Kevin Trent Boswell

easily

i tug at
a thin, colorful strand
of recollection

struggling to pull
the memory of your image
back into my eye

all the while,
the taste of your mouth
lingers easily
in my own

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

antiverse

blogspot

Conjure Work

oh to weep

to feel the tears, gliding
the joy that is a chasm
of painful knowledge,
the dark heart of
recognition

to gaze into the
eyes of suffering
and see its immense love for you
to peer into ecstasy,
become… fully…
cognizant…
of its ambivalence

to gasp and choke
on crumbs of empty space
to burn with hunger
at the brimful table of eternity;
the hall is so large,
the table so long, that
the head chair sits far,
outside the kingdom…
the queen is, by definition,
in permanent exile

her hound sounds
a trumpet of returning,
to the entrance,
where all exits
meet in a hollow nexus

its howling pierces stars
and summons perception
a doleful remembering
of cheer, unborn
a triumphant, vigorous celebration
on stages of victory,
a victory that needed
to do nothing but roll out of bed
and put on pants…
the rest was a seamless
unfolding of breath and
muscle memory

thick troubles,
shaped from
thin dust
and triumph,
collected in buckets;
it falls nightly…
no requisite asking,
pleading with fate,
to set aside its sickle
but for an hour

no prayers ascend
all prayers ascend

trouble no more for joys,
imagined leprosies that they are

sing no more praises of defeats
leaden, decrepit bullion

all these… fancies
dancing echoes

there are but few
frail glimpses
and each,
its own
meaningless
useless
miracle

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://trentboswell.blogspot.com/

https://conjurework.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

Depths

Wrangle up a monster

From the down below

Summon up a beast

That one can keep and know

A tiny, personal demon

One to call your own

In the furnace flames,

An angel image shewn

Burn the picture well

Into your flesh and mind

Hook it into every pore,

Be sure to be unkind

For the creatures that do dwell here,

In these dark and lonely parts

Sing songs of woe and cowardice

Emanating from empty hearts

Little, naughty things

That upon the pain will feast

Siphoned off a tank of dreams

Of which you know the least

I can retell an ancient tale,

Bound by honor, I will never

To have a shallow type of glory

A broken attempt at being clever

My own private monster

Would certainly not be pleased

It takes the choice and refuses to

Be taunted, mocked or teased

All the lovely portions and parts

Hungers it has now sated

Replaced in time by stupid rhyme

And nonsense, well-debated

This is the thing that demons do

And it’s what fascinates us so

All the places and all the things

They can make us do and go

The Nascent Magician magick course

Conjure Work

The Nascent Magician

Hoodoo, Ceremonial Magick, witchcraft

I don’t normally use this forum to talk about my esoteric practices.

But I have received the nudge to cast a wider net, because there are some searchers out there, looking for where they belong. So I’m putting up this one post, essentially it looks like an advertisement… and it is.

But look deeper and you’ll see that deep down inside, in between the words, there’s a message. It’s not for everyone. In fact, it’s not even for most. It’s only for a few. They will know who they are because they will feel it gnawing in their bones and churning in their guts.

So read this little ad and if it isn’t calling to you, just ignore it. I’ll post a poem right after this to make it up to you 😉

Through Monday night only… automatically get upgraded on The Nascent Magician magickal correspondence course.