Lab Rats

I keep hearing aliens created us,
As if we were mere lab specimens –
Experiments.

Cannot accept this contrary notion,
As if we were not creations of –
God.

Of course because I cannot accept it
Doesn’t mean it is –
Untrue.

Nonetheless, I choose to wholeheartedly believe
Aliens implanted those notions in abductees –
Minds.

Or trolling tricksters seeking some laughs,
Maybe some attention, made up those –
Stories.

Bob Boyd

I love Cats But

I love cats
How they purr
How they meow
How the snuggle up to you
How how they look adorable
How they potty train themselves
How they are ideal for apartments
How they like to be petted all the time
How they can live in an apartment without disturbing neighbors

But

I can’t handle them jumping on tables, especially kitchen tables
I can’t handle them jumping on the sink next to drying dishes
I can’t handle how they can scratch up furniture

Maybe someday I’ll get one.

Bob Boyd

Conversion

Cancer and heart failure robbed him
At seventy and six years of perfect health,
His immortality evaporated, illusion exposed
Reduced to an endangered, terminal mortal.
Death sensing the opportunity drooled and circled
Like a ravenous vulture eyeballing vulnerable him.
Resigned to the inevitably of that hungry bird reaper
Consuming his tenuous mortal life someday
Decided he needed roadmaps before
His assisted departure into the Great Beyond.
Remembered NDEs he read in the seventies,
Reread about the Life Review, the White Light,
The Unconditional Love none wanted to leave,
The true home, more real, less dreamlike
Then the earthbound temporary life.
Listened to many NDEs on YouTube,
Heard about the order in the chaos,
Seen by some of the NDErs, clinically dead.
Death became the ultimate awakening.
He wanted to experience the mysteries, the wonders.
Then he read horrible NDEs of atheists, terrified,
thought they were in Hell, demons, hellfire, damnation.
Desperate, tormented, horrified, thought about Christ,
Hoping for help, suspended their hard nosed disbeliefs,
Prayed and pleaded to Christ, saw no other way out.
He heard their contrite prayers, appeared in Light,
Whooshed them out of the fires and torments of Hell.
Returned to life Believers, some became ministers.
The newly minted mortal awed by the validation
Asked Christ to forgive his sins and come into his life.
Full blown Believer miraculously morally enhanced
Looks forward to meeting Christ at the doorway to death.

Bob Boyd

Tin Hat

Given billions of planets are considered habitable
Believed life had to exist on other planets
Somewhere.

Didn’t believe all the claims of UFO sightings
And numerous abduction claims in the US
Until —

The government came clean and acknowledged
The Existence.

Now the gates of my mind have opened
And torrents of UFO and abduction stories
Pour In.

Tall Whites, Grays, Reptilians, Nordics and more,
Aliens living in the sea, underground, shape shifting,
Mutilating cows, experimenting on humans,
Impregnating young women, collecting human semen,
Colluding with the Government, might be
Advanced human Civilizations time traveling,
Benevolent or malevolent agendas. Does anyone
Know For Sure?

My mind is so flooded, so overwhelmed, with
Theories so vast, I was better off, a simpler life,
Before I put on a tin hat and gave credence
To It All.

Bob Boyd

Mortality

The clock is ticking. Your life is running out.
Is that important or a thought avoided by you,
Your inescapable, destined demise?
Or most of the time do you fool yourself
Unconsciously feeling like you’ll live forever
Even though sometimes you wake up
And your mortality briefly makes you uneasy
Quickly suppressed, hidden in your mind
Too dreadful a reality to dwell upon.
Till a life threatening medical condition
Invades your body and your anxious mind
And your mortality becomes front and center.
But that possible clock stop can be liberating,
A time for great personal and spiritual growth.

Bob Boyd

Separation

They’d been together 44 years
until at age 70 when
her mind began to slip
and blanked out.

Then it became like
they were no
longer together –
she didn’t know him
anymore.

His heart broke at
her loss of memory,
her loss of self
recognition.

He still loved her, but
she no longer loved him or
knew who he was. Love was not
supposed to be like that.

Bob Boyd

Rasboras

Rasboras, rasboras, why is your species always on the bottom of my aquarium?
Plentiful food carefully scattered on surface of the aquarium, ignored by you.
How do you keep from starving? I never see you eat.
Since you remain alive and don’t get emaciated.
You must, no offense, be bottom feeders subsisting on fallen flakes from the surface table.
But why not go first class and swim to the top and enjoy the full buffet?
In truth, you’re a never ending submerged mystery to me.
Thought you’d be all over the tank like a bright tailed, rambunctious guppy.
You just scurry around barely above the bottom, otherwise you seem to be hiding.
A snail is more fun, a turtle more active. Maybe you’re just shy.
Despite those seeming drawbacks, you have an uncanny appeal.
Your swimming is unconventional, you dart instead of true swimming.
And unlike duller colored fish, you are an attractive strawberry color.
And I must admit in rare moments I do see you dart almost to the surface.
Maybe one of you is an anomaly or a rebel rebelling, who occasionally breaks free.
Fun to watch, cool to see, rasboras, rasboras.

Bob Boyd

Old Single Women Nonsense

Tired of old single women
I’m too old for their nonsense
lack the patience, won’t engage,
better an old monk poet,
and compassionate helper.

Sticking with poetry and Service —
loves of my life, writing poems,
helping people.

Blissful with the right woman,
finding one at my age,
risks of ongoing drama,
tensions, disappointments,
ripples in my unperturbed
tranquility.

I don’t take these women
seriously; some far too
young; some touched me,
as if interested,
means nothing,
foolish girly games
too old to play.

Having a quiet peaceful life.
raising the MGTOW banner
going full monk mode,
maybe better luck in
the afterlife, a soulmate
awaiting me, my heart,
my mind, free of the
old single woman
nonsense here.

Bob Boyd

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