life – Page 4 – Kevin Trent Boswell

Silence is Aluminum

They say it’s gold, but
I don’t actually own much gold

I do, however, have many things
That are made out of aluminum

Most of my furniture is aluminum frame,
The bookshelves, front of the refrigerator,
The handles of my cooking utensils

I have a lot of silence

Sure, I watch movies and YouTube videos
I read, listen to music, have friends over

But I have a lot of silence

Why? Because it’s easier

It’s easier than dealing with people
People who think it’s cool to be rude
People with impossible standards,
Standards that everyone is supposed to
Live up to… except them

It’s much easier than trying to date,
Only to be used for food,
Validation of her ego, then ghosted, and
Offered up as an unwilling sacrifice for
TikTok rage content and lies told over
Spilled tea

All because I refused to be a wet doormat,
And that… THAT makes me a monster

But in my aluminum Fortress of Solitude,
No one expects me to be a mind reader

The only mind I need to read is mine
And I can do that quietly,
Without anyone yelling at me,
Nagging me, belittling me in public,
Belittling me in private, or
Giving me backhanded compliments

Aluminum doesn’t weaponize
The things I say to it in confidence

Al, atomic number 13
Doesn’t self-sabotage just because
It felt unworthy of being mine

Aluminum is strong
It doesn’t corrode

It’s electrically conductive,
So, you might even say
It has a sort of emotional intelligence

It is both willing and able to move signals
From Point A to Point B,
Instead of secretly harboring resentment
For months or years

Aluminum doesn’t send mixed signals

Aluminum is non-magnetic
So, it doesn’t let strangers come in
And use it when I’m at work

It doesn’t blame me
Because I was too busy working
To give it the constant, whirlwind of
Narcissistic attention that it craved

It’s recyclable, so you could say that,
Instead of blaming you
For its own feelings of emptiness,
It has the capacity to learn and
Change its shape

It’s adaptable

Aluminum can’t exactly grow,
But it provides a stable base for growth

I have living plants sitting on
My aluminum desk by the window

Aluminum is cold, but
I can heat it up very quickly

And it cools down quickly, too;
It doesn’t hold on things

So, I don’t get surprise burns,
Thinking, “Surely it must have
“Cooled off by now.”

Aluminum is so reliable and lightweight
That they use it in the stuff they
Launch humans into space with

It doesn’t collapse and give in
At the first signs of stress

If the aluminum items in my place
Should break, then I know that
I was the problem

If I was the problem, then ⠀
I can fix the problem⠀⠀

With aluminum, ⠀
I don’t have to wait ⠀
For an iron leopard ⠀
To change its rusty spots

If my things are broken, then I obviously
Put too much stress on them,
I put too much weight on them,
Or I moved them back and forth too much

I can’t remember the last time
Something broke around here

But if it did, there’s a certain peace
In knowing whose fault it was,
Knowing that there’s some kind of a
Genuine lesson, something I can learn,
So it simply doesn’t happen again

The same cannot be said
For the outside world
With all of its fickle children

Aluminum is not addicted to chaos

Aluminum is not addicted to dopamine

If something breaks,
There’s no existential angst,
No sitting and wondering,
“Maybe if I had said this? Or done that?
“Or if I hadn’t done that other thing?”

Aluminum is a kind, loving 7

It’s not a 4 ounce hunk of entitled lead
That swears it’s 10 ounces of gold

It’s not 9 ounces of copper
That hates itself and truly believes
It’s only 3 ounces of mercury

Aluminum foil is spread thin every day,
But it doesn’t complain

It’s a team player

It doesn’t have constant, never-ending
Emotional outbursts that
I’m not even allowed to try to help solve

It doesn’t say the opposite of what it means

It doesn’t scream,
“Stop looking at me! Stop talking to me!⠀
“What are you, some kind of creep?!”⠀

It doesn’t scream,
“Oh, my god! Why won’t you look at me?!
“Why won’t you talk to me?! Grow a pair!
“What are you, gay?!”

Instead, it smiles and says,
“I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.
“Let’s cook dinner together. Then, we’ll
“Lie in bed, cuddle, and watch our show.”

Silence is solid, reliable,
Sturdy, trustworthy
Aluminum

It’s cheap, easy to manufacture,
Easy to maintain

Rather than blame me
For not being able to afford diamonds,
Gold, silver, mahogany, or marble,
Aluminum says, “We got this, babe.
“We don’t need anything but each other.”

Empires are built on aluminum

Aluminum is loyal

It doesn’t walk away for selfish,
Trivial reasons

Aluminum is helpful and nurturing

It quietly says, “Let me take your coat.
“Here, set your things down and rest.
“Lie down on me and let me soothe you.”

It doesn’t pout;
It’s just patiently, contentedly silent

It doesn’t compete with me
Or bait me into arguments
Or wait until I’m feeling proud of myself,
To insert the perfectly-timed,
Most embarrassing and devastating
Passive-aggressive jab
To take all the air out of my balloon

Aluminum says, “Relax. Breathe.
“You’re safe here with me.”

I don’t want anyone
To bring me a table

I already have
A perfectly good aluminum table

All I might ever need is for someone to
Bring something to my table

Something like, oh, I don’t know,
Maybe… good conversation, love,
Emotional support, kindness, respect,
Some graceful feminine energy,
Manners, a hot meal, a cheerleader spirit?

Nah, nobody hears that “crazy talk”

It’s way too loud out there
In the asphalt jungle
With all the steel girders and
Glass ceilings

But it’s nice and quiet in here

Sitting in aluminum silence is preferable
To allowing cruel people into my domain,
People who say horrendous things
That offend, wound the ego, and
Make you ask yourself, “What would
“Possess a person to believe this is
“How you should treat others?”

People who respond with a dismissive,
“You’re too sensitive.”

Rather than,
“I’m such an awful, mean-spirited toddler
“That my terrible behavior shocked you.”

I’d rather lie on my comfortable mattress,
On the aluminum bed frame,
And watch movies, or read, or sit in a

Peaceful

Aluminum

Silence

undefeated champion

From the book in the current by Kevin Trent Boswell, available on Amazon

waiting at the helm of a great warship
called Spectacle
is the captain

a brave man
become myth

he whose eyes
have seen men perish
in campaigns
not yet born
or even conceived

whose castle walls have not folded
and have not been compromised

whose war dogs bear teeth
that are, themselves,
the very latticework of hell,
the stalagmites in Plato’s cave

his minions know the spiced morsels
of victory
his fruit is purpose;
his seed,
vision

no perverse enigma
flails itself against him
defeat claws at his ankles
but it has no firm grasp
laughing, he shakes off
such ridiculous pests

with a gargantuan arm,
he wields a bastard sword
and lops off the heads of cowardice
impaling indecision
rendering the obtuse
asunder

nonchalantly cuts the throats ⠀
of his desires
with the spur of his boot
and serves them
to his children

this is our hero,
the protagonist who waltzes in,
commanding that fear bow down
and obey him

all the flies of apathy scatter
the vermin of status quo fascism
gnawing off their tails,
choking on the bribes they accepted

some keel over from fright
and others die straight out
from shame when they see
him coming

strutting on the pathway
made from the hides
of indolent fools
he comes
to conquer

in the current by Kevin Trent Boswell — Available on Amazon

Half

No point in trying, we see the impossible
Eighty percent are chopped in two
Everything we ever did was all wrong
Nothing that we were taught was true

It’s no use to refine or reach out
Nothing is left in the bin to sort
We can’t be two halves of a whole
The ball is always dragged into court

Years of digging, chasing the veins
To find the heart, a center, a core
But emptiness only weaves and bobs
Ducks out and fucks off to explore

Half of us cut in half by the clock
Cold butcher knife calendar cleave
Constantly screaming we’re wrong
We load, we chamber, and leave

Don’t Read This Poem

You don’t want to read this poem
Because it doesn’t conform to your view
Hell, it barely matches my own
So, it might not appeal to you

To enjoy this, you’d have to be able
To challenge your beliefs and behaviors
It doesn’t confirm preconceptions
And it’s utterly devoid of saviors

In this poem, I’m not the champion
It holds up no heroes to idolize
Neither does it have evil villains
There’s no money, sex, gossip, or lies

It asks only that we be better people
That’s all that it does… that’s it
And this is why it stings my pride
And why most will say that it’s shit

You have been warned, if you read this
You may regret some choices you’ve made
You might question some of your actions
Or feel bad about the part that you played

So, don’t even read the first line
That’s how you find yourself in a pickle
Next thing you know, you’re wondering
If you’ve been cruel, selfish, or fickle

Before we start asking tough questions
Ones that show just how we’ve been slack
Before we lose our ability to play Victim
Let’s not read this… and never look back

Downstream

The merciful tyrant
Unwittingly enslaves himself
Head chained to a stone,
A fraction of an inch
Above the grinding wheel

Sweat pours off the brow,
Enough to fill an empty chalice,
The kind of cup that one might
Craft by hand, and set apart
Solely for use in special feasts,
Feasts that never took place
Except in the mind

A mind that now rots
Inside a bone cell,
Cuffed by steel bands
To a stone tablet,
Where it struggles to
Hold itself up,
Away from the wheel,
Less than a tired wink of sleep
Below

How it all occurred is
A promethean comedy of errors

An artificial notion became planning;
Plans inched stealthily forward,
Advancing toward schemes,
Where the schemes beget a clusterfuck,
And the clusterfuck exploded
Into a bucket of shit and
A bathtub of tears

I have wasted the infinite scream

That spectacular spectacle
Of standing above the relenting chasm,
In the assumption of a god form
And a triumphant rush of endorphins

Being full of such arrogance
As to declare oneself a great thing

It is but the backsplash
Of crashing waves,
The backdraft of a conflagration,
The hammer claw that slips carelessly
Off of the head of the nail, and
Slaps back hard into the face of
The one who holds the hammer,
The swirlies of high school bullies

Proverbial pissing
Into a primordial storm

Hubris, personified

The Devil laughs hardest
At we mortals
Who merely dabble
In part time blasphemy

He is quick to show us
Who invented the game,
And who we should call “El Jefe”

His pool cue is the stolen staff of Moses

He chalks it with dust
From the tombs of martyrs

He runs the table every time,
Right from the break

Casually leans back and smiles,
Lights a cigarette, and
Does his best Marlon Brando,

“Rack ‘em up, boys. Double or nothin’.”