A Collage of Chimeras and Phantasms, the 12th publication by Kevin Trent Boswell
A Collage of Chimeras and Phantasms is a
general collection of poems. The material veers wildly in several directions at once. You’ll find stream-of-consciousness pieces, romantic poems, works of heartbreak, dark scalpel slices that reside in the penumbra of horror, and avant-garde bits of absurdism. So, there’s no need to trouble yourself attempting to understand the methodology here—there is none.
216 pages
©️2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
On Saturday, I spent the entire day editing and submitting the manuscript for my new book.
I got it finished and turned in, then treated myself by eating too much pizza.
The author’s proof should be here in a day or two and I can proofread it. Then, it will go live and be available on Amazon.
a little understated skywriting
announcing the death
of a loved one
brightens up any picnic
a small, unobtrusive
mountain of mayonnaise
or tapioca pudding
in their living room
makes for a wonderful
birthday surprise
a subtle moat of blood
around your mansion
is much classier than
any ol’ stupid
infinity pool
a modest bouquet of wildfire
in your neighbor’s garden
is a much more imaginative
housewarming gift
than a dull plate of
homemade cookies
one will never present
as rude or ostentatious,
if only you remember
not to scream obscenities
in the movie theater…
until after the opening credits
it’s not beyond the
boundaries of good taste
to have an assortment
of gangrenous appendages
on the bureau in the foyer
instead of the more traditional
candies and breath mints
the neighbors will appreciate
a conservative display
of heads on spikes;
it’s a nice way to
outline the borders
of one’s property line
without being too
uncivilized about it
it’s hardly meretricious or inelegant
to wear a fifty-foot royal purple robe,
with the ears and eyes
of one’s enemies
stitched into the edges
it is, after all, a formal affair;
one wouldn’t wear it
to go out dancing,
obviously
no one of good breeding
will think you garish,
just because you
proclaimed yourself
lord emperor of all unicorns
most will assume
that it was merely
the wine talking
if you bring your honey badger
to that karaoke bar
where all your coworkers
meet for happy hour,
you’ll have the envy of
everyone at the office
it’s not too glitzy or braggadocio
to wear lingerie and furs to church,
not for the easter service, anyway
no one can accuse you of
behaving bodaciously
when you drag a couple of
five-gallon containers of gasoline
into the library, then proceed to
dump them out, and
light up a cigarette
after all, some of us like to
enjoy a good book
with a smoke
never too splashy
to pass out sex toys
and clean needles
at the old folks’ home
and the orphanage;
it just wouldn’t be christmas
without the spirit of giving
yes, it is “commanding”
to slit one’s throat
over the punch bowl
but everyone at the party
knows you’re single,
and you really do
have to peacock
just a smidge,
if you’re ever
going to
attract that
special someone
anyone who
scolds you
for pissing on a
wedding cake
just doesn’t know
how to party
who cares if you didn’t hit
every single note perfectly
in that show tune?
before you started boldly
livening up the place with song,
it was so tense and somber
in that operating room;
those surgeons should be
thanking you
it’s anything but too splashy
to throw mardi gras beads
at a funeral
everyone appreciates it
when you spice things up
with some colorful fun,
and who doesn’t like
free costume jewelry?
people are just
too uptight
these days
don’t take it personally;
they simply
do not understand
your special brand
of panache
©2024 Kevin Trent Boswell
Magus72 on Patreon – the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell
The music and poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
my harpsichord needs new spark plugs
there’s a little too much play
in this troglodyte toggle switch;
it’s randomly going on and off,
and that could mean that
no one at all is going to get hurt
I went halfway around the world,
just to change your mind,
turn it all around,
and go the rest of the way homeless
I stopped being witty and cute
about five and a half hours
before I ever got started
horrific crash,
a dust bunny in the corner
slammed into me, head on,
and I nearly died
when I say that I’ll
wake up again tomorrow
and carry on as usual,
no one ever takes these
threats of self-harm seriously
a good scouring scourge
is a healthy part of any
unbalanced individual’s therapy;
I recommend you go on Tuesdays,
between the hours of midnight and
fathomless apathy;
ask for Tomás
embracing the barn owl’s lofty promise
was always a noble goal;
if we’re talking about the goal that is
that precious few inches
of golden airspace
between your drunk friend’s fingers,
in which they present you
the priceless opportunity
to hit your paper football through it
back into the lab,
to draw up new schematics
for sucker punch melody grinders
and rambunctious shades of taupe
the widget blueprints were leaked;
the balloon factory obviously has a mole
every single bit of this
was somehow even better
than the other one that you
weren’t paying attention to, either
the pretzel grenades will
make short work of our adversaries;
short work that will malinger
through the frenzied millennia
even now, in this
early phase of the campaign,
our garden gnome mercenaries
are gathering reconnaissance
and torturing the water hose
for useful information
about that twig over by the fence
let’s synchronize our watches
we’ll reconvene at eleven hundred hours
to plan our assault on
that blueberry cheesecake
to imply that there’s some potentially
better use of our time and energy
is an offense punishable by
not being offered a slice
of cheesecake
that’ll teach those bastards
in the meantime,
I have hired a new duende,
and we can trust that
all the the arrangements
will be handled appropriately
our schemes of passive conquest,
followed by a bit of relaxing seppuku
are quite safe within its capable,
razored claws
tonight’s humiliation is the epitome
of postmodern junkyard chic;
I like mine sautéed with garlic,
onion, mandrake root, capsicum,
wolfsbane, and a pinch of dill
de rigueur new wave infatuation
folds up nicely, and tucks away neatly
into the furnace
these feral scarecrows
wander through the violet patch,
looking for windbreakers, opium,
and elusive moments of quiet,
inspired slaughter
©2024 Kevin Trent Boswell
Kevin Trent Boswell 