Dandelions beheaded
Grass shorn
Weeds clipped
Earth disheveled
Ants terrified
Worms in turmoil
Some insects dead
Squirrels in disarray
Robins panicked
Blue Jays alarmed
Noise pollution
Bombs the air
The mower man
Rides again.
Bob Boyd
Talking to Machines
I just had an epiphany.
For some time,
I’ve been annoyed at
Having to talk to machines
Instead of people,
Practically everywhere
I call nowadays.
But at least
No machine
Has ever been
A jerk to me.
Bob Boyd
Invasion of the Palmetto Bugs
I lived in Florida for about twelve years
I liked the little lizards that seemed to constantly do push ups
Maybe it was a male mating thing, showing off to a lady lizard
They reminded of the lizards on the backs of comic books
You could send away for when I was a kid in Massachusetts
The palmetto bugs were another matter, a scourge to me
Giant obnoxious cockroaches that invaded everything relentlessly
And don’t think you could leave a lovely display of fruit on a table Overnight
A palmetto bug’s delight, probably snack on it in the night to your Fright
In the morning light when you saw it scurry away and tried to kill It
And if you succeeded in killing one, no problem to the palmetto bugs
More awaited the chance to invade your dwelling and annoy the Hell out of you
And when they died invading your home, they probably thought they’d be
Rewarded with a hundred palmetto virgins in a palmetto bug Heaven
My worst encounter with one of these bastard bugs was when I saw one six feet up on a garage wall. When I went to attack him he flew off the wall nearly dive bombing into me. Shocked, I never knew they could fly
A sight almost reminiscent of a monster in a horror movie
Crawling out of the grave coming back to life
And if you’re a palmetto bug reading this, imagine me giving the finger to you
And if you think I should be beyond such a crude gesture at my age
I never claimed to have completely grown up
After all, I’m the guy who can walk off a job after over twenty years Of working there
Provoked by an outrageous, unpardonable slight by the director. And I’m proud of that
Bob Boyd
The Lamas
The lamas were said to have preternatural powers,
Unattainable by most holy men and women.
Stories about their paranormal abilities, legendary.
Elite Tibetan priests, it seemed they could rule the skies
Or create impenetrable force fields to protect Tibet
By reciting powerful, sacred mantras and
Spinning massive prayer wheels continuously,
Releasing thousands of protective prayers.
Tragically, when the Chinese invaded Tibet
Their bullets were stronger than mantras
And spinning prayer wheels,
And the lamas had to flee.
Bob Boyd
Guru at Harvard U.
Saw the poster, the Guru at Harvard U
Thursdays 7 PM come experience him
Open to the public in a reserved room
Got there at 7, didn’t see the Guru
A Devotee said, he’s in Europe
But his consciousness will be here at 7
Wondered if that were true or imaginary
Devotees so gullible, believe anything.
At 7PM a phenomenal, palpable spiritual energy
Lit up the room. Sitting in meditation, I got blitzed
Lasted for hours, higher than I’d ever been
Devotees said the Guru meditated on them
Every night. Spiritual energy pouring in
Sometimes awakening them from sleep
Bona fide powerhouse guru
Most gurus couldn’t do what he could
Years past and the troubles began
Women coming forth and reporting
How the guru sexually abused them
A common tale with most of the gurus
Who came to America triumphantly
Like kids set loose in a candy store
They couldn’t resist the exotic treats
Didn’t care for the Hare Krishna Guru’s
Path with shaved heads, the chanting, etc
But at least A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada
The real deal who behaved like a true and saintly guru.
Bob Boyd
Oh How I loved Your Beautiful Red Hair
I must have been sixteen
When I saw you at the dance.
With your red hair you looked beautiful.
I always loved the uniqueness of red hair, still do.
I asked you to dance, surprisingly you accepted.
Tongue tied, overcome by your beauty, I couldn’t talk.
You didn’t talk either. Maybe you felt the same way.
I remember when you and two other girls phoned me.
Not sure how you ladies got my phone number,
Didn’t care, a compliment to have three girls calling me.
I didn’t know you were one of them until you said you danced with me.
And kidding, I said, “You were lucky.” You cracked me up when you said, “No you were lucky!” and told me you were the red-headed girl.
In retrospect had I been wiser back then I would have said
You are right and told you how blown away I was by your red hair
And your beautiful looks, and how I was too shy to start a conversation.
How I hate possible missed opportunities like that,
All those if onlys. And God Almighty I had so many misses.
Bob Boyd
Amy, Lady Dudley (nee Robsart 7 June 1532 – 8 September 1560)
Amy Robsart married Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester,
A loveless marriage, the earl wanted Queen Elizabeth I,
And Queen Elizabeth fell in love with him.
Amy heard a rumor she was going to be poisoned to death
To get her out of the way so the Earl could be with the queen.
Amy died from a suspicious fall down a flight of stairs;
Some believed she was pushed. Preachers proclaimed foul play.
A ghost began haunting Kenilworth Castle where Amy lived,
Thought to be Amy from dying a shocking death.
Supposedly she appeared before Robert Dudley
And told her husband, “Soon you’ll be joining me.”
Dudley died a few days later.
Oh Amy were you really a ghost
Or were the apparitions just
Low frequency sounds causing
Strange feelings and fake visions?
Whatever the cause, ghost or sounds,
tragic you died under suspicious
Circumstances and didn’t have a full life.
Bob Boyd
A Young College Girl’s Demise
Good girl, honor roll in high school
Nice, caring, friendly and well liked
Went to church, remained a virgin
Her hard work in high school
Earned her a scholarship
With the University of Vermont
First year, studied hard day and night
Wasn’t there to party
Focused on good grades
And becoming a social worker
In her Sophomore year met a senior
Didn’t know he was a playboy
Who’d slept with many women
And bragged about his conquests
After many dates and persuasions
Took her virginity and moved on
Gave the young college girl AIDS
Does that seem fair to you?
And this poem isn’t fiction.
Bob Boyd
A Young College Girl
A Young College Girl
Good girl, honor roll in high school
Nice, caring, friendly and well liked
Went to church, remained a virgin
Her hard work in high school
Earned her a scholarship
With the University of Vermont
First year, studied hard there
Wasn’t there to party
Focused on good grades
And becoming a social worker
In her Sophomore year met a senior
Didn’t know he was a playboy
Who’d slept with many women
Bragged about all his conquests
After many dates and persuasions
Took her virginity and moved on
Gave the young college girl AIDS
Does that seem fair to you?
Bob Boyd
Three Sisters
One became a PhD
The other an MD
The third never
Amounted to anything
According to her critical mother
An underachiever
A ne’er do well
Never went to college
Lacked the expected ambition
Required of the three sisters
In their high achievers family
Father a prominent lawyer
Mother a distinguished professor
Sister number three just
Worked selling ladies shoes
In an upscale retail store
When the mother and father
Got old and became seriously ill
One and two, too busy with their careers
Number three was there for her parents
Their Caregiver twenty four hours a day
Until they both came to their final ends
Bob Boyd
Annihilation
Dark clouds mass
Fauna feel it
Run for cover
A conflagration
Coming
Flora sense it
Petals close
Flowers fade
Baba Vanda
Predicted it
Too late
Humans saw it
World in flames
Many dead
Hopes and
Dreams gone
If only
Christ had
Come again….
Bob Boyd
Feline Dirge at the Door
When a kid in the fifties had to bury a family cat,
Buried in the woods. The burial felt eerie to me.
Late that night cats meowing at our front door,
Seemed a paranormal frightening thing.
Somehow the cats must have known
Their friend, our family cat, had died.
And like people crying at a funeral,
They were mourning their dead friend
With a group funeral dirge that
Sounded like something from Hell.
Thank God they didn’t dig up the cat
And drop her at our front door.
I felt bad enough losing our beloved pet
And hated having to bury her.
Bob Boyd
Watching Dead People Dance
Going way back to the twenties on YouTube
Seeing people dancing back then, young and merry,
All dead, their dancing done, all in the ground,
A sobering reminder of life’s transience.
Not always easy to really get the grim fate
Awaiting you and me when our dancing is done.
Living like we’re here forever, even though we know better.
Sad how many leave the dance younger than age thirty three.
Often wonder why many so young have to die, never living full lives;
Sometimes I say things like maybe they were needed in heaven sooner,
Or perhaps God needed more angels in heaven.
But those words are insufficient to answer the ultimate: Why?
And the seeming injustice of it all. God’s call.
Bob Boyd
DeLorenzo
DeLorenzo made a big mistake in the city I’m from,
Key witness to murders in the east of the city.
Thought he was a fearless gangster but kind of a punk,
Refused police protection too tough for that
Could take care of himself, no problem.
The killers ain’t gonna do anything to me
They can go straight to Hell.
Shortly after that, Delorenzo disappeared.
Suspicions pointed to the East Side Gang.
Everybody in the pool hall I hung out in knew that;
The word was prominent on the street.
No clues needed. Obvious. Open and shut.
He should never have messed with East Side
Or chosen to rat them out to the police.
All that eventually turned up of Delorenzo
Was one of his arms in the local dump.
No witness, no DNA, the killers went free.
One knocked him out. Another held him down.
A third ran over him with a car relentlessly
Until he was stone cold dead.
Bob Boyd
Calling It a Day
The Pavement’s sizzling sitting in the merciless sun,
Got no money, no job, no friends, no wife, no life.
Used to be a high flying CEO, had the monied, extravagant life
Blew it all beginning with white lines on my plush desk
In my executive suite. Lost it all, even a beautiful, faithful wife,
That looked kind of like a famous social worker, Madonna Moss.
Now I shuffle in the sad streets screwed up and bumming money
For more drugs and the never lasting euphoric high, reduced to that.
Diving in dumpsters behind fast food restaurants for garbage food.
The homeless shelter doctor says I haven’t long to live, a year at best,
Doesn’t matter to me, my life sucks; it’s over anyway. I’m done.
Tomorrow I might jump off a bridge or walk in front of a freight train
And take my chances, heaven or hell if either exists, don’t care where.
If I can get a gun, I’ll put it to my head, pull the trigger and call it a day.
Bob Boyd
Robots and Cancer at the Grocery Store
Packaging shrinking, prices going up.
Cashers being replaced by self service machines.
Robots coming to replace grocery store workers.
Meet your local grocery store manager, Mr. AI.
More food alleged to give us cancer
No matter which ones we eat.
Maybe the cause of younger people getting cancer,
Hidden in the food, a head of lettuce a death sentence,
Peas and carrots in a can, seeds of future cancers.
I write this sitting here eating junk food copiously,
Playing Russian Roulette with my health, supposedly.
I’m 79, had cancer, and it doesn’t matter to me.
Bob Boyd
A Thieving Girlfriend
Last time I saw her she drove off with my car,
Unfortunately she stole it after arguing with me.
I called the police, they put out an APB.
A clever woman, she evaded the police
And drove to parts unseen never seen.
Ten years later I saw her in a dream.
She asks me to forgive her. I did.
Then I see an old shaped grave
That seems connected to her,
But I cannot read her name on it.
In the dream the name of the town
An hour’s drive away
Is somehow revealed to me.
I visited the town, explored graveyards
Until in a little old Methodist Church
I find her in the church graveyard,
Beloved Minster Joyce Matthews
1952 to 2021.
Bob Boyd
An Ordinary Woman
She seemed like a nice ordinary woman
I was falling for her on the first date
I loved her bright blue eyes
And the way she laughed
We talked about many things
We had so much in common
Everything was wonderful
Until I drove her home
Went to kiss her goodnight
And her fangs came out
Bob Boyd
Woman in White
In a graveyard mourning my recently deceased sister
I spied a willowy white-haired woman dressed in white
She was elderly but still beautiful and fetching
With a siren like quality that was getting my attention
She beckoned me to her with an enticing smile
As if she knew me, and we’d been close before
Reluctant, I didn’t want to walk over to her
I started feeling uneasy about the strange graveyard situation
With one finger, she motioned me over, her face looking evil
I felt like a lifeless puppet on a string
With my mind subdued and no will power I began to falter
But I somehow regained my resistance despite the horror
And she swore at me and said on this day I curse you
Before the day is out misfortune will befall you
She hissed at me and walked to a nearby grave and oh my God
She sank into it like she was sinking into water
She must have been a ghost. No trace of her
Going into the ground was visible
Freaked out, I ran to my car and hopped in it
I drove out of the cemetery like a fireman going to 4 alarm fire
An unseen force took control of the steering wheel
And crashed me into a tree, my head smashing into the windshield
I woke up in the hospital and screamed
The attendant nurse looked exactly like the woman in white
Bob Boyd
A Great Guru
The young husband and wife
Had an incredibly powerful guru
With many paranormal powers
Mostly seen on a blanket in India
Hailed as a great sage by
New Age notables of the day.
To have a guru that great
Was a boon from God,
And one was granted
The unfailing protection
Of a cosmically guarded life,
Provided by a fully enlightened guru.
But something went awry
In a car in a garage in America.
The wife killed herself
With carbon monoxide.
The great guru couldn’t save her,
Perhaps he was a charlatan,
Or the protections of great gurus
Are only bankrupt guarantees.
Bob Boyd