Category: Poems

State sponsored media
is what we got

the needle so far to the left
it broke

and ended objective journalism
and started fake news

and fooled many fools

Bob Boyd

Lovelier than spring
Warmer than summer
Never met another
As wonderful as her
Her name was Sara
And we were in love
For many seasons
Until our love ended
On a cold winter’s day

Bob Boyd

I woke up when she came to bed. I pretended to be asleep.
I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to talk to her.
I’d checked her phone that morning and found out
She’d emailed her eighth-grade student illicit photos
And been having sex in her car with the kid.

I pretended to be asleep because I was furious with her,
And was afraid of becoming too unhinged and
Too murderously enraged, completely out of my mind,
Because of her shocking, criminal activity with a child.
I felt like throwing up at the thought of her molesting a kid.

I called in sick at work the next day, too sick at heart to work.
I packed my suitcases and left her a note about what I’d found.
A day later, her affair with the kid was all over the news.
The police arrested her at the school where she worked.
And I couldn’t stay with a wife who cheated with a kid.

Bob Boyd

Michael never had the human hunger for romantic love.
I never understood how he could live without that primal need.
He had female admirers, some beautiful, but he didn’t care.
He said for him life was better lived solo and free.

I said you’re a better man than me after I’d broken up
With a woman who cheated on me,
After thinking about a friend who got divorced and
Lost everything to his ex wife in a divorce court.

Micheal became a Buddhist monk in Denver, Colorado
In a large Tibetan Buddhist community in the mountains.
Eventually my divorced friend and I vowed to never love again
And we joined Michael at the Buddhist community in Denver,
We shaved our heads, meditated, chanted Buddhist sutras,
Became full-fledged monks and followed the precepts.

We’d found ourselves in the exciting world of Buddhism,
Freed from attachments, the agonizing need for romantic love,
And the risks of ending up disappointed and broken-hearted.

A year later we became disenchanted with being monks,
The nagging, primal need for love overpowered our resolve.
We fell in love with two disenchanted nuns in the community
Left the community with them and got married to them,
The primal power of love satisfied, our lives fairytale happy.

Bob Boyd

Sunny days and dark nights
What life is about
Good days bad days
You have to ride out
The good
And the bad
And hope
You get more
Good days
Than bad days
But no guarantees
You can do everything right
And things still go wrong
You can do everything wrong
And things still go right
No guarantees

Bob Boyd

Though we’re continents apart
My heart is with you

Though we haven’t met face to face
I’m still loving you

Though we may never meet in this life
I’ll never stop loving you

Bob Boyd

A superstar football player
In his glorious prime
Won many trophies
Player of the year
Hall of famer
But fame came with
A dangerous cost

Suffered head injuries
Chronic brain damage
Depression and tremors
Thoughts of suicide
Compromised balance
Dementia at age 50
Dead from a fall
at age 55

Bob Boyd

Some politicians
Your public servants
Get rich while in office
Work for themselves
Love the power
Adore the perks
And pretend to
Be working for
Deplorable you

Bob Boyd

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