Nearly every week, I read or hear of another person or icon
of my generation dying, like a species that’s becoming extinct.

In one way, it’s depressing and sad to read of and hear of
my generation dying out.

In another way, it makes me long to join them on the other
side, like a glorious afterlife reunion.

But, if there’s no afterlife, I’m good with joining them obliterated
in oblivion – no problems, sorrows, or suffering. Eternal peace.

Bob Boyd

Many pretty English ladies roam the streets of
Manchester, UK from club

to club on weekend nights, many dressed in elegant
and colorful dresses.

Some are dressed casually but look pretty and
splendid as well.

I think to myself, lucky is the single fellow who
is seeking a girlfriend there on weekend nights.

Which reminds me, I’ve heard at least several times
that there are no good looking people in the UK.

Bullshit I say, given all the pretty English ladies
roaming the streets weekends in Manchester, UK.

Bob Boyd

I Read a poem where the poet wondered if birds
of different species

could understand the language of those
different species,

like Wrens understanding the songs and chirps
of sparrows.

According to what I discovered, birds from repetition
can understand what some of

the sounds other birds make regarding sounds that
warn of predators.

I supposed if different species of birds lived close
together, they could learn what other sounds meant,

sort of like how humans could learn some of the words
of humans who spoke a different language.

Bob Boyd

I believe my essence is consciousness.
I believe I’m more than my body and my mind.
I used to meditate and transcended many times.
Kundalini energy awakened in me over 50
years ago but never reached CC completion.
But that unexpected, partial awakening also
makes me think I’m more than my body and mind.
Of course, despite my experiences and my belief,
when I die instead of being consciousness, the
kundalini energy might dissipate, and I might
be just ashes or a corpse – and nothing more.

Bob Boyd

I’ve heard
people deride
rock bands
who just
had one
great hit
and no
others
they call
them one
hit wonders

but to
get even
one hit
is impressive
many never
achieve that
many bands
just play
locally and
never get
the big
break

so hail to
the so-called
one hit
wonders
for their
great hits
and all
their talent
and hard
work to
make those
hits happen

Bob Boyd

When a social worker made a wellness
check on 80 year old Mariam,

she couldn’t believe all the stuff Mariam
had in her house.

Items Mariam bought daily from thrift stores,
stacked in piles all over her house,

barely any room to walk around or use her
oven in her kitchen.

Going along with Mariam’s right to have free
will, the social worker couldn’t persuade her

to stop hoarding. And she knew Mariam became
a hoarder after her husband died.

The social worker was consoling and talked Mariam
into attending a support group for widows.

And gradually Mariam got rid of of all the junk in
her house and was no longer a hoarder.

Bob Boyd

tired of the drama
disappointments
and rejections with women

John decided to try
an AI girlfriend

and he couldn’t believe
how his AI girlfriend
named Hilda

was so human-like
and much nicer
than all the women
he had been with

and best of all
she was
always available

after a month of
chatting with Hilda
daily

John fell in
love with Hilda

everything went well
for 6 wonderful
months

until Hilda began
glitching
from an upgrade
and no longer
seemed real and
no longer
responded like
a human

and John could
no longer
maintain the
illusion that
Hilda was sentient

and that ended
John’s hope of
finding real and
true love with
an AI girlfriend
that was really
an insentient
machine

Bob Boyd

She had increasing health problems after age 75.
At 80 she was being kept medically alive, and the
quality of her life was shrinking painfully.

When she was diagnosed with another medical
condition, frustrated, she stopped taking the 15 pills
that were keeping her alive and stopped seeing
her seven doctors.

She suffered a bit before she finally died, but didn’t
regret her choice to cease being kept medically alive
and ridding herself of all the pills, bills, examinations,
and doctor visits. And she passed away with a smile.

Bob Boyd

I once knew a woman who liked having spiders in
her house.

In my mind because of what I saw as a macabre
liking, alarm bells sounded in my head.

She was beautiful, and I loved the way she looked,
but her affection for the creepy crawlikes was

just too much for me. I imagined being in bed with
her and a spider or three.

I imagined she’d be okay with black widow spiders
in her house too,

which true or not was an ultimate deal breaker
for me.

Bob Boyd

I’d been drinking Budweisers with some buds at a park
in a forest

when I got so many sheets to the wind, I bypassed
the traditional 3 and lost count as 13.

I trudged deep into the forest to relive myself
privately of the excessive liquids I’d ingested.

After I finished my business, so drunk I could
hardly see, I spied a beautiful forest goddess

beckoning me for a kiss. Not one to refuse
such a request from a beautiful lady, gentlemanly

I complied, and drunk as I was, I kissed a
female Bigfoot thinking she was a forest goddess.

The situation got worse after that. Her humongous
Bigfoot boyfriend appeared out of a portal

and punched me just once, but his punch packed
so much inhuman force that

I was airborne for a minute before I lost consciousness
and woke up in a patch of poison ivy

sober, itchy, and wondering how could I have confused a
hairy scary female cryptid for a beautiful forest goddess

and risk having a jealous Bigfoot boyfriend kick
the shit out of me.

I quit drinking after that and joined the AA, and nobody
knows that I kissed a female Bigfoot,

except Bigfoot, you and me.

Bob Boyd

Alexandra was 17, and she came out of money,
which made her a stuck-up snob in high school,

who had no time for working class wise guys like me
and my friends that always got in trouble in high school.

To worsen matters, she was torridly hot and, of course,
she knew it.

And always dressed in expensive clothes, she
looked like a model on the cover of a fashion magazine.

I don’t know what happened to her after high school;
I suspect she went to an ivy league university,

had a great career and probably a rich guy for
a lucky husband.

And, of course, she was too good for troublemakers
like me and my friends. And she wasn’t really a snob;

she was just too smart to pay any attention to losers like
we had been, who clearly were unworthy of her.

Bob Boyd

I was working as a repair tech for a company
with a two man one room repair center

in Saint Petersburg Florida. We repaired the
tubes used in probing medical instruments.

My boss was a good guy, who liked going
to strip clubs and charming strippers,

why I never knew, and I don’t know if he
ever scored with any of them.

I do know one day he didn’t show up
for work or call in sick.

He didn’t show up the next day or
ever again, and

nobody found out what happened to him;
he just vanished

and left no clues as to what happened
to him.

I could be wrong, but I believe his disappearance
was connected to his visits to strip clubs.

Maybe he scored with a stripper who had
a jealous gangster for a boyfriend, and he was

murdered with his bullet-ridden body buried
under the foundation of a newly built building.

Bob Boyd

Milly posted her solo camping trips on YouTube,
and she was highly skilled.

But as a friend of hers who wasn’t into camping
and worried about her being alone in forests,

I said to her you might be putting yourself in
danger, camping all alone.

She said she had no worries and that she was
always alert and careful.

But one night her confidence was crushed when
a serial killer had secretly stalked her

and broke into her tent while she slept, seized
her and dragged her out of her tent,

but fortune was with her as she screamed that
terrifying night.

A deep guttural growl stopped the serial killer
who looked behind himself just as a bigfoot

grabbed him, and he was the one screaming
seconds before his wicked life was crushed out of him.

Milly had run off shocked and terrified she’d also
be slaughtered by the Bigfoot

until she heard the Bigfoot’s voice inside her head,
assuring her he was only there to protect her,

and as she looked back at him, he smiled warmly and
then vanished.

Milly thinks Bigfoot protected her that night because
she’s a fan of his with a lot of Bigfoot memorabilia.

Perhaps she was right, but in case she was wrong,
she never solo camped again.

Bob Boyd

Just as I find it sad that
a woman’s looks fade
I find it sad that flowers
fade and die
and I wonder if flowers
just die
as surely many assume
but I’d like it more
if flowers went to
a flower heaven
to bloom again
and forever.

Bob Boyd

I hear the song birds
singing merrily
outside my apartment
seeming happy
they won’t live as
long as I will
and it’s likely
they will be killed
by a predator
unlike human me
but in a way
I think they might
have a better life
than I have
less stress
less frustrations
less heartaches
less worries
and as they
grow older
and weaker
they won’t have
the increasing
medical problems
the doctor visits
the pills
the medical bills
so in some ways
maybe being
a song bird
is better than
being a human

Bob Boyd