radial beams
smile sears through
the morass of tedious
normalcy
similar to a sizzling steak
on the grill in the backyard
good feelings spray out
like the water from a
rotating yard sprinkler
hand me a straw
and let me sip
this sugary cocktail
of swirling girlish charm
easy to drink
drunk on the polarity
of what she is
and what I am not
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
like a game of
Jenga, or Operation
like the careful restructuring
of a house of cards
how to
delicately slide
the desired shape
out of its current position
and into the one
I choose?
it’s absolutely essential
to have a steady hand,
to avoid upsetting the harmony
must not startle,
or cause alarm
she is nestled ⠀
comfortably
into her little nook, ⠀
her home
if it is indeed possible that
she might be moved by me…
then I must proceed
ever so gently, deftly,
with the greatest
of charm and tact
otherwise, the whole structure
could come tumbling
down
one must be debonair,
unhurried, poised, skilled,
perhaps even a bit
devil-may-care
for a handler of cards,
the appeal of the card
is what strength she brings to his hand
does she make for a
weak pair of twos?
or does she complete his straight flush?
does she make him look and feel
like the winner of the game?
but the card herself,
she is far more impressed
by the manner in which
an adroit dealer is able to
adeptly and confidently ⠀
handle her
expertly positioning her
without her necessarily
noticing
she wants to feel
safely controlled,
lovingly held,
as a crowning
symbol of
fulfillment
and fruition
but if the Queen of Hearts
is yielding…
if she offers some assistance,
some small help
in wiggling her out
of that lonely position
between the Three of Clubs
and the Four of Spades,
then there’s hope
and I will keep that card
always
up under my sleeve,
right next to my skin
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
no flailing
hopelessly
against the
locked door
no hurling of self
at the feet of the
unappreciative,
useless,
would-be
royal
no pleading
with a fickle child,
changing-with-the-wind,
always insistent,
and never gracious
there shall only be
the championing
of the devout
worshipper
the one who basks
in the joy of being
in the presence
who abundantly,
persistently,
and clearly
sings the praises
this,
this is the only head
that shall be
crowned
and kissed
and covered
by praise and protection,
by the gift of honor,
and the giving
and receiving
of service
service
rendered
in endless
and selfless
bliss
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
I mourn the loss
Of who I thought I knew
But as it turns out,
I do not miss you
I grieve for the person
You pretended to be
It helps to remember
You never loved me
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
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
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
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
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
Kevin Trent Boswell 