When I was in the Air Force decades ago
after basic training I was told to select
where I wanted to be stationed next

I had two choices: I picked England or Japan,
but as usually is the case, you don’t get
either one.

I was sent to Zweibruecken, Germany instead

I was single and in my late teens then and
dreamed of having an exotic girlfriend,
an English or a Japanese one in either order

though while in Germany, I got to see Paris
and Rome, and a pope in a balcony,
I never made it to England or Japan

and never found an exotic girlfriend,
which back then, wild as I was,
was probably for the best.

Bob Boyd

Some people are about
small talk all or most of
the time

they seem able to small
talk almost incessantly

some hang out in places
where they small talk
for hours

me, I couldn’t do that
I’d get too bored

except with a woman
I loved

I could listen to her
small talk endlessly
as if her words

were the most important
words on the planet

as if her words
were like the words from
an angel talking to me

I guess love can make
small talk as big and

as wonderful as if the
words poured right
out of the heavens –
at least for me.

Bob Boyd

Do we meet people in dreams
that we never met before?
Sometimes I think we might,
that maybe dreams intersect.
I’ve seen many people in dreams
that I never knew in this world.
I’ve wondered if they were real
people who were seeing me
in the dream too.
But unaware that they
were as real as me.
Then again, are these people
living in this world, or on
another plane of existence,
or are they all imaginary?
I’ve seen deceased people
I knew in a couple of dreams.
I believe those were more
than ordinary dreams
I think they were ADCs,
After Death Communications.
I’ve often seen attractive
women in dreams, never
erotic, sometimes romantic,
and wondered if there are
any people who have
real romances in dreams,
like real dream lovers.
Maybe dreams are just
dreams, but I believe
dreams are sometimes more
than just dreams.

Bob Boyd

Sometimes I feel a little lonely and think
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have one last love in my life,
Maybe the one I’d waited a lifetime for, the ultimate real thing.
Then I think but at your age and at the old age she’d probably be,
One of you is going to die on the other. You don’t want that either way,
And it’s going to go the way of the world: Nothing lasts forever.

Imagine waking up and finding the woman who was the love of your life
Dead in bed beside you? Do you want to chance going through that,
The shock, the pain, the misery, the loss, the never ending grieving?
And you know you wouldn’t want anyone else after her.
And what if you died first leaving her all alone, one instead of two,
Heartbroken endlessly, maybe never getting over the loss of you.

But then I remember all the NDEs and Deathbed Visions and more
I’ve read and heard over the years, and doctors reporting theirs.
And I recall how in deathbed visions a dying spouse often sees
The deceased spouse in white light to guide the dying spouse into the afterlife,
As if true love triumphs, finds a way, the fairy tale forever and ever.

Then I think about all the amazing NDEs, road maps into the afterlife,
The unconditional love that no one wants to return to this life from.
NDEers saying the other side is more real, this life only dreamlike.
And I think to myself if she died before me, I could accept it,
Knowing she’d have gone on to the higher, better life.
And I’d believe when upon my death bed, she’d be there waiting for me.

But I’m a repressed romantic, and these are just silly things
I sometimes dream about.

Bob Boyd

I don’t believe in a Satan
But I see a satanic evil
In all those witch hunts
Of those shameful days
The tortures, the burnings
Evil’s unholy biddings
Church collusion
Mothers daughters
Sisters wives
Begging crying
Sobbing pleading
Cast into the fires
Tender women
Brutally treated
Murdered
By deceived
Heartless
Cruel men
Acting like
Hell’s demons
Wickedness
Worthy of
A devil’s praise

Bob Boyd

On her dating app she required a man
making 500k per year.
Anything less was nonnegotiable.
He read her bio, felt her displayed goods were
way overpriced.
He shopped for other women at discounted
prices.
He found one at 200k, still more than he
wanted to pay or could afford,
even on a monthly payment plan.
Despite her boasts about
all her educational credentials,
he didn’t find anything in her inflated bio
worth the exorbitant expenditure.
He shopped through the other selections
and found some without price tags on
their love.
He chose a kind and beautiful free spirit,
who cared more about a man’s heart
than his bank account.
They met, dated, kissed
and fell in non-commercial love.

Bob Boyd

Today my laundry clothes spinner
konked out on me

instead of a death rattle it its throat
it went out with a rattling

grinding metallic parts
in last gasp death throes

what the hell! I’d only had it a paltry year
was it a victim of planned obsolescence

or did I get ripped off with a lousy product
poorly manufactured, doomed to an early death?

Bob Boyd

Lovely treasures from
or originally from
the East

exotic, ladylike,
well mannered
often petite
sweet but not docile
a mistake
sometimes made
about them

a refreshing flavor
of the feminine
elegant and regal
at least to me

I don’t obsess over them
as some men do
like an Asian flu

I just appreciate
their uniqueness
and see them mostly
as high quality women

and one of the many treasures
the East has given
to the world.

Bob Boyd

September 5th, 2025
on a YouTube Short video
a once pretty, young woman
out of it and bent over
screaming on her knees
in shoeless, stocking feet
banging one of her shoes
against the sidewalk
under a Great Wall sign
of a Chinese food restaurant
she gets up totally screwed up
bangs her shoe against a wall
still screaming like a maniac
she walks into traffic oblivious
to car horns beeping frantically
she almost gets run over
still screaming, she vanishes
out of view and goes nowhere
God have mercy on that
young woman’s tormented soul
and save her from the demons
of the drugs she has ingested.

Bob Boyd

Jenna lives on the streets of Kensington Avenue
somebody’s daughter, once with a future
now she’s like a mindless zombie
and bent over swaying back and forth
her life fucked up from Fentynal
there seems to be no help for her
the politicians don’t seem to give a shit
about what has happened to her
she’s not one of their daughters
she doesn’t matter, an acceptable casualty
one of their many inconvenient eyesores
who like so many other lost souls
will probably die on the streets of Kensington.

Bob Boyd