Strange Leaf

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Strange Leaf” by Kevin Trent Boswell.

This world has been encoded for your protection. The original poem, “Strange Leaf” is published in the book title, remission, available on Amazon and at Conjure Work.

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© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell

Ere Wu Yin (A Fable)

There was once an army,
A most efficient killing machine
Forces twice as large as their own,
They readily crushed under boot

Conquering the mightiest strongholds
And everything that lay in between
Naturally, the other half of the realm,
They decided to rip apart and loot

Launching upon this new,
Shrewd campaign of extended war
They marched upon a city by the river,
A city known as Ere Wu Yin

A simple place, the home of farmers,
Craftsmen and miners of ore
As a military target, it was easy enough
And seemed nothing too difficult to win

General Tsu implored:
Let us, instead, forego this place.
We should pass it by, as it surely holds
Nothing for us that’s of too much worth.

But General Xi said emphatically:
No. Behold that wall, so high that no trace
Of anything is seen, on the other side;
Of most excellent construction and girth.

It is entirely probable that
These meager farms, outside
Are nothing more than guile,
Concealing armaments, with a crafty ruse.

Inside the fortress, there’s likely
A whole brigade, well-supplied.
They may be highly trained, well-armed.
Should they flank us, we would lose.

Furthermore, I would assert, brother
If there are no troops there, to surprise,
No arrows or cannons or spear attacks
To be, upon our heads, set loose,

Then we’ll occupy this circular fortress.
It will be a link in our chain of supplies,
Storage of food and munitions.
For this, for us, it will have great use.

General Tsu nodded and agreed
But with a somber caution, said: True…
But there could be a whole division, inside
For the circumference of that wall is vast.

If we send in multiple waves of attack,
One by one, as we usually do,
We could be slowly cut into ribbons
Reduced in number, we’d not long last.

They put their heads together in thought
And strategized about the matter
Then decided that the whole of their army
Would launch in unison; one, great assault

They’d breach the mighty wall
If necessary, by rope and ladder
And until the last of their troops was slain,
They would not slow the charge, nor halt

Two generals lined up all their brave men
Readied the weapons and on, they rode
With ferocity, straight at the city gate
Full speed and with a deafening roar

The simple farmers put down their tools
And signs of surrender, they showed
But a few of the men ran to the wall,
To lower the bridge and open the door

The generals assumed this to be proof
Indeed there was an army of Ere Wu Yin
Who were inside the wall and soon, they’ll
Rush to defend home against plundering

But no army appeared, no cannons fired
And no arrows flew out, from within
Saw nothing inside and the only sound,
Hooves of their own horses thundering

The generals, being experienced warriors
Knew it best to press on with the charge
For it could be that the soldiers hid
Waiting for them, right behind the wall

Conversely, if there were none present,
Victory would be swift and large
But they dare not assume it was the case
That the city would so easily fall

So, they cheered and they roared
And went ahead with the original plan
Generals demanded the men be vigilant,
Ready for the defenders that lay in wait

The whole of the army stormed right on in,
Every last, mounted cavalry man
But they met no resistance at Ere Wu Yin,
Not on either side of that towering gate

The whole of two divisions, now inside,
Those of General Xi and General Tsu
Coming to stillness, they puzzled fearful,
Suddenly realizing, they were all alone

There was absolutely nothing, whatsoever
There was no one inside, no fighting to do
Nothing but empty land and themselves
Encompassed by a thick wall of stone

Their minds raced back and forth,
Grasping at any and every straw
Had they won? Was it over? Would an
Army soon pour in, slay them and gloat?

The cavalry of Generals Tsu and Xi
Saw that here, there was none to outdraw
The front gate slammed shut and locked
Drawbridge pulled away from the moat

A peculiar sound, like a crack of lightning
The sound of a myriad of unlatching rows
Thousands of doors, opening all at once
Mounted in the very top of the wall

And out from these doors, sprang up fast Thousands of men, with rifles and bows
Evenly, shoulder to shoulder, all around
Looking quite dire; not very nice, at all

They set sights on the cavalrymen,
Who’d stumbled into a clever, death trap
So many, they could kill them all twice
And possibly, several times more

Keenly aware that they would soon die,
Generals straightened coat and cap
Sat up straight in his saddle, ready to die
This genius gambit, they could not ignore

Tsu spoke loudly, with a steady voice:
It’s an honor to die in battle. Much more so,
At the hand of the superior general,
One who is so skilled in the art of war.

It was custom to fight to the death
If a meager chance at victory did show
But one should lay down his arms, humbly
If defeat was certain, if hope was no more

And so, the generals ordered their men
To show honor, even in this awful defeat,
Surrender and to be put to death
Soon, they’d all be with their departed kin

Two, proud generals dismounted, kneeled
Laid treasured weapons down at their feet
Bowed their heads low in surrender
Dutifully but with a sadness, chagrin

Each of the soldiers then followed suit
Left their saddles, laying down arms
Silently kneeled, prepared themselves
To render the price that they must pay

Humbled in the dust, thought of the wives,
The children and all the world’s charms
All the things that they were about to lose
Because of the trap Ere Wu Yin did lay

After prayers to ancestors and gods,
The vexed soldiers were not at all harmed
Cautiously lifting heads, were astonished
To find their captors had all disappeared

The rear door of the stone fortress wall
Open, unguarded; the farmers, unarmed
The back drawbridge was lowered down
And the way out was thoroughly cleared

Bemused generals ordered the troops
To gather weapons and mount up again
And slowly, tepidly, they rode on out
The side opposite the way they’d come in

They rode slowly past the farmers, who
Tended their crops; only if or when
Soldiers came close by, would they stop
Offering a friendly wave and gracious grin

As the army rode out, General Xi fumed
He felt shamed, disgraced and humiliated
He suggested they return again, later
This time with more men and a plan

He proposed to come more prepared
Ere Wu Yin’s tricks now anticipated
Laying siege to the city, starve them out
And then to kill every last, living man

Tsu fed his horse a carrot and said:
I think it best to forget about returning.
Let us go home now, thank our ancestors
With every breath and each horse’s trot.

These people possess a strange secret.
A sublime wisdom, within them, is burning
Ere Wu Yin’s people terrify me, brother.
They know something… that we do not.

Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell

Author’s Note: this is an original story, not based on any historical persons, places or battles. The names and events are pure fictional.


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clobber

clobber with slobber

the foaming beast

tumble over rover

not bothered in the least

a bull and a pig

shopped for china one day

and a minefield dig

for archeological play

toppling the workloads,

tumbling down card towers

a brief symposium

of how energy is released

drenched in sweat

and love and tea

a most brutal pet

killing all boredom, sending it away

Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell

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untitled

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

remission

remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell on Patreon

KevinTrentBoswell.com

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon

Music Streaming, Apple Music

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud


The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

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What’s Left

thundering jaws

of ten thousand locusts

precise darts of prejudice,

blood dragons, each

entering with passwords,

polite, unassuming…

a pair of waiting and frail,

glass, lidless eyes

a clamor of messages,

all tattered, forgotten

mentioned in the never

and not even one,

ever put to sweet rest

urgencies, oddly angled

in ambivalent anxiety

inked into the crumpled,

sticky papers that fell

behind tired yesterday,

underneath

that old

shoe

somehow this,

and less so, the twisting

of syllabic, golden emblems

who tumbled readily down,

out of that stiff mouth, stuffed full

with reproachful disgrace;

scrambling as it does,

against the mocking barb

of tinfoil and iron

and just a touch

of freshly picked parsley

a thing branded promise,

the pledge of a feather…

that soft and superfluous

(perhaps a touch prideful)

grace of a king

in evening’s repose,

enjoying the dessert

of golden balcony light

in the smooth, gilded sunset

and that trancelike, wild aura

that it sprinkles on the children,

who play in the courtyard

of royal toys,

down below

the come-hither awareness

of a flittering scent

which lingers on a fickle hint,

of watering breezes

in a dallying, broad summer,

now too late for the dance

soon these specters of brief visitation

become rusty, bent turnstiles,

small, awkward entry points

into the twisted wilderness,

swallowed by the clanging,

stormy, brown cupfuls

of dingy, soiled clouds,

spilling over, full

of their heart’s hateful sickness

and penance, kneeling quietly

at the headstone of dawn

these, and the falling of a 

thousand yellow flakes

of crumbling memory 

waiting there, as prude passers 

of irascible judgements, harsh laws,

resting now more sternly

upon that shredded, old tongue;

the only one that remembers

how its meals were brought forward

on the silver and linen

and lovely, laced smile

determined, stayed flesh

all raked and peeling off,

at the tender, quick bone,

by white, stropped, dream blade

and its curled, new awakening

a thin, crisp snake

in its cool, keen infancy,

all smooth and glittery

and sly, to the touch

flying through the reels

of spring’s old, home movies

and bounding with gusto,

through autumn’s false reckonings

plunging into the downy,

limber, white gristle

that new, tinkling home

where all goes up with excitement

and is carried frenetically

into that ray of loud swiftness;

a focused, clear light

and tiny ringlets of dew,

a moistening of the jowls

of those murderous, howling,

mad beasts of oblivion

gathered early, for supper

at the table of long privilege

and tall, wealthy poise

where several chairs down

is still a praiseworthy elevator

shortened only by a skip

and a contract of devotion

and that signature handshake

which might allow one, if lucky,

to scramble into a hurried,

apathetic bliss

onto the next,

of those stained flights

of narrow steps,

hammered into place

with the gigantic, steel bones

of ruthless, porcelain dolls

archways of ascension

leading the feeble militia

into pathways of plenty

of sweat and spilt blood

and on, to the pined-for illusion

of the every bit

more

© 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell

Titles now available on Amazon

Liber ex Liberi – The Book of Children


Dark Matter

Dark Matter – Poems of Horror and Depravity


in the current


Chaos Comes Apart

Chaos Comes Apart


Next, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell

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Antiverse

Battle Against the Public

I think what this pandemic was lacking is a song, a tune that the people can hum. Therefore, to fill the current need, I have adapted an old favorite, with new (improved) lyrics.

I present to you, “Battle Against The Public”.

[sung to the tune of the famous song, Battle Hymn of the Republic]

Mine ears have heard the glory of the 

Omniscient, Orange Lord

He is trampling on the facts  

About the PPE we’ve stored

He hath loosed the fateful virus

By the terrible signs, ignored

His untruth is marching on!

(Chorus)

Story, story, tell it to ya!

It ain’t no worse than the flu… duh!

Praise him or he’ll remove ya!

Our Nonsense marching on!

I have seen His message echoed in the

Online, Right-Wing camps,

They have builded Him an altar 

Where truth‘s secured with iron clamps;

See through His dimwit message 

By the light of Logic’s lamps

His toupée is marching on!

(Chorus)

Friends, who you thought really knew ya!

Tell you it’s a hoax, come to screw ya!

Sit and wait at home, like Buddha!

His Orange is marching on!

I have read a fiery gospel, writ 

In CAPS of angry steel:

“Those who deal with My opponents,

Get respirators that might heal”

Let the Orange Nero, play the fiddle 

Let Americans all kneel

Trump is God and nothing’s wrong!

(Chorus)

Derogatory, press is unfair to ya!

Common sense has got the blues-a!

From Miami and NY to Chattanooga!

The virus marches on!

He has sounded forth the trumpet 

By Easter, we will have it beat;

Well, never mind… but admit, 

That the idea was pretty neat!

Doctors say… he’s a mo-ron!

(Chorus)

Gory, the doctors all conclude-a!

Fateful end, you’ll come to-a!

On breath machine, you’ll turn blue-a!

The buck He’s passing on!

In reports that came from China, 

South Korea, Italy 

The Donald was duly warned 

Of illness, born across the sea,

With mighty golf club in his hand, 

He said “Let’s wait and see”

As He lied to make men wealthy,

Let us try to make men see,

While the President blathers on!

(Chorus)

Glory, brave souls who blew the!

Whistle, sorry no supplies get to ya!

Your on your own, He never knew ya!

Our health care, shat upon!


Copyright 2020

Kevin Trent Boswell


The new book is out now, on Amazon:

Chaos Comes Apart


Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

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The Balance

Relentless and vile, that wicked thing…

Evil, ever striving against the light, 

Seeking its demise and then, from it, 

Escape, a twisting, eluding, evasion

Good then, must plant its wrathful sting

In return, even double, triple, to spite

And each, standing, must overcome it…

Rising to that dutiful, somber occasion

In this deep spiral of ethical confusion,

Cometh the horns of the beast, with its stinger 

Stickier, dicier, bits of the question… 

Who sits in righteous judgement of the wrong?

Which of us is upright, free from all illusion? 

Who may, in fairness, be the bringer

Of justice, penalties, implications, suggestion

Who’s sees truth and, if ever, how long?


Copyright 2020

Kevin Trent Boswell

(Magus)


The new book is out now, on Amazon: 

Chaos Comes Apart


Support the work at my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I cross-post the public works here. Patrons-only content is available, on my Patreon.


Patreon

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Conjure Work

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blogspot