like her puppy.
She had him on a leash.
She issued him orders.
He obeyed them.
She was so beautiful
He couldn’t risk losing her.
So he did what she said,
Even though he knew he’d become
Subservient and emasculated
And no longer a real man.
He often wished he had the guts
To stand up to her and say no.
But she was too beautiful to defy.
So he kept being her puppy
Until she found a new pet.

Bob Boyd

Death has come for him.
He’s not scared.
He got too wasted.
He got too sick.
Drank too much.
Took too many drugs.
No family. No friends.
Nobody cares about him
No one is going to miss him.
Nobody knows his name.
He gasps his last breath
On that somber, November day,
Dead and homeless on a cold street.

Bob Boyd

Old people don’t climb trees
They can barely walk up steps
And it’s hard just to bend over
Or maintain their shaky balance

Instead they climb the years
Toward a higher destination
Beyond the aches and pains
Of their dwindling endtime lives

And for them just falling down
In a bathroom or on a floor
Is as deadly or more deadly
Than falling out of a tree

Besides they climbed many
Trees in their childhood years
When falls didn’t seem deadly
And climbing them was fun

Now they have to take it easy
Falls have become deadly
So they no longer climb trees
But hope to climb to heaven

Bob Boyd

In the summer of sixty-two
I protected and saved her
From that abusive monster
She foolishly fell in love with.
I put him where he deserved to be
Dead in the grave, finished forever.
But she testified against me,
Helped to put me in prison,
And found another monster
To use and batter her.
She wrote me in prison,
A tear-stained letter,
About her latest monster
And apologized to me.
I never wrote her back.

Bob Boyd

Loved the way you moved on the dance floor
When we were in our energetic twenties.
So young. So in love. So invincible. So forever.
There was nothing we couldn’t do,
No dreams we couldn’t dream.
We were going to stay young forever.
The dancing, the illusions and the dreams
All died when we turned a dismal seventy-two.
A terrible cancer took you away from me,
And I went out of my aged mind and died inside.

Bob Boyd

Married 30 years,
Different political affiliations.
Her a Democrat. Him a Republican.
All was well until she became woke
And was okay with open borders.
He tried to explain to her the evils
Of the open borders:
Sex trafficking many victims.
Fentanyl killing Americans.
South American gangs coming in
And causing widespread trouble.
Americans being raped and murdered.
Easy access for enemies of America.
He told her of all these infamous things.
Yet she refused to relinquish her support
For the cause of all these evils,
Too woke, too uncaring, and in denial.
He had to turn out the lights and say good night
To her and their marriage.

Bob Boyd

An old flame called him unexpectedly
40 years after they’d been together.
They were both 65 years old then.
Surprised and delighted to hear from her,
Hoping to rekindle that yesteryear love,
He excitedly agreed to meet her.

They met at a Brennen’s coffee shop,
Reminisced about good old times.
After they finished their coffees
And all the fond shared memories,
They left the coffee shop disappointed
And sadly went their separate ways.
The flames extinguished forever.
Different people from so long ago.

Bob Boyd

Sold gold at sixteen-years-old
All the kids wanted to be like him
Coolest guy ever in high school
All the girls wanted to be with him
Suffered from severe depression
Hung himself to death in the gym
Thirteen classmates followed him
Couldn’t live with most popular
Guy ever in high school gone

Bob Boyd

He stumbled out of her apartment, heartbroken.
She said she found a new love, and they were done.
He left her apartment, went to a corner bar teary-eyed.
Drank himself into oblivion, wished he were dead.
Too drunk to drive, too out of it to care, barely aware,
He staggered down English street at 2 am, almost fell.
An old friend saw him, took him in for the night,
So he could sober up and get himself right.
When he woke up at his friends apartment
The next morning, the sun shining through the blinds.
Over fresh brewed coffee, the friend apologized
For stealing the woman he thought was his forever love.
He didn’t take the news well, told his friend to go to hell.
Left his ex-friend’s place in a huff, vowed to never love again.

Bob Boyd

Those crazy days and nights with you
He’s so glad they’re over

You seemed sane and caring
In the romantic beginning

Before he got snared into your
Twisted, insane dramas

He endured years of your torments
That sucked the life out of him

Until your departure for another
Freed him from your toxicity

His rehab from your debilitating ways
A sane and caring new love

Bob Boyd

Endless chatter fills the air
Sounds of billions of voices
All across the vast planet
Big talk and small talk
Important, unimportant
All rendered insignificant
With their terminations
And their sounds erased

Bob Boyd