the dark nighttime
has many visions,
lost illusions, all seeking
to guide you
into foul madness,
struggling beneath
too-short
and coarse covers
trust your gut,
sweet child
for nothing but light
is inside you
the same
may not always
be said
of the others
look both ways
before you cross over
the unknown
threshold
there is the light
which is in you
true
and bold
and then there’s
all of the everything
else
that’s out there
some lights
which have gone out
but haven’t yet
been told
devils may take the
appearance of angels,
so always
take care
these would
warm themselves
by the fires of
your favors
but themselves,
cannot
return
the good deed
gratitude absent,
and all the
usual,
good flavors
are not nearly so much
in them,
not so much as
they need
caring, something
they’re sometimes
quite good
at feigning
but they would
not do so much
at all,
were they able
to give you
assistance
they assist
by restraining
so that you make
in their making
up the food
on the table
in those dark places,
your rules don’t
make up
for the senses
your eyes
often fail
and your hearing
goes dumb
you‘re a good child,
a smart one
keeps up
strong defenses
against the weaving
of webs that would
have you
succumb
listen not
to easy tales
of leisure
or love
be generous
to the grateful,
giving too much,
one discovers
there’s humanity
in your heart
and it fits you,
like a glove
but the same
may not always
be said
of the others
listen closely
when the light
whispers its
soft warning
go not lightly
where it would
sternly
guide you away
lean gentle
upon your genteel
manners
of good morning
shield carefully,
your beacon
shining,
that it may
ward off those
hungry things,
slinking
in the twilight
committing
many crimes
to justify
sadness
your large heart
feeds them
but the briefest
time’s highlight
your manners
won’t bring them
single moment’s
gladness
baleful hunger
returns ever,
without
pause
more hot and fierce,
and much
stronger
than before
opening you
slowly,
hiding
their cause
growing more
and more bold,
once you open
the door
in knowing
what warm,
nice feelings
spill out of you
upon your noble,
good faith,
they come
again to dine
a stitch of
incredulous
will keep away
death’s hue
after all
is said and done,
it almost always
saves nine
trim the wick
of your candle,
its bright light,
inspire
keep your
powder all dry
and your lamp
tinder lit
the pushers
of darkness,
small steps lead
to the dire
be careful
and wise
and don’t
fall for it
strange misgivings
will have you
to shirk,
with sudden attitude
even the
friendliest
of those come
hither smiles
the first thing
to go,
once they get in,
is your mood
lasting longer
than it should,
means you’re taken
by the wiles
hold your memory
tight
and never let them
touch
trust, when the way down
is nagging
and the good feeling
lacks
harken which hands
reach for you,
too awful
much
a bother in your belly,
stops you
dead in your
tracks
your energy
will fail,
long before
their thirst
that visceral fear,
in your warm,
tenderhearted
guts
if you take
the hooked bait,
you’ll soon see
their worst
suspicious,
uncertain
and thinking that
you’re nuts
those uneasy
twinges
that drive you back,
second guessing
from the most
obvious act
of a seeming
benevolence
they’re there
to warn you
of something
bad, pressing
despite daddy’s
words good can
sometimes draw
a malevolence
some feed on grace,
manners
and mother’s charm school
propriety
it’s less commentary
on your love
on more so,
on their bleakness
in spite
of polite
good intentions,
all sobriety
resides in your
maintenance
against your own
weakness
glowing with life,
you are
and so, must remain
in your poises
stay out of the
shadows
and out
of the foolish
they, and it, wane
into dark dins
of the most
horrible noises
which lead
away from light
and down into
the ghoulish
when your social
sensibilities
are suddenly
eviscerated
and it happens
without logical
reasons,
not one
something upon surface
seems
rather
uncomplicated
do not question it,
dear child,
instead…
turn and run
abdominal doubt
scorning the
solid
handshaking
is hidden
inside of
your knotted-up,
inward self
signal of a threat,
through
inexplicable
quaking
though they look
the good deal,
put them back
on the shelf
never wander
too closely
to the edges
of the dark
shadows have
been known,
on occasion,
to jump through
to leap out and swallow
flickering,
pretty things
that spark
those that reside
inside of
pretty things
such as you
keep close
to the guard dogs
who growl
behind fierce eyes
when strange
temptations
come close,
offering favors
do not lean in,
or listen
too well
to their lies
the keepers
of darkness
and light
are close neighbors
and sometimes
those shaded
boundaries
do fall wide open
for some
always go there,
eager to steal
keys
this may shock
or confuse,
sensibilities,
all broken
disappearance
in the night happens,
with the greatest
of ease
not all are so nice
as you, child and know
that some are the weight
of a great, heavy stone
not everyone
and everything
would have you
to live
some would
consume all,
even marrow
of your bone
every precious,
last drop of
all the blood
you could give
some of the
monsters feed
quietly
on your brain
not keeping you
in such good
but a good many
shapes
most monsters fall out
from the ordinary
and there,
they remain
until you break
their spells
and your spirit
escapes
creepers
all slithering
down low,
out of light
shielding from
the bright, good
and sensible
day
well-hidden
under coverings,
many put up
no fight
but will linger
and drain you
until you rise up
and slay
some appear tricky,
as a lamp
or a torch
often does
but are only
cloaks of
drowning
in the cool shade
storms,
wearing rainbows
where color,
never was
any light
splintering through,
artificially
made
devils with dowries
invite you to
lie on razor sharp
pillows
with sweet, sugar
poisons,
sharp in the throat,
catch
because some wicks
take to light
easily,
like dried-up, old willows
candle burns through
the night,
on first strike of
one match
some things
look a lot like a candle,
a flame or
a spark
but they
will never burn,
no matter how hard
you try
use up all
your matches
and still,
in the dark
some will
always break things
and take things
and lie
about other things
like innocence
and light
and hope
lovely or kind
at first glance,
they may
look
but with a lot
of hard scrubbing
and a fair
amount of soap
you’ll discover
the ruse
and note all
they took
I’m sorry to
have to say, child
not all is
as it seems
in fact, most
things aren’t,
at deep heart
of the matter
in this world,
there are things
far worse
than bad dreams
and the daylight
does not cause
them all
just to scatter
some things
are stubborn
in slow dying,
sowing trouble
and you’ll never
get back
those things
which were taken
guard against the losses
and in time,
pop your own
bubble
childhood
dies a bit easier
with your confidence,
unshaken
but die,
it must do,
since it’s nothing
but a blindness
the warm blanket
of sheltering,
by fathers
and mothers
the love you
possess, child
rewards kindness
with kindness
the same
may not be said,
always
of the others
Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell
Latest Book Release
Kevin Trent Boswell on Patreon
Instagram – KevinTrent Boswell
Instagram – Conjure Work
Kevin Trent Boswell 