Most

Most stories don’t have happy endings
The brutal truth is that most do not
For each hero who makes it home,
In unknown ditches, a hundred more rot

For every song about some brave champion,
There are endless graves without any bones
For there was no body which they could bury
Only lost names engraved on stones

We must admit if we’re honest about it,
Eventually, Death claims them all
Those who we celebrate after a battle
And those who on the battlefield fall

Those who seem to be safe back at home
Are also short candles in a night so late
None escape the long-armed grasp,
Of those pitiless stranglers, time and fate


©2022 Kevin Trent Boswell


New Music Album on June 8th

Something in the Air – an album of 10 original songs from Trent Boswell, available on June 8th, 2022 at most major music streaming services like Amazon Music, Spotify, iTunes, etc.

Published Works

The poetry and music of Kevin Trent Boswell
The poetry and music of Kevin Trent Boswell

Support This Work on Patreon 

Magus72 on Patreon - the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell ​
Magus72 on Patreon – the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell

All Around

All Around

All Around” – music by Trent Boswell

I can’t find it I don’t see it
Though I’ve looked nowhere over
I was certain I’d have found it
By now

Thought I had it once
In my hand like a clover
But it flew away
Somehow

I’ve rubbed out my eyes
Squinting through the dark
But my eyes are too full
Of dreams

Want nothing so much
Thoughts of self not a spark
And I still do not know
What it means

Collecting each one
Not mine in a moment
All tomorrow’s
Forgotten yesterday

Yourself saw you with them
You know of the torment
A sideways hello
Didn’t say

Slippery little thing
So many to climb
Fall so fast and without
A sound

Never had your gift
Of yours all this time
Wrapped tight and spilling
On the ground

All time gone by
Flirting with the dawn
Seeking for a higher
High score

Those things which remain
To this day are long gone
These things are all things
No more

Don’t know why I bother
I bother not to know
It’s never too much
Not to say

A slight tinge of joy
In each thing to show
Everything never came
This way

The secret only shared
Never told never kept
All the smiles that cannot
Be got

Always not moving
Ever happy it wept
In the open it hides
Where it’s not

Close the window my friend
Despite how it looks
It is going to be
A fine day

For it has the good sense
In verbose old books
All words refraining
To say

A slight tiny sting
Four missing leaves of clover
Ending all applause
Curtain bow

Can’t find it don’t see it
Having looked all over
Was certain I’d have lost it
By now


©2022 Kevin Trent Boswell


Lyrics available in print:

Time for Nothing - Poetry, Prose, and Song Lyrics, by Kevin Trent Boswell
Time for Nothing – Poetry, Prose, and Song Lyrics, by Kevin Trent Boswell

Support This Work on Patreon

Magus72 on Patreon - the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell ​
Magus72 on Patreon – the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell

Inside Job

Author’s Note: This one is a little more fun if you read it in Tony Soprano’s voice.

I always defended my inner child
Even when change, he’d slow or shunt
I spoke to him softly, sweet and kind
Never too harsh, rude, or blunt

But his juvenile ways sabotage me
Constantly force me to fall back and punt
It’s time for him to grow the hell up
My progress, the crybaby tries to stunt

If I’m ever gonna get ahead in this world
Any luck in life, the brutal hunt
I can’t afford to have this kid in my way
His juvenile tantrums, I gotta confront

All this baby does is worry, complain
He fights reality, finds truth an affront
His childish attitudes are holding me back
I say, fuck that bratty, squawkin’ cunt

I know a guy; he paints houses, wetwork
A reliable button man to bear the brunt
He knows how to handle these things
A backdoor man; alibi and solid front

I’m sick of his shit, bellyachin’, moanin’
I gotta do it; I’m putting out a hit on the runt
I’ll murder this punk and bury his body
In a shallow grave by the waterfront


©2022 Kevin Trent Boswell

Magus72 - the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell
Magus72 on Patreon –
the music, poetry, and madness
of Kevin Trent Boswell

my friends

good morning, all you beautiful people
you lovely, angelic folks i call friend
i want you to know that i’m thinking of you
though fiery days, together, do blend

whirling quick, down the drain of time
not seeing your faces, hearing your voices
distance and schedules demand this of us
circumstance offering no other choices

i want to take this brief opportunity
to say that you still mean a great deal to me
i’d rather that we were conversing, laughing
than where and how we happen to be

more often now, do i have these thoughts
since all appears to be coming apart
the wretched state of things all around us…
i think of you, how i miss your heart

each moment is truly a blessing, unique
neither taken for granted nor guaranteed
i’d pray for you to have happiness, joy
if i thought it helpful to request or plead

but alas, our time on the big, blue marble
ephemeral, flickering, fleeting, concise
disappears quickly, precious little warning
like a glass of sunsets, smiles and ice

tumbler, carelessly knocked from our hands
by a stupid stranger, passing by in a roar
an ignorant ogre with a love of wealth
a disdain of beauty and a love for war

beastly creatures, not one, but many
loving too much, to climb and to fall
punching holes in our collective boat
though surely it sinks and dooms us all

the cup of this world, spills over with promise
wonders of nature, so much opportunity
carelessly ruined by the madness of kings
who with stolen gold, kill with impunity

we, being lovers of kindness and good
seeing their greed, the destruction it brings
it hurts our hearts, we sigh and conclude
“i guess that we just can’t have nice things”

as we watch them ripping it all into pieces
everything beautiful, too soon to die
i want you to know how much i love you
i’d hate if the chance were to slip idly by

i want to tell you that you’re all in my heart
and in my thoughts, your memories glow
i’d not forgive myself if i wasted
the opportunity to let each of you know

just over the horizon, a banshee wails
as we near the welkin, do smile, once more
i’ll be thinking of you, as we take that step
through the long, strange and endless door


©2022 Kevin Trent Boswell

Magus72 on Patreon, the music, poetry and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell
Magus72 on Patreon, the music, poetry and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell

Photo by Mo


The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
Eight poetry titles, available on Amazon

Too

You’re too young

You’re too old

You’re too timid

You’re too bold

You’re too forgiving

You’re always holding grudges

You’re too straightforward

You’re all winks and nudges

You’re too kinky

You’re such a prude

You’re too nice

You’re terribly rude

You’re too poor

You’re way too rich

You’re too loyal

You’re a backstabbing bitch

You’re too punk

You’re too straight

You’re too early

You’re far too late

You’re too logical

You’re too black and white

You’re too much of a pacifist

You always pick a fight

You’re not broad enough

You’re too eclectic

You’re speed is too slow

You’re pace is too hectic

You’re the same, old, usual

You’re too avant-garde

You’re too soft

You’re just too hard

You’re too boring

You’re too, too much

You’re always gone

You’re here way too much

You’re too stupid

You’re a little too smart

You’re too far ahead

You’re too close to the start

You’re too involved

You’re too apathetic

You’re too fat

You’re too athletic

You rhyme too much

You’re too free-verse

You’re too offensive

You’re afraid to curse

You’re too angry

You’re too sad

You’re too worried

Why are you so glad?

You’re too sensitive

You’re too thick-skin

You’re too quick to finish

You’re too slow to begin

You’re too far gone

You’re too stable

You bite off too much

You don’t give all you’re able

You’re too frigid

You’re too horny

You’re too grabby and needy

You’re too distant and thorny

You’re too quiet

You’re too proud

You’re too humble

You’re too loud

You’re too unpredictable

You’re too strange

You’re too normal

You’re too subject to change

You’re too ambitious

You’re too restrained

You’re too big-boned

You’re too big-brained

You’re too reserved

You’re too outgoing

You second-guess too much

You think you’re all-knowing

You’re too brazen

You’re too fearful

You’re too cold and harsh

You’re too sentimental, tearful

You’re too specific

You’re too cryptic

You’re too Pollyanna

You’re too apocalyptic

You’re too masculine

You’re too effeminate

You’re too tight-assed

You’re too indiscriminate

You’re too hands-off

You’re too political

You don’t tend to details

You’re too analytical

You’re just way too picky

You always say “whatever”

You’re not very bright

You’re think you’re so clever

You’re too pasty

You’re too tan

You’re too girlie

You’re too manly-man

You’re too dense

You notice too much

You never ask for help

You always need a crutch

You’re too red

You’re too blue

You’re too much of everything

You’re way too much you


©️2022 Kevin Trent Boswell

Magus72 on Patreon - music, poetry and madness

Pariah

I’ve always been
Outside the norm

I never quite fit in
Never fit neatly enough
Into any of the boxes

Despite being a straight, white male
Somehow, I always still manage
To be the different one
In every crowd

I believe in science
But I’m also an occultist

I’m entirely too rational and skeptical
For a great many in the occult community

I hold disdain for those who think that
White light is the solution for every problem,
That all things are possible through magick
And that crystals, sage and essential oils
Will cure absolutely anything and everything

I’m what is known as a gray magician,
Equally comfortable with
Angels and demons
Blessings and curses

But I’ve always been
A little too “light and goodness” for some
And a little too “dark and scary” for others

My acceptance of atheists,
As well as agnostics and Satanists
Gets me odd looks from the
Holier-than-thou clubs

And my complete lack of
Any bitter hatred of Christianity
Makes the Left Hand Path people
Somewhat suspicious of me

But the fact that I believe
Spells can cause change
And that it’s possible to
Communicate with unseen entities

This gets me automatically pigeonholed
By anyone in the scientific community
As either a lunatic or a charlatan
Or both

I’m too Ceremonial for the Witchcraft crowd,
Too witchy for the Hoodoo crowd,
Too Hoodoo for the Ceremonial crowd
And so on and so forth, ad-infinitum, ad-nauseam

I have kinks that get me labeled
As a pervert, by many

But I usually found that
I was something of a disappointment
To a lot of the kinky people I met
Because I wasn’t a submissive male
Or because I wasn’t bisexual
Or because I wasn’t whatever else
They were hoping that I would have been

Of course, they’re always happy that I am
Open and accepting and loving
Of all orientations, gender-identification, etc
But I’m still a straight, white male
Which is, to many of them,
Still sort of boring, sort of a letdown
And I get that, I really do
It’s OK, I’m not offended by it

I play chess and I listen to classical music
I both listen to and play jazz
So, I’m a bit too “uppity”
For many rock-and-rollers

But I’m only a decent chess player
And a mediocre jazz guitarist
So, I don’t get to sit with the really cool kids
At any of those tables

I also listen to punk, speed metal,
Gangster rap, blues, rock, pop
As well as dozens of other genres
And somehow, it’s still a surprise
When someone else likes the same bands as me
I’ve never really figured that part out,
Seems like there’d be more commonality
But there you have it

I write poetry and hell…
Everyone hates that

But even among the poets,
I don’t stick with any one, single genre
So, none of them really gets me, either

When I branch out into things like horror poetry,
That freaks a lot of people way the hell out

“What the fuck is wrong with that guy?!”

Sure, they love Stephen King
They don’t bat an eye at The Walking Dead
Or movies like Hellraiser or Saw
But I write one little, horror poem
About cannibalism and suddenly
I’m weird

OK, so it was more than just one

I play guitar, sing and write songs
But my style is all over the map
So it’s just too this or that for
Almost everyone

I was even told as much, by a friend,
A guy who had helped a pop artist,
A one-hit-wonder, to get a gold record
Yeah, I was close friends with a record producer

It didn’t help me one bit

He said “You’re a very good singer
And you’re a good guitarist but…

“People want catchy songs”

“And they want to know
Exactly what they’re going to hear
When they come to a show.
You are all over the place.
I had no idea what you’d play next.
Pick one style and stick with it.”

“You can be a genius, later.”

That wasn’t good enough for me
I always wanted to do all of it

I wanted to do all of it, now

I’d play rock, blues, folk, funk, metal,
Country, pop, weird, avant-garde stuff
And psychedelia

However, most people seem to be more
Chocolate or vanilla or strawberry
But not all of the above

So, somewhere along the way,
I’d lose the crowd because I played a song
That was just toosomething
For their tastes

I don’t play or follow sports
So, there went any conversation
With three-fourths of the
Male population, right there

I’m accepting of all religions
But I don’t belong to any
So, I don’t have any of the neat, lapel buttons
To get me into those meetings

I hate bullies
So, I never get invited to the hate crimes
Instead, I’m the idiot who will
Stand with the guy who is outnumbered,
Just because he’s outnumbered

But I think everyone is fair game
When it comes to rude jokes
Especially me
Because, if you can’t laugh at me
Then, who the hell can you laugh at?

But I sort of suck at political correctness
So, I piss off most of the woke crowd

It’s OK, the feeling is mutual

I don’t get into cosplay or anime
I’m not a Star Trek guy, though I like the show
I don’t collect or read comics or manga
I don’t keep up with most television

I advocate healthy eating but I’m not vegan

I can dance but don’t really like to
I can cook but don’t really like to
I can small talk but don’t really like to

I only comment on politics
When it looks like my country
Is about to shift into fascism;
I’ve talked way too much about politics
In the last four years

I’m no fan of hatred
So, I don’t get to sit with any of
Those guys in the white sheets
Or the black boots, bald heads and suspenders

But I’m a little too strange of a white guy
For most minorities to feel
Totally at ease around me

It’s probably safer to have
“Normal” white friends
And I actually get that;
I don’t take any offense to it

I’m not fluent in any other languages,
Despite having taken both French and Spanish
So, I don’t get to play interpreter for anyone

I think the climate crisis is way more severe
Than nine out of ten people do
Want to clear out a room fast?
Bring that up and watch them all scurry

I’m not a cat person
So, that rules out about three-fourths
Of the female population, right there

But I can always talk about dogs
With other dog lovers
And there’s a saving grace, for certain

I’m into martial arts and that’s too violent
For many people
But I’m not a black belt in anything I studied
So, I’m not important enough to listen to
In those groups
And even the style I’m most into,
Jeet Kune Do, is controversial,
Because it’s extremely eclectic
And it thumbs its nose at any type of
Tradition, purely for the sake of tradition
So, that pisses off a lot of people
Who practice traditional styles

I’m not a Right-Wing nut job but I support
The second amendment and I own guns
So, I just ostracized myself from
Both the Right and the Left,
Right there

I don’t surf or skate or snow ski
I’m not a connoisseur of fine wines
Or fine cuisine
I don’t read anything on best-seller book lists

I’ve always been either
Lower class or lower, middle class
So, I can’t get into any of the swank affairs

But I’m a bit too odd to get invited to
Most of the cool kids’ parties

It doesn’t really help that
I don’t smoke weed and I don’t usually drink
The lack of these habits raises many eyebrows

I don’t fit hand-in-hand with most, other people

Even my closet friends,
Dear, dear, beloved friends
Would readily admit:

“Yes, he’s an odd one.
Oh, we love him.
We just don’t claim to really
Understand him.

We think it’s probably quite enough
To just love him
And let it go at that.”

And with that statement, I’d completely agree

I’m perfectly content to be
The black sheep, the odd man out
The different one

But all this lack of fitting in
Has helped me, in one, very clear way

It has compelled me to develop
A desperately needed survival skill
And that is

Good listening

Because I learned early on
That if I was going to last
More than ten minutes
In any conversation,
In any room,
Anywhere

I did much better if I
Kept my rather strange opinions,
Beliefs and attitudes
To myself

But I did even better, still

When I could repeat back the opinions,
Beliefs and attitudes that someone else
Had just expressed to me

Everyone appreciates being
Truly heard

Not everyone needs to be agreed with
It isn’t even everyone who
Needs to be appreciated

But everyone
Likes to know that you were
Actually listening

And if they say anything at all
About music, martial arts, chess, poetry
Or anything else I’m interested in
Well, I might have just bought myself
Ten more minutes of friendly conversation

And when all else fails,
When I’m talking to someone and I can’t find
Any common ground… at all

I can always punt
I default to the saving grace of
Dogs

But if it becomes clear
That they don’t like dogs…

Well, then it’s clearly just time to leave


©2021 Kevin Trent Boswell


Photo by Arianna Jadé

Magus72 on Patreon