Month: December 2025

Beware! Watch out!
He’s got his eye on you.
From the day you are born.
He’s hunting you.
Don’t slip up.
Don’t take dangerous risks.
He’s always watching
He’s always stalking.
Who is he?
Who is this ghoul?
His first name is Grim.
His last name is Reaper.

Bob Boyd

According to many people who have
been clinically dead and came back, NDEers

when you die, aside from the tunnel of whte light,
there’s a life review

kind of like watching a movie, and maybe like acting
in it at the same time

you view all the good and not so good things you
did in your lifetime

but, take heart, it’s not punitive; God or a higher being
is there with you

not to condemn you for the not so good, but to help you
grow spiritually from the viewing

I don’t know exactly how the viewing helps you grow
spiritually, but if the NDE accounts are true

at least you don’t get sent to hell, but a small percentage of NDEers, felt they were in hell

what I really don’t know is – what happens if you’re permanently dead, the end of you or a new beginning

though I believe despite our not so goods, no matter how bad,
no matter how heinous

like rivers flowing in an ocean, we all eventually get to what the
Hindus call Sat Chit Ananda Eternal Bliss Consciousness

the degree, the speed of getting there, a matter of either
many incarnations on the wheel aka rebirths

or, hopefully, growing spiritually up a ladder of different levels,
in the afterlife; for example, a Hitler beginning at the lowest rung

but gradually, he begins to ascend up the ladder and
after near timeless penance and spiritual growth

some scientists think the NDEs are illusionary, even the common
ones, and they make good scientific arguments

in simple terms, despite all the beliefs and NDE experiences,
when you’re dead, you’re dead

if they’re right, I’m okay with that, and I’d be unaware of being completely erased – no me to be concerned.

Bob Boyd

Will AI take over everything?
Painting the pictures
Writing the stories
Taking all the jobs
Rendering humans
Unnecessary
Obsolete
Inferior
Useless
Extinct.

Bob Boyd

I’d been on sixteen ghosts hunts
But never saw any real ghosts like Midnight Mary.
In fact, I never really saw a ghost before Mary.
Sure my equipment suggested ghost activity,
But that’s not as spooky as coming face to face
With a real, dead spirit roaming the earth.

I’d heard about a ghost named Midnight Mary,
At the old, abandoned Bradmore Hotel.
I even saw an alleged photo of her ghostly face.
The photo looked fake, bogus urban legend stuff.
Supposedly people died messing with Mary.
Inside the Bradmore heard a scary rustling near me.
Shined my flashlight in the direction of the sound
Rats dashed away to their hiding places.
Searched the entire hotel, saw no sign of Mary.

Just more nonsense I mumbled to myself.
Drove to a motel, disappointed, another fake lead.
Retired for the night, fell into a dreamless sleep.
Heard an eerie sound fill the room, thought it was a dream,
One minute like a witch’s cackle, the next a ghostly wail.
Felt hands clutching my throat choking me to death,
Frightened, opened my eyes: Midnight Mary!
Died of shock in that old motel bed, my face frozen in fear.
Sometimes when you hunt ghosts, they hunt you.
Now as if I were bitten by a vampire, I’m a ghost too,
Every night I haunt this motel.

Bob Boyd

Passing women in this brief life,
what’s the point? Procreation
of the species? Or are these
parades of princesses merely
random encounters, some, one,
or none, that stick to a man’s
millisecond life in the timeless
eternity and make him happy,
miserable or nonplussed. And
why is the nearly irrepressible
need for a female’s endearments
and addictive charms ingrained
in a man’s DNA to his dying day?
And how is it some monk men
seem immune to this persistent
need? At times, eight years strong,
I have been one of those monk men –
almost, not quite. Yet sometimes
stirring amore undercurrents still
well up in me breathing unguarded,
old man foolish longings into my
weathered heart. Occasionally
I ponder will death rid me of
this resurfacing need, that
I repress and try to negate, my
resistance borne of too many
disappointments and painful
heartaches, or unite me with
a bona fide, eternal soulmate,
disappointments and heartaches
nevermore.

Bob Boyd

I remember …
I remember
when you were
young, funny
bright and
beautiful

when you
were so
joyously alive

and I was yours
and you were mine

sad how time
and some
gnawing
incompatibilties

erased our
unlasting love

sad how now
all the wonderful
that you were

a cancer
unexpectedly
erased and

you’re buried
like a sacrilege
deep in
the brown dirt.

Bob Boyd

I’m ever reminded on the news
China and Russia are
enemies of my country
I’ve met Chinese people
and seen many on Youtube videos
I’ve met Russian people
and seen many on Youtube videos
I don’t think of them as enemies
I see them essentially like me
people who just want to live
peaceful and happy lives
if only enemies who rule countries
could see each other the same way.

Bob Boyd

Since 2024, 340 have died on that mountain
more than 200 left there frozen in the snow

but despite the risks of dying
many still take the risk

that costs thousands of dollars
for everything needed to make the climb

included permits, a sherpa, gear, etc
on average, over $60,000

an exorbitant cost for the risk of losing
your life on a dangerous mountain

and were I a monied mountain climber, the sight of
one or more frozen dead bodies on the way up

would give me reservations about making the climb
along with the exorbitant cost for risking my life.

Bob Boyd

Her name was Rebekah
twenty-four and beautiful
kind and caring
mother of a little boy
religious, went to church
every chance she could
worked in retail management
liked by everyone
didn’t make it to work
on October 31st
her body found
in a woods near her home
murdered and probably raped
by her mother’s boyfriend
a church preacher
sentenced to eighty-five
years in prison
killed himself
in his cell.

Bob Boyd

Canonized in 2010
thousands of healings
he lies in a coffin
in a church high on a hill
a sacred shrine
two million pilgrims
visited yearly
the shrine is in
Saint Joseph’s Oratory
Montreal, Canada
the saint is
brother Andre
who went to heaven
in 1937.

Bob Boyd

A thinking man had a wife
exotically beautiful
but incompatibly incurious
only interested in superficialities
disinterested in deeper matters
small talk her modus operandi
deep conservations her nemesis
no meeting of the minds
never shared ponderings
it’s no wonder they were ill fated
being so mentally incompatible
that not even her exotic beauty
could fill that forlorn abyss.

Bob Boyd

Your life, my life, suspended by a thread
one day we are alive, next day we are dead
we go through this life as if dying never
until all that we were is gone forever
except for our lifeless corpses by death bound
to rot away in the smothering ground

Bob Boyd

Li Po and Du Fu I admire what you do
or I should write did.

Your poems are without peer
profound and so clear

It amazes me you wrote such
masterpieces of poetry way back
in the 8th century

If I could travel back in time
I’d like to be mentored by
both of you

maybe on
top of the Green Mountains

And maybe if we had
the time and the daring
between creating works
of poetry

in the literary
landscape of the Tang
dynasty

we could
go on a quest
for the dragon pearl.

Bob Boyd

Brad went on a 3 month meditation retreat
meditating up to 12 times daily
after 2 months, he had to leave the retreat
called me from a hospital emergency room
said he had attained cosmic consciousness
and could look into my eyes and take me there
as he talked on his words became disconnected
his voice sounded more than a little creepy
and he began talking about crazy things
I could tell he had overdosed on meditation
and had a severe, mental breakdown
instead of attaining cosmic consciousness
he spent the rest of the time I knew him
bouncing in and out of psychiatric wards
all from a single overdose of meditation.

Bob Boyd

Sparrows, do you ever seek the truth,
Or like many preoccupied humans
Do you just seek food, mate and eat?
Do you ever wonder what it’s all about,
This uncertain fleeting life?
Or are you born like Zen birds
Not needing to question existence
Not concerned with the transience
Having built-in Buddha Minds
And free tickets to Nirvana?

Bob Boyd