She was driving
He was sleeping
Cities, towns
Mountains, meadows
Fields, farms
Streamed by
He opened his eyes
Saw God and knew
A semi had plowed
Into them and instantly
They were dead and
Had arrived at a
Better place than
Their earthbound
Idaho Destination
Angels sang and
They were in heaven

Bob Boyd

Heard an old song by the Carpenters
Called Yesterday Once More.
And it took me way back to a
Yesterday once more before all the
Division and the strife now in this life.
I remember cooler, smoother times
When news was more objective,
And nobody was crying fake news.
If I could invent a prototype time machine,
I’d be there having some happier times
Yesterday once more in those better days.

Bob Boyd

The man in the song is singing
He just don’t want to be lonely
Amazing how this seems to
Be a common denominator
In most of humankind as
Seemingly is the need to
Find true lasting love
Tragic how love often
Doesn’t last and many
Who just don’t want to
Be lonely are lonely at
The end of their lives
How I wish love could
Endure forever and
That no one would
Ever have to be lonely

Bob Boyd

Severe weather alert
Wind blasting rain
Into crazed sprays
Trees shaking madly
Raged pitter patter
Of raining striking
Houses and streets
Power going on and off
Nature in an upheaval
And the world is wet

Bob Boyd

Men’s designer shorts costing over
Seven hundred dollars
Essentially for the name on them
Maybe if you’re rich and
A status concerned sort
It’s all good and okay
But even were I rich
Never would I pay
An insanely exorbitant price
For a freakin’ pair of shorts

Bob Boyd

Too many times he squandered his heart pointlessly,
Might as well have thrown it into the seas of infinity,
Battered and bruised as it was in the wilds of the world.

Suffered through may broken hearted seasons,
Many fairy tale loves false, fractured delusions.
He wondered how his heart survived them all.

In the winter of his gray-haired, crumbling years,
Withdrew his heart from pointless, romantic pursuits,
Lived out his life a hermit, his heart unbroken.

Bob Boyd

She sold her body in the streets
Starting at only sixteen years
At a used up age twenty-six
One night one of her johns
Beat her so badly she died
Temporarily in the ICU
While on the exam table
Her spirit rose above her body
Into the white light and the
Care of the Unconditional Love
That NDEer’s call the Source
Returned to life a new person
Became like a reborn saint
Stopped selling her body
Spent the rest of her life
Saving troubled young girls
Selling themselves in the streets

Bob Boyd

Her husband went to war in Iraq
Like a good wife she waited for him.
Got too lonely after a long year.
Met a nice man with a good job.
Too lonely to resist the temptation
Of a romance to cure loneliness,
Fell in love with the nice man.
Wrote her husband a Dear John
Told him she wanted a divorce.
A week later he wrote her back,
Said he couldn’t live without her.
Not too long after that letter
He was blown to bits in the war.

Bob Boyd

He lost his high paying job
at age fifty five.

Supposedly not because
of age discrimination.

Supposedly it didn’t exist
for all the older people
who’d been axed from their jobs.

He couldn’t get another
high paying job,
Settled for a threadbare,
forced retirement.

Bob Boyd

Attended an open to the public
Hare Krishna dinner once in
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Liked the devotees
Their devotions
Their chanting
And their food

Didn’t like the dogma
Krishna was the only way
And Krishnaloka was the
Ultimate heavenly state
Where you had to
Strive to be forever
Otherwise you were lost

Was surprised at that
Hinduism is accepting
Of other religions usually

But maybe all those only ways
Are all completely right
and are each separate
Only ways In the mix
Of many paths
To the mountaintop

Or maybe all the only ways
have their own only way
heavens like the
Biblical many mansions
Kapish, Kemosabe?

Much respect to
The Hare Krishna’s
Esteemed founder
A.C. Bhaktivedanta
Swami Prabhupada
Unlike many gurus
Never a breath of a
Scandal about him
Seemed genuine
And saintly

Bob Boyd