dark clouds invaded the night
wolves howled
cryptids shrieked
aliens fled
humans and animals hid
the nukes were on the way
and hell had broken loose

Bob Boyd

I dreamt I was sitting next to a lion in a dream.
The lion appears peaceful but for how long?
For some reason, I cannot just walk away.
Insanely, I reach over to the lion and
pet him a bit.

The lion doesn’t show any reactions,
which worries me. I don’t know if he is going
to snap and bite my head off.

A dog appears in the dream and bumbles
toward the lion, and I’m worried for the dog.
The lion seems to tolerate the dog, but I
feel a sense of unease for the dog’s safety.

Just as the lion opens his mouth and puts
the dog’s entire head in it, I wake up.

Bob Boyd

on the island of in orkney scotland
stands a nearly round rock formation
of 26 stones, originally 60 stones
estimated to date as far back as
2500 BC or even further back

no one knows what the purpose
of it was, who built it or the exact
date it was built

some believe it was for astronomical
or magical purposes

perhaps it was for mystical purposes
to summon forces from beyond
or to pay homage to ancient gods

whatever the case, it’s a fascinating
mysteries that may remain unknown.

bob boyd

she was in her 20s
i was in my seventies
and she liked the
way I looked
despite my advanced
age
she always flirted with me
and nearly drove me crazy
with her alluring attention
her adorable looks
her cute petite body
and her sweetest voice
that I’d ever heard
but i was in my seventies
and she was in her twenties
and it just didn’t add up
and i couldn’t cross that
ever so tempting line

bob boyd

I’ve never understood men who pay for sex with prostitutes.
It always seemed empty and shoddy to me.
I’ve heard some of their excuses:
“You pay for it one way or another.”
“I just want sex without the drama.”
“Do you think a gold digger is any different from a prostitute?”
“I like the excitement of a woman who knows all the sexual tricks.”

Maybe there’s a little validity in some of their excuses,
but I’d think these men would prefer a wholesome relationship
rather than a quickie with a woman who sees men as only customers.

Yet, there are men who have wholesome relationships, even married ones, who resort to paying women for sex.
Maybe there’s the lure of being with women more attractive
than they feel they could ever be with romantically.
Or maybe they’re just morally deficient and see paying for sex
more thrilling than the more fulfilling sex in a loving relationship.

Bob Boyd

It pissed me off when I heard a woman in her fifties
refer to a pedophile as a minor attracted person,
as if sexually abusing a child was a trivial matter,
as if being a pedophile was an acceptable perversion.
I was thinking to myself the police should keep an eye on her.
I wondered if her trivializing an abhorrent crime against children meant she was guilty of it.
If not, I wondered how she got so screwed up in the head
that she made light of the sexual abuse of a kid.
But perhaps she was borderline evil and got off on
fantasies of terrible things being done to children.
Whatever the case, who in their right mind would
ever trivialize the harming of a child?

Bob Boyd

I hear the rain beating against my apartment windows.
It’s so loud it sounds like an invading army
trying to lay siege upon my apartment.
After a while it gives up, as if winded from the failed invasion.
It’s like the aftermath of a battle when the din is done.
And it seems like the world is at peace again.

Bob Boyd

Because we don’t talk or show our feelings
And are powerless to defend ourselves
And we’re nonviolent maybe to a fault,

Lesser evolved barbaric humans
Heartlessly feel they have the right
To slaughter and eat us.

As if our inability to defend ourselves
And our silent Gandhian nonviolent nature
Were a green light for their
Slaughter and wanton consumption
Of us all over the world.

This is analogous to the
Colonizers who take over
Countries often with bloodshed,
Except colonizers don’t cook and eat
Those colonized as humans do gentle us.

But know this, and know it well!

As I clearly see with my prophetic sight
The meek will inherit the earth
And the last shall be first. That’s us.

It will happen when the loathsome humans
Are nuked and cooked by their bombs,
When they perish to the last soy eater,
And their bodies are eaten by the earth.

Then Freedom! Glorious freedom at last
Will ring out of our hidden hearts
All over the newborn soy world!

Bob Boyd

I’m Helen Duncan, clairvoyant, psychic and reputable medium
Born in Scotland, lived from 1897 to 1956. In 1941 during WW2
Unjustly accused of, and condemned for, being the last witch in Britain.
Arrested under the nonsense 1735 Witchcraft Act.
My crime, Duckies, being too bloody good at what I did.
In 1941 channeled a dead, drowned sailor who had a secret,
And the authorities locked me up, claimed I was a bloody spy.
Nonsense! Rubbish! The spirit of the deceased sailor revealed
to people at the seance a British naval ship, HMS Barham, had been sunk.
Through no fault of mine, the news was supposed to be Top Secret.
The skeptical authorities didn’t listen to the facts and sentenced
Me to nine months in jail for my indisputable spirit summoning skills,
Like the daft people who believe the moon is made of cheese.

Bob Boyd

Suspected of committing atrocities in the name of Satan
Nine witches and three sorcerers arrested
All innocent, but alleged to have killed many villagers
With nefarious spells, like blowing on a person and killing with breath
To determine guilt or innocence the twelve were were tossed into the water
Eleven who sank and drowned, good Christians going to heaven
The one who didn’t sink and drown right away condemned to the stake
Before she was burned at the stake, cursed the village of Mâlain
Claimed the curse would happen on the day of her death
Seven judges who passed judgment on her unconcerned about the curse
But were summoned to Paris for unjustly killing innocent people
Their claims of witchcraft rejected, the judges sentenced
Hanged to death on the gallows at the end of 1640

Bob Boyd

Leaves fluttering in the wind
Branches swaying slightly
Squirrel frolicking on tree limbs
Hidden Birds singing melodies
Nature in harmony
No chaos in sight
Profane leaf blower
Destroys the peace

Bob Boyd

listening to an old song by paul anka
i’m really feeling the part where he sings
about the warmth of a woman’s hand in his

i’m remember the long forgotten
feeling of holding hands with a woman

and the first time i held hands with
a girlfriend when i was a teenager
it was like an instinctive thing
and oh god how wonderful it felt

and oh how i would have liked
that feeling to last forever
like i felt in that moment
that my teenage love would

ah me, the memories of an old man
who once felt like he’d be young forever

bob boyd

i am like a god to the fish in my 5 aquariums
when I bestow food upon them from above twice daily

they swim so devotedly toward me
when i deign to approach their bubbling fish tanks

like supplicants seeing a vision of their god
like devotees ecstatic at the sight of their almighty

but i’m just kidding around here
they only get excited when they see me

because i am only like a lesser god
when from above i bring them food

otherwise i’m just another human schmuck to them
that they would pay little or no attention to

bob boyd

I remember how you smiled at me at my Medicare Presentation.
And days later I saw you at the senior center and you smiled at me again.
I waved at you wondering what was behind that beautiful smile.
How I wish I’d gotten to know the you behind that smile,
The most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.
I suspect the inner you was far more beautiful.
But, alas, ships passed, never will I know
All the wonderful, loving treasures inside of you.
I never even knew your name, and I know I’ll never see you again.
Now you’re just a sweet memory in this repressed romantic’s imagination
Thinking about another one of those maybes that might have been.
And, ah me, my life has become like a walking soap opera.

Bob Boyd

You might look in the mirror and see wrinkles,
an old woman where once a young one stood.
To me you’re still beautiful, as desirable as ever.
Pity we’re not together.

Bob Boyd