identity – Kevin Trent Boswell

Norms

I.

That’s never appropriate.
But people will talk.
Unacceptable.
Immoral.
Wrong.
Weird.
Bad.
No.

OK.
Yes, I do like it.
It does feel right.
Alright, but just once.
It’s none of their business.
Yeah, I guess this is different.
Only under these circumstances.
I don’t usually, but I’ll make an exception.

II.

They say it’s wrong, and other things, too
Though it hurts no one, and nobody lied
A small person dictates who can kiss who,
Who can think what, and what’s dignified

Unless you’re spreading disinformation
Better not to worry what others will think
In trying to fit in, find justification
The world passes by before you can blink

Wanting what it wants, the heart an artist
Mores and taboos prevent much strife
Rational, safe, and often the smartest
Unless they protect you from having a life

Jumping from thing to thing is unwise
Or hiding in a socially acceptable jail
Or hurting others with deceitful disguise
All surefire ways to flounder and fail

Promises you make to yourself and yours
—Never betray these oaths you contract
People may shame you, scold, shut doors
Regretting you let them compel you to act

There’s no easy way to sum it up neatly
Love your loved ones, to hell with society
Be faithful to your small circle completely
Be truthful, be kind, but fuck propriety

Auger

Fortune favors the…

Wait.

Who does fortune favor, again?

I forget

The bold or the cautious?
The wary? The chary?
The careless or the fearless?

A courageously optimistic, confident hero
And a goddamned foolhardy idiot
Look the same on the outside

Come to think of it,
Their internal dialogues
Sound pretty damn near identical

The shrewd planner, clever strategist,
The shrinking violet and sniveling coward
Are all eerily similar,
When you look only at their actions

But their uniforms are different

And they use very different processes
For making choices

Ironically, it no longer matters
Who is who or who does what

Because no one is able to discern
The difference anymore

It takes a modicum of intelligence
To identify intelligence

And unless people are able to
Identify intelligence,
They cannot accurately assign motive
To any person’s actions

And if people can’t
Effectively interpret
Positive intentions
From negative machinations

Mistakes will be made

Many mistakes

These days,
Anything good that happens

Is a minor miracle,
A happy accident

People bumping around in the dark
Trying to trade for things they need
And steer clear of things that terrify them

Ever tried to casually ask a stranger
If they could break a twenty
In a pitch-black alleyway?

That’s modern life,
Even when the lights are on

A Collage of Chimeras and Phantasms

by Kevin Trent Boswell available on Amazon

Now available on Amazon

phoenix incorporated

rising majestically from the ashes
is only useful if you have been
unwittingly destroyed
by circumstances
beyond your control

if you willingly walk into the fire,
time and time again,
because you crave
the feeling of being reborn,
then it makes it impossible
for anyone in your life
to know who they’re dealing with

harness the power of the phoenix

without becoming a full-time martyr
to constant change

Eighty Percent

Eighty percent of all suicides
Are committed by men
In case you weren’t listening,
I’ll say it again

Eighty percent of those who opted
Out of the plan of painful static
Were men, and I seriously doubt
That each one was a drunk or an addict

Labels help us dismiss the men
Who consciously choose not to live;
Toxic Masculinity, effeminate, weak;
Waved off as Liberal or Conservative

We’re expected to behave
As if we’re made of steel
But that’s fairy tale bullshit,
And it’s so far from real

Real men lose hope,
And they check out every day
They’re White, and they’re Black,
They’re straight, and they’re gay

They’re Latinos and Asians,
They’re Christians and Jews
College boys and farmers,
Overcome by the blues

And there was nobody there
Who knew what to say,
Who could (or would) help them
Make the pain go away

We choke on barrels or ropes,
Or we slit our wrists,
You call us narcissists, deadbeats,
And misogynists

If you say “All these men needed
“Was to have faith in God,”
Then your thinking is ignorant,
And dangerously flawed

Our bodies, ruined by painful,
Dangerous hard work,
But a broke or broken man
Is treated like a jerk

Women say, “Open up to me,
“Because I can help you grieve”
But when men share, women scare;
They get turned off and leave

A man carries on in silence for years,
Pain hidden by a noble stealth
But it rarely looks like the typical case
Of depression or poor mental health

More often than not, it’s a mystery
People scratch their heads and wonder,
“But he was so strong, I never knew.
I can’t believe he went under”

When a man can’t provide for his own,
No matter how he labors or tries,
Stumbling beneath an impossible weight,
He collapses from guilt, and he dies

The system dooms most men at birth,
Before we even get a chance to start
It favors the women who hurt us, and lie,
And rip our families apart

But the system wasn’t entirely built
By rich men, on the backs of the poor
There were also many greedy wives
Who yearned for more and more

Anyone who says women don’t lie
Or make up false allegations
Must have been hiding under a rock,
Not living in real situations

Of child support paternity tests,
30% are not the child’s real father
70% of divorces are initiated by women
So, why should a man even bother?

Many modern women think it’s cute,
Clever, and somehow funny,
To tear a man down by cheating on him,
Or using him for money

They say, “Men do it all the time!
“So, turnabout is fair play!”
But it’s not even close to being true
To say most men act that way

The word patriarchy is dropped
About a thousand times an hour
But most males have never known
Real money or true power

We’re told that “all men,” are abusers,
And how a bear could be escaped
But most men have never killed anyone,
Nor beaten a woman, or raped

Eighty percent of the suicide stats,
Men, in pain, and masking
But hey, everybody, we’re all fine,
So, thanks for never asking

Lean on me, brother, if you need to
You’re allowed to hurt and to cry
Soldiers should get furlough and rest,
But you don’t have permission to die

CDC suicide statistics by gender — From the CDC

a first world problem

being a poet and a songwriter
everyone assumes the things you write
are about them

a symptom of narcissistic culture,
exacerbated by social media

people love to be talked about
(favorably, anyway)

some people don’t even care if it’s favorable,
as long as someone is talking about them

write an angry piece about anyone,
and suddenly, ten friends are worried
it’s about them

twenty acquaintances
are boiling in their juices

say something vague about someone
who did you a favor and meant a lot to you,
people line up to take credit

write about a bad breakup,
half a dozen old girlfriends
are seeing red, blowing fuses,
about things that happened
five, ten, fifteen, twenty years ago

even though, in reality,
it’s not about them at all

write anything romantic,
and a dozen girls are swooning,
each one quite positive
it’s about them

or they’re enraged because
they believe it’s about someone else

but that one piece,
the really sexy, romantic one,
the one that made you flustered,
flush, lightheaded with excitement

that one was
definitely
about you,

yes, you,
the one
reading this
right now

I swear

I.

II.

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