I like crows
Their color,
Their sounds,
Their smarts,
But I don’t
Like how
They savage
Birds nests
When I see
Smaller birds
Flying after
Them.

But I guess
This is just
Nature
Birds and
Animals
Just doing
What they
Do.

Maybe
Like we
Kill and
Eat animals.
So maybe
Though
Most of us
Are good
People and
Wouldn’t
Savage little
Birds nests
We’re no
Better than
Crow behavior
When we
Savage and
Consume
Animals.

Bob Boyd

She told me she’d been a witch in a former life.
I had no quarrel with that but I doubted it.
We got involved and all was grand.
She began dressing in all black clothes
And bought herbs and began casting spells.
I had no quarrel with that and liked the herbs
And was grateful she didn’t wear a pointed black hat.
She adopted a black cat she called her familiar.
I had no quarrel with that and liked the cat.
One day a road raged driver shot me in the arm.
She said he seriously will pay for that and to
Forget about the often unjust courts of law.
Because the shooter was the son of a rich man.
She had a point but I was determined to see
Justice done to the man who nearly killed me.
She said I put a spell on him; this will never go to court.
I didn’t believe her but had no quarrel with her intent.
A day later the son of a rich man shooter,
A young man with good health died of a massive heart attack.
I had no quarrel with that because I think it was only a coincidence.
But ….

Bob Boyd

Today I stood at your grave
My tears watering the flowers
I brought for you.

I lost my faith in God the
Day your screwed up
Ex murdered you.

He’s in a grave too, his fate
Worse than yours and
More than deserved.

Now I wander city streets
Sometimes talking to you
In my head.

I’ve gone a little crazy
From thinking about how
You’re in that grave

Just a corpse rotting away
In that cold ground and
Gone from me forever.

I have wondered why this
Terrible nightmare had to happen
To you and me.

I wish I could be dead like
You and end this misery in
My ever aching heart

I’ve thought about killing myself;
It’s too hard to go on without you,
But I haven’t the guts to do it.

My friends say time heals all wounds
But this wound will stay open
For the rest of my miserable life.

I just can’t go on without you and
I don’t want to go on in a Godless
World you’re no longer in.

Bob Boyd

A fan spins above my head cooling me,
The earth is spinning too, maybe in sync.
But is the gargantuan earth planet
Spinning slower, which could account
For why I cannot feel the spinning?
And I know it’s better I cannot,
My balance isn’t as good as it once was.
And maybe the feel of a spinning earth
Would give me chronic vertigo
that would drive me insanely mad.
As I’m writing this, I’m wondering if
All the planets spin at the same speed,
And why can’t they just remain still.
Now my mind is spinning with thoughts,
Like an assembly line thoughts machine
Cranking out thoughts unceasingly.
So I’m going to just enjoy the cool breeze of
The fan, forget the cosmic stuff, and end this poem.

Bob Boyd

Heard about people having their
heads frozen after they died.
What was the point of that?
They believed in the far future
Scientists would reanimate their heads
And provide them with new, fresh bodies,
Probably manufactured in laboratories.
This poses the question can these braindead heads
Become jump started with their marbles intact?
Perhaps those who probably paid through the nose,
Pun intended, for these Frankensteinian, guillotine-like services
Believed not in a lifeforce animating their living brains and bodies,
If their severed, frozen heads could be unfrozen and woken up.
I believe they’d have a horror movie on the hands they wouldn’t have,
A spiritless brain, eyes that couldn’t open, a mouth that couldn’t talk,
A comatose head unfit for any kind of body.

Bob Boyd

Not being controlled
Not having anyone run interference
on what you are achieving
Not essentially held hostage by
the need for a paycheck
Not working at something you
don’t like but must to survive
Not having to take any nonsense
Not needing to do things you’d prefer not to
like needless time wasting meetings
Not being a slave to the clock
Not needing weekend breaks
Not having to put up with the possibility
of a difficult coworker
Not suffering any slights by
an ungrateful boss

Bob Boyd

He saw her photo in the news
35 and dead
In an auto accident
Something about her
Captured his heart
A nameless
Undefinable thing
He found the location of her grave
Visited her with flowers
He placed at her grave
Felt compelled to keep visiting her grave
It was an afterlife infatuation
That grew and grew and grew
Two months later she began appearing in his dreams
Every night a dream date
Now he knows for sure
He’ll be with her when he dies

Bob Boyd

Out of all the ice cream flavor choices
I’m trying to think of my favorite one
Is it Vanilla Chocolate Almond
Or Moose Tracks
Or Peanut Butter Cup
Or Cookies n Cream
No
None of them will do
Let me think
A little more
Tap into my
Presently bankrupt
Taste memory banks
Ah ha!
I got it here we go
Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough

Bob Boyd

Imagine when people were persecuted for reading Bibles.
Imagine before that when only the elite priests could read
Biblical truths and teaching, psalms, proverbs, and more.
Some of the non-Catholic Bible Readers burned at the stake.
Protestant martyrs, each one hunted down and murdered.
William Tyndaly translated the Bible into English
And was strangled and burned at the stake.
In 1401 Oxford professors burned at the stake too,
Their crime, translating the Bible into English.
I often wish the Lord above could have intervened
And saved the thousands upon thousands tortured and killed
By those that perverted Christianity and the Catholic Religion
Thank God those days are gone now.

Bob Boyd

Thousands dead on
The blood-laden
Battlefield strewn
With the corpses
Of young men who
Had futures but
Now dead never to
Return home
Never seen by
Loved ones again

They fought a senseless
War for a dictator safe
Far from the battlefield
He sent those dead
Men into battle like
Pawns on a chessboard
Their lives insignificant
To him

Bob Boyd