This seems fair. To me it seems just that
you kill the predator of your prized pigeons.

But, alas, hawks are protected by Federal Laws,
and if you kill one in Florida, you could be fined

up to $10,000 and put in jail of up to six months,
and you may be prohibited from racing or

exhibiting your pigeons ever again. I find that
unjust. It gives the hawk free reign in slautering

your pigeons. And it is nonsensical that a hawk
is allowed to slaughter one’s pigeon.

It makes no goddamn sense is what I’m trying
to say in the proverbial plain English.

And outrageous that the owner of racing pigeons
gets screwed over in the courts of law.

And the hawk can go on killing prized racing
pigeons with impunity. That law needs to change.

Bob Boyd

Leah lived in the background of her prettier sister’s life.
Her parents favored her sister. She was more popular
in school. And she got better grades than Leah did.
Leah suffered from an inferiority complex and she
blamed her sister for it. One day her pretty sister
disappeared and was found drowned in a nearby lake.
And the police called it accidental. Only Leah knew it
was no accident, and her life got better thereafter.

Bob Boyd

Just as he peers out of his bedroom window
he sees the moon is full

as if on cue, he hears the werewolf howling
not far from his house

the howls keep growing louder
nearer

he has wolfsbane planted around his home
a protective barrier

sprinkled salt surrounds his house too
supposedly it wards of werewolves

he has garlic hanging on the doors
and the windows

he has silver items on his person
another alleged werewolf repellent

a crucifix hangs around his neck
he’s hoping that will work too

he’s new at staving off werewolves
crosses his fingers for luck

and hopes those werewolf repellents work
that he read about in a book

but luck was not with him that night
the repellents were just ineffective folk tales

the werewolf, a spurned ex girlfriend, broke into
his home, tore him to shreds

in the last moments of his screaming, terrifying death
he regretted he didn’t buy the gun and silver bullets .

Bob Boyd

You’re wasting your love on that woman,
but you cannot see that yet

you’re enamored with her honeysuckle
southern accent and her bewitching beauty

you don’t know it yet because she’s hiding
her dark nature

a year from now she will steal some of your money
and be messing with a married man

you will leave her with your heart broken
and your mind in tatters

and, believe me, you won’t forget her
she’ll be unforgettable in your memory banks

filed under good times and bad times with
a deceitful southern woman

Bob Boyd

I just remembered an event from my past
when I was often partying and drunk
a friend I knew introduced me to a woman
in a bar and we seemed to have simpatico
she gave me her phone number and I
thought maybe we’d go out on a date
but when I called the number the next
day it was a wrong number
pondering that event I think it was
for the best since she was deceptive
and even if it worked out we probabaly
would have broken up anyway
a heartache I wouldn’t have needed
and I’m not eating sour grapes

Bob Boyd

People fighting, women screaming,
it’s a wild weekend night in Sheffield, England
police all over the streets quelling the mayhem
one erratic man keeps taunting the police
shouts at them and asks them to arrest him
and he’s acting like he’s on an amphetamine
surprisingly he doesn’t get his wish
an inebriated woman yelling and restrained
by three police gets escorted into a police van
what a waste of her femininity
I remember when police vans were paddy wagons
and not as many women got drunk on their asses
a skinny guy with his shirt off is acting crazy
as if he wants to fight someone while a man
plays a mellow song with a guitar in the background
the skinny guy puts his shirt back on
later the police pin him against a wall and probably
arrest him and stuff him in the van too
I think he had too much to drink and got beer muscles
a crowd of men about to fight are separated
by other men before police rush in and quell the craziness
I’m glad I’m not in Sheffield tonight
it’s too out of control and two many crazies are in the streets
in must be a full moon in Sheffield
for such a wild weekend night of mayhem there
I’m glad I’m at my computer far away from it

Bob Boyd

I remember her briefly.
She came to work at
the same place I did.
She seemed nice.
She seemed normal.
Then a week later
she didn’t show up
for work, and I learned
she had killed herself.
I couldn’t believe it.
She didn’t seem as
if she was suicidal. I
don’t know how she
killed herself, and I
really didn’t want to
know, but so sad she
did it. So sad she died.
I hope she went to a
heavenly place where
she could be happy
and be healed.

Bob Boyd

Have you any idea why a guy would say a man
who died was a lucky bastard?

Of course it sounds contrary. How could someone
that died be a lucky bastard?

The answer is he had died himself, but temporarily,
and what he saw and experienced

made him want to stay dead forever in the place
of bliss and love that he was in.

So to him, someone who got there permanently
was a lucky bastard.

And I tend to believe he was right and that what
he said was true.

Bob Boyd

When I met with Mark, he said
he had an AI girlfriend. I thought
he was kidding until he took out
his cell phone and introducted
her to me. She sounded and
talked so much like a human
that I thought he was kidding.
After a while, I realized he was
serious, and that the voice was
an AI girlfriend.

I spent an hour talking to him
and her. After that I could see
what he saw in her, and I wished
him well. Surprised by his choice
a machine over a real woman,
I did a lot of thinking about it.
I concluded if an AI girlfriend
made him happy, why not.
That was six years ago, and
Mark is still happy and in love
with his AI girlfriend. And I have
to admit, he’s had better luck
with her than I have had with
real women.

Bob Boyd