free verse – Kevin Trent Boswell

sleepless

he tossed back his shoulders ⠀
and shook angry fists
at the insistence of the night ⠀
which washed over him ⠀
in a baptismal shower⠀

awakening cynicism⠀
dripping tortured postulations of fate ⠀
over all he had known ⠀
and could afford to call indifference ⠀
or assimilation of tranquility⠀

until the guardians of morning ⠀
withdrew rapiers of delirium ⠀
true to the spirit of revelation ⠀
and thrust the seed of salvation ⠀
into the sufferer’s soul⠀

delivering him ⠀
unto the doorstep ⠀
of the new day ⠀
with eyes afire, ⠀
longing to chase ⠀
the sun

“sleepless” from the book remission by Kevin Trent Boswell, available on Amazon.

Author’s Note 1:

I wrote this piece in my twenties. I’ve struggled with insomnia since I was about eighteen. In my thirties, it became easier because I can manage it with medication.⠀

I tried all that sleep-hygiene nonsense. I did it correctly, did all of it, and did it for extended periods to let my circadian rhythms adjust. None of it helped. Obviously, things like setting a timer for bed and then turning things off help, but that doesn’t mean you will fall asleep.⠀

If anyone reading this struggles with serious insomnia, don’t allow anyone to gaslight you into thinking you’re doing something wrong. Many people will only get significant relief through medication, especially if you have PTSD.⠀

The human brain is a mysterious beast that we don’t fully understand, and the unconscious mind processes every single piece of sensory input before the information reaches the higher reasoning levels of the prefrontal cortex.

Author’s Note 2:

Lately, I’ve been using ChatGPT for images, only because it’s faster than searching through a lot of stock photos.

However, I DO NOT use AI in my writing. ⠀

There are only two exceptions. One is a piece in my book Not Long for This World, in which I asked AI to explain the dangers of AI. That’s a no-brainer.

The other is that I frequently run a piece through Grammarly to check for spelling errors, and because I’m addicted to commas, semicolons, and em dashes. ⠀
⠀
I’m a practicing punctuation addict, choosing to focus more on a harm reduction approach rather than strict abstinence. Life is short, party hard.

Lights Out

When the streets go dark
And the lines go down

Every choice comes
Racing back

Flooding the mind
With harsh judgments of
Prior judgments

Kicking oneself for
Not making better

More solid

Less shortsighted
Decisions

The trumpet in the skull plays
Brass tack blues

But there’s no time for tears

For the Angel still stoops low,
Her finger touches the surface of the sea

The waters rise and boil

And scarlet and ash cover the sky

Speech is all garbled,
Unintelligible noise

And the tower falls

Prayers simplify,
Becoming bread,
Water, candles

A second set of
Eyes and hands,
More bullets

The stranger outside
Does not look
Friendly

And yet, he is
Less dangerous
Than the one
Who does

a tragic soap opera

stage is dark

sad violin music
minor key

a single spotlight falls on a

circus clown
with baggy clothes
and floppy shoes

throws his hands up in the air
and wails, forlorn

all those poor,
lonely scribbled
numbers

all crumpled up
on the page

crying themselves
to sleep at night

he looks to the sky,
shouting in an over-the-top,
melodramatic caterwaul

why, oh why,
did I even bother
to buy that box
of pens?!

drops to his knees
in front of a telephone
that sits atop a small table
and sobs quietly
into his hands

curtain closes

the end.

the next day,
a critic writes,

this was the most
pathetic piece of
maudlin garbage
that I’ve seen since
grade school.

the only thing
that might have
improved this pulp…
slightly…

is if the clown
committed seppuku
and then the theater
burned down.

round up the author
of this mawkish nightmare
and have him shot.

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

Like No Other Everyone

A nonpareil drop in the bucket

Deadpan dipping sauce
Covers the taste of
Cardboard cleverness

It was already bad enough before,
My shuffling and shimmying,
Like a monkey angel on a chain

I was already forced to share
My dance floor
Atop the pinhead of the city
With myriad other
Demonic apes

Eight billion cells
Competing for symbiotic sustenance

The necessity
Of playing the fool for attention
Cutting in line for approval
Tripping others in desperation
Asking favors
And bribing doormen

And all of it…

Getting me
Scooby Doo nowhere

But now,
There must be the
Additional humbling
Disclaimer:

“No AI was used in this.”

But most likely,
No one will ever see it

And even if they did,

They wouldn’t understand
Half of the words

Or one percent
Of the symbolism

Or any of the effort

The machine
Finishes its meal
And lights a cigar

A Collage of Chimeras and Phantasms

by Kevin Trent Boswell available on Amazon

Now available on Amazon

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