Kevin Trent Boswell

empire

the universe is
collapsing
as far as we’re
concerned

but we’re not
concerned,
not the least little bit

we’re too busy
chasing stars
all thumbs, hearts,
and digital dollars

one of the first things
to go
when an empire
collapses
is education
and art

wait,
but that’s
two things

I know,
now do you see
what I mean?

propaganda becomes
less obvious and harder
to detect

after that, the laws change,
censorship and
surveillance tighten

people become
more divided
than ever before

extreme right and left,
each with a few correct answers
and a whole bunch of lies

and each side is
convinced
that the other is
100% wrong

“our team couldn’t possibly
“be incorrect about anything”

the enemy
is no longer
at the gates,
but now lives
next door

no one can sleep
for fear of the news

but the grocery store
is still reasonably
well-stocked
for now

lately, at night,
I look up at the stars

if I wasn’t certain it wasonlymy imagination, Iwould swearthat thedamnthings were squeezingclosertogether

I.

That’s never appropriate.
But people will talk.
Unacceptable.
Immoral.
Wrong.
Weird.
Bad.
No.

OK.
Yes, I do like it.
It does feel right.
Alright, but just once.
It’s none of their business.
Yeah, I guess this is different.
Only under these circumstances.
I don’t usually, but I’ll make an exception.

II.

They say it’s wrong, and other things, too
Though it hurts no one, and nobody lied
A small person dictates who can kiss who,
Who can think what, and what’s dignified

Unless you’re spreading disinformation
Better not to worry what others will think
In trying to fit in, find justification
The world passes by before you can blink

Wanting what it wants, the heart an artist
Mores and taboos prevent much strife
Rational, safe, and often the smartest
Unless they protect you from having a life

Jumping from thing to thing is unwise
Or hiding in a socially acceptable jail
Or hurting others with deceitful disguise
All surefire ways to flounder and fail

Promises you make to yourself and yours
—Never betray these oaths you contract
People may shame you, scold, shut doors
Regretting you let them compel you to act

There’s no easy way to sum it up neatly
Love your loved ones, to hell with society
Be faithful to your small circle completely
Be truthful, be kind, but fuck propriety

Dimwit

Meanwhile,
In Lala Land,

My stupid ass
Decided to
Try again

Auger

Fortune favors the…

Wait.

Who does fortune favor, again?

I forget

The bold or the cautious?
The wary? The chary?
The careless or the fearless?

A courageously optimistic, confident hero
And a goddamned foolhardy idiot
Look the same on the outside

Come to think of it,
Their internal dialogues
Sound pretty damn near identical

The shrewd planner, clever strategist,
The shrinking violet and sniveling coward
Are all eerily similar,
When you look only at their actions

But their uniforms are different

And they use very different processes
For making choices

Ironically, it no longer matters
Who is who or who does what

Because no one is able to discern
The difference anymore

It takes a modicum of intelligence
To identify intelligence

And unless people are able to
Identify intelligence,
They cannot accurately assign motive
To any person’s actions

And if people can’t
Effectively interpret
Positive intentions
From negative machinations

Mistakes will be made

Many mistakes

These days,
Anything good that happens

Is a minor miracle,
A happy accident

People bumping around in the dark
Trying to trade for things they need
And steer clear of things that terrify them

Ever tried to casually ask a stranger
If they could break a twenty
In a pitch-black alleyway?

That’s modern life,
Even when the lights are on

chuck

the work of bukowski
has a way of
keeping me alive

the way he tells
his stories of suffering
through poverty and heartbreak,
doldrums and rages,
starved, psychic bleeding
words and whiskey
and cigarettes and anything else
anything to dull the pain
of being in this
idiotic hellscape

dealing with the
stupidity of
people

it brings a certain
grace, a poise,
almost a
kind of dignity
to my own
world

reading his poems
keeps me halfway sane,
keeps me
alive

and god,
how i hate him
for that

what the fuck,
chuck?

what the fuck
did i ever do
to you?

Nigh

If one taught the next, all would be well
We’d all do better, or so I’d assumed
The goose steps into boiling water
Swears it’s winning, surely not doomed

Document spiraling downward trajectory
Greed and hatred and empty pleasures
Hand off to the relay baton of truth
With wisdom, health, all other treasures

Naively, I swore we could live in harmony
But Life assertively called my bluff
The end is nigh for the world, and for love
But it cannot seem to come quickly enough

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I.

II.

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