And He Wept

Jesus wept
And I know why
Impossible, the weight
Of this world, to deny

Jesus wept
And I understand it
When so few give love
And so many demand it

Jesus wept
More than he bled
Meaning of the words,
Right over the head

Jesus wept
With heavy heart, breaking
So little effort, to give
All lost, in the taking

Jesus wept
In solemn recognition
Of hatred, beating love
Into submission

Jesus wept
And I do, too
This could’ve been heaven
For me and for you

Jesus wept
Cried harder than I
He knew the potential
We possess and deny

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell

Main Photo by @seb

Latest Book Release

remission, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

remission


Other Titles Available

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next


Support more music, poetry and madness by Trent Boswell over at: Patreon.com/Magus72

More Information

YouTube music channel 

Instagram

Tumblr

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Magus Music Facebook page 

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Blogger

Twitter

Conjure Sound

Reverb Nation 

antiverse

Looking For A Way

Music video for “Looking For A Way”, a song from the album Flagship by Trent Boswell.


Lyrics:

Looking For A Way

I climbed like a monkey, up in a tree
Trying to find a piece of me
Way up in the branches so high
I found that I cannot fly… as of yet

But I’m looking for a way

I’m at fault for inciting the madness
And sometimes I can’t stop the sadness
But I’m learning to ride waves of joy
Toward manhood moves a boy

Looking for a way

I got dizzy and fell like a lion
Into the dust of Orion
Those stars; the ones up in the sky;
The one he made up in his mind,
The one that’s still looking

Looking for a way
And I haven’t quit yet

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell


The album, Flagship, is available at:

Flagship, by Trent Boswell - original avant-garde rock music

iTunes

Amazon

Spotify

Or get your own, signed copy of Flagship over at Conjure Work.


Trent Boswell – lyrics, all guitar parts, vocals, album producer

Ed Kopp – bass guitar

Brett Waress – drums and hand percussion

Tommy Brothers – audio engineering


Show Your Support

You can help by hitting the thumbs up 👍 button, directly on the YouTube page.

Subscribe ✅ to get more of this kind of madness. Be sure to ring the little notifications bell 🔔 and select “all”.

Support more music, poetry and madness by Trent Boswell over at: Patreon.com/Magus72


Special Thanks To

For all of the really cool footage, photography and visual special effects, special thanks goes to the following people:

Ingo Joseph

Lukas Rodriguez

Andrea Piacquadio

Martina Tomšič

Magda Ehlers

Charlie Mounsey

Miguel Á. Padriñán

Alex Andrews

slon_dot_pics

RF..studio

Lennart Wittstock

Anastasia Shuraeva

Marlon Schmeiski

Erik Mclean

ROMAN ODINTSOV

RODNAE Productions

fotografierende

Yash Lucid

Alexander Krivitskiy

Ricardo Esquivel

Pavel Danilyuk

Rakicevic Nenad

Igor

Aaron Kittredge

Luis Quintero

cottonbro

Polina Tankilevitch

Avonne Stalling

Largo Editt

Tima Miroshnichenko

Lucas Pezeta

Wendy Wei

KoolShooters

Wellcome Library

Also, Michael Burrows, Li Sun, Ron Lach, Samson Katt, Pressmaster and PhotoMIX Company.


Latest Book Release

remission, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

remission


Other Titles Available

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next

Support more music, poetry and madness by Trent Boswell over at: Patreon.com/Magus72

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

More Information

YouTube music channel

Instagram

Tumblr

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Magus Music Facebook page

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Blogger

Twitter

Conjure Sound

Reverb Nation

antiverse

Perception

You may think you’ve seen this one but you ain’t. The new, improved and at least 333% stranger version of “Perception” from the album Flagship by Trent Boswell.


Lyrics:

Perception

What’s a man supposed to do?
It’s hard today just not to lose
So, when I’m down and beaten blue
I look around and think of you

Sink into my contemplation
Answers come with concentration

And strong opinions, well I have mine
And you may find me blind
But I don’t mind because it’s true;
I’ve never needed to see you

Walking ‘cross the field,
I realize that nothing’s real
No pain or joy

Out on the lawn the past is gone
I simply can’t be wrong anymore

Was paid a visit, a strange man
He said that Jesus could lend a hand
Now many a man can’t see the road
Or make a stand on his own

If God is Love, then Love is God
And you agree without a nod

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell


The album, Flagship, is available at:

Flagship, by Trent Boswell - original avant-garde rock music

iTunes

Amazon

Spotify

Or get your own, signed copy of Flagship over at Conjure Work.


Trent Boswell – lyrics, all guitar parts, vocals

Ed Kopp – bass guitar

Brett Waress – drums


Show Your Support

You can help by hitting the thumbs up 👍 button, directly on the YouTube page.

Subscribe ✅ to get more of this kind of madness. Be sure to ring the little notifications bell 🔔 and select “all”.

Support more music, poetry and madness by Trent Boswell over at: Patreon.com/Magus72


Special Thanks To

For all of the really cool footage, photography and visual special effects, special thanks goes to the following people:

cottonbro

Johannes Plenio

Stef

Mikhail Nilov

KoolShooters

Mikke House

Frank Cone

Anni Roenkae

Fiona Art

Tima Miroshnichenko

Axel Vandenhirtz

As well as Pressmaster and Erin Li.


More cool, weird, poetic, philosophical, musical and sometimes disturbingly odd stuff at:

https://KevinTrentBoswell.com

https://ThePlasticInfinity.com

conjunct pluto

This piece is from an upcoming collection of poems, called conjunct neptune. The details of the book are in the link, which is the first poem that I wrote in the series. If you haven’t been through that one, it might be more helpful to read it, first. There, I explain what the theme of the book is.

This piece is about Luna, our Moon, when She reaches the point in the roughly twenty-nine day, lunar cycle that She sits in the same space with Pluto… you know, that thing that wasn’t a Planet and then it was for a while… and then it wasn’t, again.

Pluto is similar in several ways to Saturn. The similarity resides in that both Saturn and Pluto/Hades represent a miserly, curmudgeonly, old and cranky energy. They’re both decidedly masculine in presentation but definitely not in a loving father kind of way. Saturn is said to have eaten his own younguns.

Saturn/Kronos Eating A Delicious Snack

Pluto is the Roman God of Wealth. While not identical in nature to Hades, He is similar enough, in many respects.

He holds dominion over wealth, particularly anything that is obtained from the Earth. Since our whole economy is (or was or ought to be; you decide) based on the trading of gold, silver and thousands of other minerals, that’s arguably a rather huge amount of influence on money.

All that goes into the making of the things we buy and sell and trade, it all comes out of the Earth. Even services use material resources (offices, paper recording keeping and endless cups of coffee). This means that they, too, are part of Pluto’s territory.

The Greek equivalent of Pluto is Hades, who is famous for presiding over the Underworld, as it was laid out in Greek mythology. While Hades is not synonymous with Christian concepts of Satan or the Devil, He was still considered to have a brooding, intense personality. It’s said that He was the least-liked of all the gods and usually called upon only for curses.

One thing is sure enough, when astrologers look to Pluto, when other planets are aspecting that body, the effect is one of intensification. Whatever it is, the force of Pluto is one that assists in creating wealth; many uber-rich folks have a Jupiter/Pluto conjunction in their natal chart. But that same energy acts as a multiplier of other ideas and behaviors, as well. Not all of them are good, by anyone’s yardstick.

Pluto generally gives a dark, rather gruff and grumbly, moody tone, one which is keenly interested in power, information, serious research, the accumulation of large amounts of money and so on. The characters of Scrooge and Dr. Frankenstein both come to mind.

Pluto’s influence is the stuff that spy novels, governmental coups and hostile corporate takeovers are made of. So when the lovely, sweet and nurturing energy of the Moon meets with the Lord of Hell, the mood tends to turn a little dark.

This is compounded by the fact that (among Her sweeter qualities) Luna is also a harbinger of mystery, confusion and sometimes, even madness. These are usually (although by no means, always) in reference to initiations and rites of passage. But sometimes, it’s the plain ol’ garden variety crazies.

When Luna conjoins Pluto, attitudes in general lean toward the more greedy, distrustful and even the downright paranoid.

This is not to say that a person who has Luna conjunct Pluto in their chart would have these terrible (or the more positive) traits. A person has many Planets and aspects between them, each thing acting as a counterweight against the others.

Here’s a neat list of famous peeps who have this aspect. They’re a wide mix of personality types, though it’s safe to say that most of them lean toward the intense side of things, even when it’s a positive flavor of intensity. So this piece isn’t about bashing anyone who has that aspect (nor is any other piece in the collection).

No, this is about the energy of these two stellar bodies, by themselves, if we were somehow able to isolate them from everything else. We cannot, obviously. In this hypothetical case, the nurturing of the Moon is almost always degraded and polluted by the the obsession that Pluto represents. The wealth multiplication of Pluto is deranged by the comfort-seeking of Luna and results in “I need all of it, so I can feel good.”

If you enjoy the poem, consider supporting more such creative madness and lunar/plutonian madness, by yours truly, over at Patreon/Magus72.

Now, bearing all of these arcane ideas in mind, I give you (or rather, I row you across the river Styx, to the dark, forlorn shores of)…

conjunct pluto

what fresh hell
is this?

of what use,
is your clever array
of pointless words?

when all, soon enough,
becomes kindling
for the black flames
of unforgiving abyss?

sour not, my tired ear,
you tiny, petulant slug

muddle not, what little respite
is left, of sweet, peaceful silence
with all your futile mumblings
of hope and dreams
and other, such
soap opera nonsenses

leave me alone

and keep all your words…
all those pathetic, condemned souls,
standing foolish on the gallows,
as if last words were ever
anything more than
last

ask me no favors

i expect you to lie

for i see into the murky heart
of all your dark, shady schemes
all your plotting and planning
to stab me in the back
once i am not looking

and because of this,
i am always looking

i am always
watching

i never sleep

i have cameras
and listening devices, bugs
planted everywhere
and a legion of spies

because one must take great care,
and use only a measure of the mean,
an average of what intelligence they offer
using only the most plausible bits
of what the bulk of them say

never place all your bets
on the words of any one, particular spy
because you cannot trust spies
nor words, nor people,
nor intelligence

nor anything else,
for that matter;
not that anything matters

the only thing
that you can trust
is that trust
in anything
is, in itself…
untrustworthy

trust only that things will always break
and that they must be repaired
trust only that things will die
and that the burial of these things
is expensive

the undertaker is himself,
always on the take
and hence, i abstain
from the taking on of
anything that has a pulse
because such things are merely
mouths to feed
they are things which get sick
and doctors, too, are expensive
and they are things which
disappoint you, break your heart

but i’m more sensible than all that;
i paid the doctor to remove my heart

most sensible purchase
i ever made, that surgery

hearts and souls and conscience,
these are luxuries that are far too expensive
too many sick days, lost wages
and worries which are not worth
the wear and tear

but the point is…

i’m watching you
because i know
your ways

you and your patiently,
waiting for me to die
or to slip up or fumble,
so that you may
usurp my power

i know of all your clandestine,
assassin’s designs
your machinations
for the taking of all that i have
all that i have worked for
and all that i have stolen
all that i have swindled away
from the trusting
all that i have, only because
i possessed the backbone,
the fortitude,
to slay the meek
to take what was theirs
and make it my own

in short…
i know
you

because i see
the bitter truth of things,
how all are self-concerned,
consumed with self
and nothing, nor anyone else

therefore, i keep to myself
and i keep everything for myself
i retain all that is,
as my own

since when did anyone
ever do anything
for me?

you must take by force and by fakery
by clever graft and by hard work
and by brute force and by the bloody blade
and you must never give anything away,
not ever, not to anyone
and never sell anything
that you may need, later
and never keep anything that you can sell
and never sell anything too cheaply
but never hold onto anything that is cheap
and will depreciate in value, over time
but never spend too much on anything

you understand?

you must be wily and wise
and clever and most of all,
ruthless and cunning

for all
that there is,
in this barren world,
is the having of things
and the having, not of things

there is the taking
and the being took
and nothing else

and they’ll all try to take
everything that you took
from someone else

they’ll try to take it
for themselves
in a heartbeat,
leaving you with
nothing but
an empty basket
of space,
where things used to be

except that there will be
no basket,
because they’ll have
taken that, too

and so,
mark my words,
you dying insect…

not that words
were ever anything
worth marking down,
unless they were
the words on the deeds
to land and bank accounts…

you mark my words…

you’d better take
and take quickly
or else be
took from

and you’ll be left
not a solitary crumb,
not a single morsel,
to put into the
greedy, little mouths
of all your expensive,
insect offspring

now, off
and away with you

i’ve no time
for you

i’m terribly busy,
watching everything
that was or is
or ever will be

watching it all burn
and crumble
into ash
and blow away,
into oblivion

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell


Latest Book Release

remission, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

remission


Other Titles Available

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

More Information

KevinTrentBoswell.com

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

No More

Author’s Note: This piece is brand new. This piece is ancient. It speaks of things which happen daily. It shares memories of the long, long ago. It is deeply rooted in yesterday. It is severed from everything except tomorrow.


No More

No more crawling, borrowed knees
To beg or steal a parched penance
Privilege of chewing
Tiny, tinfoil excuses

Receipts, all signed
Cuneiform zero
There, in the register
Where it speaks of the balance
Which is long overdue
A large and loud emptiness

The slaying of pragmatism
And the prodigal son
The wisest of investments
Healthy, constant dividends
Since there are no returns

Assets freely traded
On the scales in the marketplace
Sacrifices, invisible, smoking
On strange altars of doubt

Multiplication of manna eaten in secret
Loaves baked, foreign recipes
Nets tossed into distant waters
Plucking up fishes, filling the nets
Pouring floods out of the wide mouth
Fleeing the estate, belly of greater fish
Absconding from duty
Tariffs of masticating consummation

Cutting off the heads of what was,
Peeling away, shedding foul-smelling skin,
Pulling off all those silvery flakes of armor
Toss carcasses in frying pan,
Serve with herbs grown in new earth
Feast, fructifying small kingdom
And a table for one

No more buried talents
All now upon display
A day of rest is earned
In the refusing of yesterday’s complacency
Tossing out its tired labors

Cutting down the vines
Which brought decades of wine
Wine that choked those throats which drank
In the seeking of blindness
Attempting to drown out
All hearing of familiar, droning complaints

A fatted calf not missed,
From the cool, shaded hammock
That swings peacefully in a calm, quiet
Where the only shadow cast
Is that of the grand, old oak tree
Whose face is always welcome
Who speaks only and ever
Kindly of its kin
Or not at all

Wait now, at the oasis,
For the promised bride’s coming
Who brings the cool water from the well,
For a desert weary camel

All is soon to be right,
For the steadfast resistance
Against worldly temptations

Sovereignty steps out
Dropping the broken, black irons
Of miserable bondage
Lead, flowing through the river veins
Of miserly brothers
Cruel rage of bad blood

New, mazel tov celebrations
Of kaphar, divine grace
Selah and hallelujah
In a day of jubilee

The god of forgetfulness,
Is ever gracious and joyful
Drunk on the charms
Of plentiful, good company

Regaled today, by delightful tales,
Told by they who arrive on the morrow
During a banquet, yet to bloom
Banking on its promise
Of them and their warm presence

A toast is drunk daily
To what is seen
Which is nothing
For what is
In the eyes
Most of which
Is good

A steward, in secret
Stealing everything that was sacred
Receives all, in due course
New master’s blessings
Of themselves, a fine reward

And spared a death, daily
The stoning of harsh, marble law
Seven generations
Removed from the sight
And all senses

Tools of old bone
Hand me down worries
Covet, instead, that wild courage
Which rails against the unknown

Naked, cast out
No starved, gulag wages
Demanding the whole
The lion’s share of nary
A single thing

Punished sin of necromancy
Crime of insisting upon the rubric
Of a heritage of heresy
Brooding there, in the long lines
Where impatient fools bicker and stew
Wrestling with the dogs over scraps

A hindsight, an insight
A bird advances, eagerly
Plopping itself into the hand

The exiling of perdition
Raises up its secret children
High above the floods
Where the true blessings of heaven
May kiss them upon their heads
Sealing in immunity against sorrow

That these should never dwell
In that place of woeful wandering
Stone gardens of Golgotha
Where is never and nothingness
Only long, dusky shades
Commiserating with the dead

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge


Latest Book Release

remission, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

remission


Other Titles Available

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell


More Information

KevinTrentBoswell.com

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Strange Leaf

You might have heard the audio track but the video is an entirely different kind of experience.

Strange Leaf” by Kevin Trent Boswell.

This world has been encoded for your protection. The original poem, “Strange Leaf” is published in the book title, remission, available on Amazon and at Conjure Work.

The audio track for “Strange Leaf” is available as a free download at the Patreon page, Magus72.

While you’re there, look over the benefits and perks that patrons get, exclusive content and lots of other bonuses.

If you enjoyed this video, don’t forget to:

Give it a thumbs up 👍 on YouTube
Subscribe ✅
Ring the notifications bell 🔔

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell

Perception

A new music video for the song “Perception” from the full-length, studio album, Flagship by Trent Boswell.

Show your support on YouTube by hitting the thumbs up 👍

Subscribe ✅ to get more of this kind of madness

Ring the notifications bell 🔔 and select “all”


Support the creation of more music, poetry and other, assorted madness from Trent Boswell at:

Patreon – Magus72

Get a digital copy of Flagship for yourself:

iTunes/Apple Music

Or get it straight from the artist, in digital form or get a signed copy of the CD at:

Conjure Work

More Cool Junk

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Beat

That is not dead which can eternal lie
and with strange æons, Death itself may die.

      –H.P. Lovecraft

If you found yourself in Cthulhu’s shopping mall, probably in the swim wear section, you might well hear this, playing over the speaker system.

Zero times hydra, to the power of existence, cubed, over the square root of straight jacket. Solve for Y.


This is “Beat” from my horror collection, Dark Matter – Poems of Horror and Depravity.

Beat – from Dark Matter, Poems of Horror and Depravity

It’s been set to a beat, so that your strange æons might be somehow just a touch more symmetrical in nature.

The .mp3 file is attached, feel free to download it and share with anyone you like. Just click the DOWNLOAD button below, to play the track. Or hold the button down and select your SAVE option.



See it on YouTube:

To continue drinking from this strange well of madness, hit the thumbs up 👍 subscribe ✅ and ring the notifications bell 🔔 and select “all”.


Beat



Nameless, black
Void and choice-less
Surrendered to night,
Full of dark
Wanting nothing,
Now all is empty
Free to take up any chain
Any desire that one might wish for
No desire, no restriction
No thirst for servitude
There is only the vexing slumber
Hunger for the fat of a new kill
Is somehow become as a stranger
Wandering, wanton hex
A nubile delving into psionic prisms
Load the chamber
With hollow shells of the dead
Projected visions of delirium
Angelic chasms
Frightful clamoring in the cranium
Call back the dogs
And let them sleep
For the dawn will soon enough
Overtake their prey
That tender light, shredding matter
Rending garment and flesh
Quite succinctly
No need of drummers
To time the pulse of this tune
The rhythm of it,
A vacillating pendulum
Lo, it is even without the ability
To stray from its precision
The striker upon the cylinder
Is the pointing, bony finger of
The hand of Death, Herself
The hammer that clangs the bell
Is the Mother of Night, incarnate
The femurs of a thousand heroes
Beating against the tanned hides
Of the children of the same
Her crooked digit,
A culminating of perpetual cycle…
Stick meets skin, head warps and
Sound emanates through eternity
Stick meets skin, head warps and
Sound emanates through eternity
Stick meets skin, head warps and
Sound emanates through eternity
A beat all too well pounded into the
Collective memory
Burned into a hive mind
Fallen into cerebral pits of
“Never before”
We have at last, found the true past
It is even more horrid and shameful
Than we feared
It is full of monsters
It is full of us

Copyright 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell

If you dig this particular brand of madness, you’ll want to support the creation of it and get lots of bonuses that aren’t available here or anywhere else, over on Patreon:

Patreon – Magus72

Latest book release:

remission

Other Titles Available:

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next

Patreon – Magus72

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Dangerous

Only one beast in all of creation
Only one which is anywhere known
Finds pleasure, perverse, even vocation
Unnecessarily harming its own

Of nature’s many carnivorous creatures
A vast array of poisons appear
Murder is common among their features
Motives of territory, status and fear

Death was here from the earliest days
Primal defense and sexual stuff
Animals kill in a whole slew of ways
But only one just can’t get enough

Horrific numbers and manners of killing
In the “most-evolved” is hate diagnosed
Not hungry or scared, finds it all thrilling
Only one, to true evil, the host

Complex schemes arise in one beast
Thrives on misery, whenever it can
Though many kill, to say the least
The most murderous critter is man

Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell

Support the work on Patreon

Latest book release:

remission

remission , by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

Other Titles Available:

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next

The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

KevinTrentBoswell.com

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Blind In The Sun

If you like bands like Queens of the Stone Age, Jane’s Addiction, Jimi Hendrix or The Mars Volta, then you’ll probably dig this.

This is a brand new recording of the song that I wrote many years ago but never had a chance to record it until now. I’ve played it live with my band quite a few times but unfortunately, we never caught it on tape.

I’m playing the bass and guitar parts and singing. Everything that you hear on this track is me, except for the drums. That’s because I don’t have access to a live drummer right now. Besides, feeding and caring for a wild animal like that is expensive.

Here’s the full video on YouTube. Don’t forget to hit the thumbs up 👍 subscribe ✅ and the notifications bell 🔔

The song is called blind in the sun and the lyrics are below. Originally, it was a poem and I set it to music (hence the Roman numerals in the lyrics).

The .mp3 file is attached to my Patreon page, so you can go there, download it (for free) and play it whenever you want.

I forget sometimes that people don’t always follow my rather eccentric, artistic choices, so I will explain something about this track. I purposefully chose not to clean up the sloppier guitar licks on this track, because it’s the feel that I was going for… teetering on the edge of the abyss.

Going back and punching in smoother, cleaner guitar parts is easy enough. I just didn’t want ’em, not for this. I’ll mention two songs that inspired my playing on this. One is “God”, by Tori Amos. Her guitar player is way better than he sounds on that track. It’s dirty, gritty and foul, for a reason. The song is about existential angst and the loss of faith, so it’s gotta be grimy.

The other is “Come On (Let The Good Times Roll)” by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. On that song, he does what jazz musicians refer to as “going outside”, meaning that he lets his solos wander just a little bit out of time and out of key, on purpose. Of course, he brings it back in or it wouldn’t be interesting. I chose to step outside on this track but hopefully not too much.

Feel free to share the link to this page or the Patreon page, or the YouTube link on your social media, that’s the best form of advertising there is for underground artists. I thank you in advance. Enjoy!

Just click that big, unwieldy link, below, to listen to the track. Or go to the Patreon page. You can download the song from the Patreon page and have it for your very own. Just don’t forget to water it every few days and never feed it after midnight.

Blind In The Sun

https://c10.patreonusercontent.com/3/eyJhIjoxLCJwIjoxfQ%3D%3D/patreon-media/p/post/45543356/0114204adf4a4bb2b4c492b3e1d80cbd/1.mp3?token-time=1609345733&token-hash=2ZL8WItz55_ogZDHvUN7Am6ticXKPOwsOUgMUTJy7_k%3D

I.

Blind in the Sun⠀
Can you cringe beneath
The shadow of a fly?
You’d better try
Running ‘cross the sand
Fire in the hearts of your band
In the joy of being alive
Stripped of delusion
And so forwardly stride

Lost in the garden
with canonized illusions
There are the keepers
Of the tower
But I am not a member
Of the dark December
The light of the sun refracts
In my eye

II.

Everything is water
Electric fluid matter
In a paper cup
Called Time

III.

Somewhere in the North
There are real vampires
I know you go to visit
From time to time
To roll in the stench
The decadence of
Thirst for blood
To dine with a pack
Of wild gods

I have no intent
Of adopting your bent;
Partying down with the devil
On your shoulder

I have no intent
Of going where you went
Beating on a skull
In a hellish midnight circle

But who am I to say?
That you are not ok?
I will simply stay
Behind

Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell


Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell


Latest book release:

remission

remission , by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission

Other Titles Available:

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

KevinTrentBoswell.com

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloudBlind In The Sun.mp3

Ere Wu Yin (A Fable)

There was once an army,
A most efficient killing machine
Forces twice as large as their own,
They readily crushed under boot

Conquering the mightiest strongholds
And everything that lay in between
Naturally, the other half of the realm,
They decided to rip apart and loot

Launching upon this new,
Shrewd campaign of extended war
They marched upon a city by the river,
A city known as Ere Wu Yin

A simple place, the home of farmers,
Craftsmen and miners of ore
As a military target, it was easy enough
And seemed nothing too difficult to win

General Tsu implored:
Let us, instead, forego this place.
We should pass it by, as it surely holds
Nothing for us that’s of too much worth.

But General Xi said emphatically:
No. Behold that wall, so high that no trace
Of anything is seen, on the other side;
Of most excellent construction and girth.

It is entirely probable that
These meager farms, outside
Are nothing more than guile,
Concealing armaments, with a crafty ruse.

Inside the fortress, there’s likely
A whole brigade, well-supplied.
They may be highly trained, well-armed.
Should they flank us, we would lose.

Furthermore, I would assert, brother
If there are no troops there, to surprise,
No arrows or cannons or spear attacks
To be, upon our heads, set loose,

Then we’ll occupy this circular fortress.
It will be a link in our chain of supplies,
Storage of food and munitions.
For this, for us, it will have great use.

General Tsu nodded and agreed
But with a somber caution, said: True…
But there could be a whole division, inside
For the circumference of that wall is vast.

If we send in multiple waves of attack,
One by one, as we usually do,
We could be slowly cut into ribbons
Reduced in number, we’d not long last.

They put their heads together in thought
And strategized about the matter
Then decided that the whole of their army
Would launch in unison; one, great assault

They’d breach the mighty wall
If necessary, by rope and ladder
And until the last of their troops was slain,
They would not slow the charge, nor halt

Two generals lined up all their brave men
Readied the weapons and on, they rode
With ferocity, straight at the city gate
Full speed and with a deafening roar

The simple farmers put down their tools
And signs of surrender, they showed
But a few of the men ran to the wall,
To lower the bridge and open the door

The generals assumed this to be proof
Indeed there was an army of Ere Wu Yin
Who were inside the wall and soon, they’ll
Rush to defend home against plundering

But no army appeared, no cannons fired
And no arrows flew out, from within
Saw nothing inside and the only sound,
Hooves of their own horses thundering

The generals, being experienced warriors
Knew it best to press on with the charge
For it could be that the soldiers hid
Waiting for them, right behind the wall

Conversely, if there were none present,
Victory would be swift and large
But they dare not assume it was the case
That the city would so easily fall

So, they cheered and they roared
And went ahead with the original plan
Generals demanded the men be vigilant,
Ready for the defenders that lay in wait

The whole of the army stormed right on in,
Every last, mounted cavalry man
But they met no resistance at Ere Wu Yin,
Not on either side of that towering gate

The whole of two divisions, now inside,
Those of General Xi and General Tsu
Coming to stillness, they puzzled fearful,
Suddenly realizing, they were all alone

There was absolutely nothing, whatsoever
There was no one inside, no fighting to do
Nothing but empty land and themselves
Encompassed by a thick wall of stone

Their minds raced back and forth,
Grasping at any and every straw
Had they won? Was it over? Would an
Army soon pour in, slay them and gloat?

The cavalry of Generals Tsu and Xi
Saw that here, there was none to outdraw
The front gate slammed shut and locked
Drawbridge pulled away from the moat

A peculiar sound, like a crack of lightning
The sound of a myriad of unlatching rows
Thousands of doors, opening all at once
Mounted in the very top of the wall

And out from these doors, sprang up fast Thousands of men, with rifles and bows
Evenly, shoulder to shoulder, all around
Looking quite dire; not very nice, at all

They set sights on the cavalrymen,
Who’d stumbled into a clever, death trap
So many, they could kill them all twice
And possibly, several times more

Keenly aware that they would soon die,
Generals straightened coat and cap
Sat up straight in his saddle, ready to die
This genius gambit, they could not ignore

Tsu spoke loudly, with a steady voice:
It’s an honor to die in battle. Much more so,
At the hand of the superior general,
One who is so skilled in the art of war.

It was custom to fight to the death
If a meager chance at victory did show
But one should lay down his arms, humbly
If defeat was certain, if hope was no more

And so, the generals ordered their men
To show honor, even in this awful defeat,
Surrender and to be put to death
Soon, they’d all be with their departed kin

Two, proud generals dismounted, kneeled
Laid treasured weapons down at their feet
Bowed their heads low in surrender
Dutifully but with a sadness, chagrin

Each of the soldiers then followed suit
Left their saddles, laying down arms
Silently kneeled, prepared themselves
To render the price that they must pay

Humbled in the dust, thought of the wives,
The children and all the world’s charms
All the things that they were about to lose
Because of the trap Ere Wu Yin did lay

After prayers to ancestors and gods,
The vexed soldiers were not at all harmed
Cautiously lifting heads, were astonished
To find their captors had all disappeared

The rear door of the stone fortress wall
Open, unguarded; the farmers, unarmed
The back drawbridge was lowered down
And the way out was thoroughly cleared

Bemused generals ordered the troops
To gather weapons and mount up again
And slowly, tepidly, they rode on out
The side opposite the way they’d come in

They rode slowly past the farmers, who
Tended their crops; only if or when
Soldiers came close by, would they stop
Offering a friendly wave and gracious grin

As the army rode out, General Xi fumed
He felt shamed, disgraced and humiliated
He suggested they return again, later
This time with more men and a plan

He proposed to come more prepared
Ere Wu Yin’s tricks now anticipated
Laying siege to the city, starve them out
And then to kill every last, living man

Tsu fed his horse a carrot and said:
I think it best to forget about returning.
Let us go home now, thank our ancestors
With every breath and each horse’s trot.

These people possess a strange secret.
A sublime wisdom, within them, is burning
Ere Wu Yin’s people terrify me, brother.
They know something… that we do not.

Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell

Author’s Note: this is an original story, not based on any historical persons, places or battles. The names and events are pure fictional.


Latest Book Release

remission

remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell on Patreon

KevinTrentBoswell.com

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

untitled

the dark nighttime

has many visions,

lost illusions, all seeking

to guide you

into foul madness,

struggling beneath

too-short

and coarse covers

trust your gut,

sweet child

for nothing but light

is inside you

the same

may not always

be said

of the others

look both ways

before you cross over 

the unknown

threshold

there is the light

which is in you

true

and bold

and then there’s

all of the everything 

else

that’s out there

some lights

which have gone out

but haven’t yet

been told

devils may take the

appearance of angels,

so always 

take care

these would

warm themselves

by the fires of

your favors

but themselves,

cannot

return

the good deed

gratitude absent,

and all the 

usual, 

good flavors

are not nearly so much 

in them,

not so much as 

they need

caring, something

they’re sometimes

quite good

at feigning

but they would 

not do so much 

at all,

were they able

to give you

assistance

they assist

by restraining

so that you make

in their making

up the food

on the table

in those dark places,

your rules don’t

make up

for the senses

your eyes

often fail

and your hearing

goes dumb

you‘re a good child,

a smart one

keeps up

strong defenses

against the weaving

of webs that would

have you

succumb

listen not

to easy tales 

of leisure

or love

be generous

to the grateful,

giving too much,

one discovers

there’s humanity

in your heart

and it fits you,

like a glove

but the same

may not always

be said

of the others

listen closely

when the light

whispers its

soft warning

go not lightly

where it would

sternly 

guide you away

lean gentle

upon your genteel

manners

of good morning

shield carefully,

your beacon

shining,

that it may

ward off those

hungry things, 

slinking 

in the twilight

committing

many crimes

to justify

sadness

your large heart

feeds them 

but the briefest 

time’s highlight

your manners 

won’t bring them

single moment’s

gladness

baleful hunger

returns ever, 

without

pause

more hot and fierce,

and much

stronger

than before

opening you

slowly, 

hiding

their cause

growing more

and more bold,

once you open

the door

in knowing

what warm,

nice feelings

spill out of you

upon your noble,

good faith,

they come

again to dine

a stitch of

incredulous

will keep away

death’s hue

after all

is said and done,

it almost always

saves nine

trim the wick

of your candle,

its bright light,

inspire

keep your

powder all dry

and your lamp

tinder lit

the pushers

of darkness,

small steps lead

to the dire

be careful

and wise

and don’t

fall for it

strange misgivings

will have you 

to shirk, 

with sudden attitude

even the

friendliest

of those come

hither smiles

the first thing

to go, 

once they get in,

is your mood

lasting longer

than it should,

means you’re taken

by the wiles

hold your memory

tight 

and never let them 

touch

trust, when the way down 

is nagging

and the good feeling 

lacks

harken which hands 

reach for you,

too awful

much

a bother in your belly, 

stops you 

dead in your 

tracks

your energy

will fail,

long before

their thirst

that visceral fear, 

in your warm,

tenderhearted

guts

if you take

the hooked bait,

you’ll soon see

their worst

suspicious,

uncertain

and thinking that

you’re nuts

those uneasy

twinges

that drive you back,

second guessing

from the most

obvious act

of a seeming

benevolence

they’re there

to warn you

of something

bad, pressing

despite daddy’s

words good can 

sometimes draw 

a malevolence

some feed on grace,

manners 

and mother’s charm school

propriety

it’s less commentary

on your love

on more so,

on their bleakness

in spite

of polite

good intentions,

all sobriety

resides in your

maintenance

against your own

weakness

glowing with life,

you are 

and so, must remain

in your poises

stay out of the

shadows

and out

of the foolish

they, and it, wane 

into dark dins

of the most 

horrible noises

which lead

away from light

and down into

the ghoulish

when your social

sensibilities

are suddenly

eviscerated

and it happens

without logical

reasons,

not one

something upon surface

seems

rather

uncomplicated

do not question it,

dear child,

instead…

turn and run

abdominal doubt

scorning the

solid

handshaking

is hidden

inside of

your knotted-up,

inward self

signal of a threat, 

through 

inexplicable

quaking

though they look

the good deal,

put them back

on the shelf

never wander

too closely

to the edges

of the dark

shadows have

been known,

on occasion, 

to jump through

to leap out and swallow

flickering,

pretty things

that spark

those that reside

inside of

pretty things

such as you

keep close

to the guard dogs

who growl

behind fierce eyes

when strange

temptations

come close,

offering favors

do not lean in,

or listen

too well

to their lies

the keepers

of darkness

and light

are close neighbors

and sometimes

those shaded

boundaries 

do fall wide open

for some 

always go there,

eager to steal 

keys

this may shock

or confuse,

sensibilities,

all broken

disappearance 

in the night happens, 

with the greatest

of ease

not all are so nice 

as you, child and know 

that some are the weight

of a great, heavy stone

not everyone

and everything

would have you

to live

some would

consume all,

even marrow

of your bone

every precious,

last drop of

all the blood

you could give

some of the

monsters feed

quietly

on your brain

not keeping you

in such good

but a good many

shapes

most monsters fall out

from the ordinary

and there,

they remain

until you break

their spells  

and your spirit

escapes

creepers

all slithering

down low,

out of light

shielding from

the bright, good

and sensible

day

well-hidden

under coverings,

many put up 

no fight

but will linger

and drain you

until you rise up

and slay

some appear tricky,

as a lamp 

or a torch

often does

but are only 

cloaks of

drowning 

in the cool shade

storms,

wearing rainbows

where color,

never was

any light

splintering through,

artificially

made

devils with dowries

invite you to 

lie on razor sharp 

pillows

with sweet, sugar

poisons,

sharp in the throat,

catch

because some wicks

take to light

easily, 

like dried-up, old willows

candle burns through

the night,

on first strike of

one match

some things

look a lot like a candle,

a flame or 

a spark

but they

will never burn,

no matter how hard 

you try

use up all 

your matches

and still,

in the dark

some will

always break things

and take things

and lie

about other things

like innocence

and light

and hope

lovely or kind

at first glance,

they may

look

but with a lot

of hard scrubbing

and a fair

amount of soap

you’ll discover

the ruse

and note all  

they took

I’m sorry to

have to say, child

not all is 

as it seems

in fact, most

things aren’t,

at deep heart

of the matter

in this world,

there are things

far worse 

than bad dreams

and the daylight

does not cause

them all 

just to scatter

some things

are stubborn 

in slow dying,

sowing trouble

and you’ll never

get back

those things

which were taken

guard against the losses

and in time, 

pop your own

bubble

childhood

dies a bit easier 

with your confidence,

unshaken

but die,

it must do,

since it’s nothing

but a blindness

the warm blanket

of sheltering,

by fathers

and mothers

the love you

possess, child

rewards kindness

with kindness

the same 

may not be said, 

always

of the others

Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell


Latest Book Release

remission

remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell on Patreon

KevinTrentBoswell.com

YouTube

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Music Streaming, Amazon

Music Streaming, Apple Music

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud


The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

Conjure Work

Conjure Work YouTube Channel

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Instagram – KevinTrent Boswell

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ReverbNation

Conjure Sound

Strange Leaf

It’s not about just one thing.

You will easily spot some of the references to what’s going on right now and you’ll be tempted to stop thinking about it any deeper. But there’s far more in this than just what’s on the surface. This piece has no less five, separate meanings.

At the link below, you can listen to the recording. It’s an audio track of a poem that I set to music.

It starts very subtly but as it goes on, more and more layers of sound are building up in the background.

When you click the button, it gives you two options. If you just want to listen, click “view”. If you want to keep it, click “download”.

The words are posted below, in case you want to read over it. Feel free to share it with anyone you want.

Enjoy.

Strange Leaf

Turning over the strange leaf

Turning over the strange leaf

This disease is twisted

Scroll of crisp, fleeting knowledge

Closed

Knowledge of fire

Imminent

Throttle the breath

The king demands to be suffocated

In his sleep

Open the store for business

Give away the store

Surrender the kingdom to foreign invaders

Exposing palace guard

To various and sundry diseases

Each lure is enticing

More flies with honey

Otherwise, who would pay

With their histories?

Draw them all in with promises

Dates, compensation

Envelopes of flesh, pay offs

Reward for job well done

Blown secrets

Welcoming the killer

Taking them in hand

Pressing the lips to theirs

The people marvel, asking… how is it?

That one is so keen on this ruin?

Sitting amid the ashes and smoke

Of everything that has been built here?

These modern assassins

With their blades that are not sharp

And somehow, still cut into the chest

Death hides in expensive papers

Slow poisoning

Curses, binding victims

Black operations

Enchantments of vapor

Fog, happy delusions

The superior general is nowhere to be seen

He is conscious

Too clever

Cannot be made

Knows the angles

Lives and breathes the routine

False front

Encryption easy, plaintext works fine

No one puzzles anymore

Steganography is in the obituaries

Citizens are exhausted

Too tired for such crossword puzzles

Going out for a smoke instead

Trade information

In the marketplace

Exfiltration

Bring the defector

Home

Bite down on the dangling bait

Taking it all in

Believing every breath

Of the lies

Hide in plain sight

Got him by the throat

Control every decision

Deep cover

In the king’s pocket

Eight ball, corner pocket

Potentate busy in the honey pot

Playing with the handler’s mice;

Brief pleasures

Foolish pursuits

The intelligence all warned of these things

Plant the propaganda cypher deep

Where invisible moles dig up dirt

Behind enemy lines

Behind the iron curtain

Inside the iron lung

Flimsy robes providing no cover

Leaving your backside naked

Ass hanging in the wind

Summon the executioner

Simple curling of the finger

Roll up the scroll again

Match strike

Set it all off

Breathe in the satisfaction

Knowing operation is in motion

It’s coming soon

Playback is sanitized

Redaction, blot out the salient bits

Stopping up the pipes

Sell the story to the people

Want to play the game

Mutually assured destruction

Broken rhythms, code

Exorbitant bills

Gray sleeper

Uncle should have had the trigger in place

Monitoring the pulse

Cut out

Build up the legend

Elicitation of consent

Keys handed over for favors

Stay on the reservation

Travel in packs

Operative signals

A cough

Smokescreen

Run out to the store

Real quick

Dead drop

Delivery of small packages

Sabotage

Spanner in the works

Monkey mouth

Tinkering with toys

In terminal waiting rooms

Going to see the tailor and then

To see the cobbler

Fitting out the gear

Getting ready for the ball

Cinderella stories

Surreptitious flaps, seal the lips

Ghouls scour the graveyards

Where soon enough, all walk

A stainless steel ride

On the smooth train

Smoke stacks churning

Nonstop trip over the river

The L-Pill is long and round

It feels warm and pleasant as it

Sweeps the room…

Never know where the bugs are hiding

The chessboard is covered

With hundreds of rooks

Provocateurs and their purple ravens

Send in the pretty bird

She who swallows the signets

Conversation starters

Asking if she can bum a ride

No one can resist sharing with her

A most deadly resource

Infiltrating deep inside

Her smile

Lights up in the house

Show time

All sing like canaries

Under her spell

All light up with anticipation

We’d lose it all, were it not for her

Lost inside these dark clouds

Hearing that sultry siren voice

Regularly calling us

Out into the open

Vulnerable

Always comes

Dressed to kill

In something see-through

How excited each one gets

Peeling off those thin, flimsy wrappings

Hurriedly tossing them aside

For the insanely craved

The fumbling, shaky

Handful of minutes that it usually lasts

Carnal knowledge

Taken inside

Surrendering to the temptations

Wiles of the seductress

Little rituals and pats on the bottom for luck

One is literally turned upside down

Her charm is so strong

She deals in illusions,

Mirages, smoke and mirrors

Her stock and tradecraft

She’s good…

She’s very, very good

Never even questioning the matter

Asses feverishly chasing butts

Into oblivion and ash

Nursemaids gather on the back porch

On every coffee break

Swapping nuggets, juice, gossip, stories

Melodies of the official musicians

Open up the secrets of the music box

Sing the song of familiar comfort

Putting tips into the black hat

Saving up ducats to spend at the commissary

The doctor too, is an asset

Take the medicine

Change in the wind

Even dispersion through the system

Everything flows into place

Pouring in waves

Filling the containers

Enemy assets have infiltrated the realm

Moving now in the open

Impunity

Friends begin to distance themselves

Seeing the information come out

Noting how the map keeps rolling up

How it won’t stay in place

No one wants all that mess

Rubbing off on them

Second hand knowledge of good and evil

Disinformation

Civilians

Collateral damage

Innocents… it’s peculiar how they sound

Like innocence, itself

Out of the loop

Not in the know

Once, we too were innocent

Now, so much dirty laundry

So many secrets

Deeds that cannot be undone

We were all so green

Initial brush contact

Obsessed birdwatchers

True converts

Believers

In the cause

Now we maintain silence

Unnoticeable tip of the head

From across the room

Stepping out back for a quick exchange

And back in before anyone is missed

Dropping an innocent postcard

From time to time

Cultivation

Till the rough soil

Turn the flowerbeds over

Spread the chickenfeed

Spread the seed

Burned

Compromised

Smoking gun

A bit of dry cleaning

Removes the odors and stains

Burn the microfilm, papers, documents

Bona fides

Take off your shoes… all of them;

Don’t forget anything

Think hard about where

You might have hidden some

Step onto the scales

Feel the weight

Step away

Take a seat, bow out, tap out

The man in the coat and tie

Will be in to see you soon

Too much heat in the kitchen

Stepping back

Away from the blowback

Maintain cover, deniability

Pockets, littered with hiding

Cooling off in the shade

Double-cross the bridge

A trip to the hospital

Dressed up like a throwaway pig

In a coffin company suit

Book of matches, tucked into the vest pocket

A sequence of numbers inside

Picked up in grandma’s Cadillac

And going to the penthouse

For the all day long

Erase the problem

With assistance from the Dutch

And all of their superior, problem-solving skills

Transfer of power

Exchange

Change, slight

Sleight of hand

A hand in it

Too many hands

Off limits

Safe house

Tall brown grass

Walking sticks

Dead

Drop

Hush, little baby

Never heard a word

Assure the dying

All is well


From the book remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell. Now available on Amazon.

remission , by Kevin Trent Boswell

© 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell

Patreon

Flagship, by Trent Boswell

YouTube

Sound Cloud

Other poetry titles available:

Liber Ex Liberi

Next

on the page – poems for artists, writers and other hooligans

Dark Matter – Poems of Horror and Depravity

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Nighttime

Author’s Note: This piece is dedicated to anyone who is still awake and should not be, to anyone who is worried about what things are waiting, up ahead.

Nighttime

Trouble, in the nighttime, fell
Upon too wakeful brow,
Which ought to sleep

Coins cast in tainted well,
Uncertainty of where and how,
Enough to cause anyone to weep

Pitching gold piece of its own,
Came an angel of repose and rest
With curious question, whispered, quiet

“A myriad things, all unknown…
How is it you’re certain… to fail the test?
Without shred of doubt, that may deny it?”

Of course, no good answer was there, for this
And searching, mind grew sore and tired
Eyes heavy, in downward creep

The angel placed soft, loving kiss
Upon empty head, thoughts all expired
Drifting peaceful now, into the deep

Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell


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The Open Mic Series – “none”

Here’s a really neat project that I’m pretty excited about!

I asked some of my friends to make recordings of themselves reading my poems. Quite a few thought it was a great idea and were more than happy to contribute.

The link here is the .mp3 of the first one I’ve chosen to present to you. You can click on it and just listen or right-click and save, if you want to keep it. It’s free!


Recording of “none” by Kevin Trent Boswell


By the way, if you want to help out and support more cool stuff like this, see my Patreon page, Magus72.


I’ll be posting them here, one at a time. I’ve had a lot of fun putting this together and I hope you enjoy listening to them.

The main thing I wanted to achieve here is get a variety of people, reading the pieces… in the way that they hear them.

None of the readers were given any prompts about how to read. A few people preferred to have something assigned to them and so I picked for them. But in most cases, they chose their own pieces to read.

This first poem is called “none” and it’s from my book in the current.

in the current, by  Kevin Trent Boswell

Our guest reader is Xander and he did a great job with it. 


Recording of “none” by Kevin Trent Boswell


I’m posting the text, as well. That way, you can follow along or read it first, then listen or just listen and find out where it takes you… your choice. Enjoy.

none

mandala being nightmare…

nothing being curse…

still we strive for 

something!

she cries 

in her 

elliptical 

orbit

cycle of nothingness 

somethingness

separation 

dance

eros 

chance

death, 

arousal and 

denial

correct, 

of course

the role being 

after all 

seductress

how could one say 

that she was wrong?

how could one argue 

that anything

was ever

wrong?

polarities

cry of response 

no avail

she is 

in heat

hears 

nothing 

of my 

dharma

portions of 

infinity 

etc.

no wrong

only difference

how must one 

proceed in 

seeking

to curse

the void?


Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell 

from the book, in the current


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just a game

advantage of en passant 

on the Queen Rook’s file

surveyor eye finds wedge to jam

subtle gambit, invisible, silent

leading astray, all the while

underneath sleepy, hypnotic taunt

rhythm, all assumed with a smile 

double check reveal, cry of damn

wondering how, to hell, it all went 

sniper picks a dapper, gone style

take up a piece

toss them all down 

none of this matters 

trembling helps not

to checkmate the crown

rank and file sheep to fleece

winning smile, inflicting frown

lifeless blood splatters

on one’s hand, to be got; 

enough of it brings a bit of renown

Author’s Note: the rhyme scheme for this is an A, B, C, D, B pattern.

© 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell

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Become a patron today and get extras that aren’t available to the general public. Several different benefit tiers available. 

Five poetry book titles now available on Amazon

The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Dark Matter – Poems of Horror And Depravity 

Next 

Liber ex Liberi – The Book of Children 


Amazon Author Page:

Kevin Trent Boswell

stun

 

cigarette ash
burning long,
conical
the way it happens
when you draw
hard and fast

nothing else
moves

arm lifts
to mouth
lips purse
an exhale of smoke
arm drops

eyes still
fixed
on reflections
dancing on
automobile glass

the news
is still news

frozen
words
moving…
streaming
nonstop
through the mind
on auto play
over and over

eventually
the message,
heavy,
will settle
into place

 

untitled

I chased a martyr

through all hell’s heat

with intention to 

ask him why

he’d run so long 

he was tired and beat

in fact, he could

all but cry

I’d yearned for the moment

when at last we’d meet

and an answer from him

I would pry

and though he was worn,

we raced and he beat

and so I collapsed

with a sigh

Author’s Note: this is a very old piece, not sure of the date but it was in one of my first few poetry notebooks.


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)


The new book is out now, on Amazon:

Chaos Comes Apart

Support the work at my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/magus72

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after the crying

It is truly strange, our choices

In the certain light of death

Each of us inclined to 

A different manner  

Of dispensing or dealing with 

The final breath

One will merely smile 

And go for a long walk 

Another gathers the family 

And prepares a meal,

Over which they might talk

Some will scream silently, 

Slumping down and over slow, 

Into nothingness 

While a newly widowed spouse, 

Enflamed, seeks out a final fling 

with some sexy piece of dress

The bitter recite litanies of pain and 

Assign all manner of important blame

The fighters assault random strangers

Beat them into the ground

And assign them terrible names


Priests herd sheep into house of prayer 

To deliver the last rites 

Of final sleep

Lovers kiss and promise;

This living briefly with the awareness 

of impending loss

causes them to cling and to 

relentlessly weep

Children huddle, whimper and 

Meekly question 

What thing comes next… 

After the crying…

The bony, white lady 

Walks the streets of night, 

She sweeps up the losses

And calls it dying


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

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Battle Against the Public

I think what this pandemic was lacking is a song, a tune that the people can hum. Therefore, to fill the current need, I have adapted an old favorite, with new (improved) lyrics.

I present to you, “Battle Against The Public”.

[sung to the tune of the famous song, Battle Hymn of the Republic]

Mine ears have heard the glory of the 

Omniscient, Orange Lord

He is trampling on the facts  

About the PPE we’ve stored

He hath loosed the fateful virus

By the terrible signs, ignored

His untruth is marching on!

(Chorus)

Story, story, tell it to ya!

It ain’t no worse than the flu… duh!

Praise him or he’ll remove ya!

Our Nonsense marching on!

I have seen His message echoed in the

Online, Right-Wing camps,

They have builded Him an altar 

Where truth‘s secured with iron clamps;

See through His dimwit message 

By the light of Logic’s lamps

His toupée is marching on!

(Chorus)

Friends, who you thought really knew ya!

Tell you it’s a hoax, come to screw ya!

Sit and wait at home, like Buddha!

His Orange is marching on!

I have read a fiery gospel, writ 

In CAPS of angry steel:

“Those who deal with My opponents,

Get respirators that might heal”

Let the Orange Nero, play the fiddle 

Let Americans all kneel

Trump is God and nothing’s wrong!

(Chorus)

Derogatory, press is unfair to ya!

Common sense has got the blues-a!

From Miami and NY to Chattanooga!

The virus marches on!

He has sounded forth the trumpet 

By Easter, we will have it beat;

Well, never mind… but admit, 

That the idea was pretty neat!

Doctors say… he’s a mo-ron!

(Chorus)

Gory, the doctors all conclude-a!

Fateful end, you’ll come to-a!

On breath machine, you’ll turn blue-a!

The buck He’s passing on!

In reports that came from China, 

South Korea, Italy 

The Donald was duly warned 

Of illness, born across the sea,

With mighty golf club in his hand, 

He said “Let’s wait and see”

As He lied to make men wealthy,

Let us try to make men see,

While the President blathers on!

(Chorus)

Glory, brave souls who blew the!

Whistle, sorry no supplies get to ya!

Your on your own, He never knew ya!

Our health care, shat upon!


Copyright 2020

Kevin Trent Boswell


The new book is out now, on Amazon:

Chaos Comes Apart


Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

Patreon

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

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blogspot

Conjure Work

Idol

One may, at any slapdash time

With little more than wink and nod

With no sense, reason, structure, rhyme

Of any chosen thing, make a god


Copyright 2020

Kevin Trent Boswell


The new book is out now, on Amazon:

Chaos Comes Apart


Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

Patreon

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

antiverse

blogspot

Conjure Work


zipper head

zipper head,

open your tender teeth

reveal yourself 

in all 

of all 

that 

you are

clench

the mail

betwixt your steel jaws

deliver the cypher 

into waiting hands

so many crude 

assumptions 

of what you might 

or maybe 

may be

you can come into the arms of 

safe haven,

you are the arms of safe haven 

you are anything but 

safe

haven

let the carpet unroll

before your feet

of marbled steel 

kicking rusty sparks of lightning 

from the concrete

bouncing light 

and quarters 

into heaven’s gutters

zipper head,

stay where the rumbles occur 

keep your head high and

out of the trenches

your worn, dusty boots,

dug deep into the stirrups 

of a bipolar bull, 

thrashing one…

torpid another 

through the shiftiest gears,

our protagonist prevails

walk those high wire nights

of cappuccino hallelujah

scratch the blackboard dust

swing at that other head,

climbed into a chasm of dark

make every new 

adoption of nomenclature 

the donning of your sacred title 

a wreathe of laurel highlights 

lay upon your cornflower brow

a teeming of light in your sepia, 

seal eyes

pontificate of sarsaparilla calculus 

you observer of courses 

determiner of courses

forgetter of courses

let all courses be 

subject to your power

and sway

a kingdom which stretches past

all imagination or illumination

let them conduct themselves rightly,

for knowledge of your presence 

they query quick but quiet,

twirling stick in coffee and 

mad scraps of leaky pen napkin notes

and the subtle escapes of breath

from your pulpit

convert them, each 

and all 

to your church

of the considerate virgin

let your christ gnosis

hail the multitudes 

of bovine slitherers 

each now armed 

with impressive equations of 

equanimity, poise

because your scepter

hath provisioned the unwashed

with its manna

lay your miracle on the 

blister of impatience 

and lameness walks now,

with living memorial of 

lazarus sensibilities

oh but could we only attain

unto thee,

hail, most mighty

of the cousins

and czar of all the wanderers of 

the minotaur’s labyrinth 

we invite you to sit with us 

for tea and do tarry

tell us the tales of 

your turns

we are swollen now, 

swallowed and all 

fallen into silence, 

as we wait upon our excitable smiles

for your symposium

of next-ness

zipper head,

fair friend of the white and gray…

let it begin

we are ready


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

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Conjure Work

untitled

One may never truly know

Into what deep and secret part

A simple kindness, how it grows

Seed taking root in the heart

The depth of its vast potential

That seeming, but not, small event

How vital, immense and essential

When it sprouts, or where it went


Author’s Note:

I read a post on Facebook about a man who, as a child, was regularly, severely beaten by his mother.

He said that watching Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood showed him that he didn’t deserve that cruelty and he said “Mr. Rogers saved my life”. I couldn’t seem to locate the post again but it inspired this piece.

Be kind to each other. When people will not allow you to be kind, then at least be BIG and just walk away.

There’s a huge difference between choosing to avoid arguments/fights and being a coward. People need to understand the difference.

Some people think that every minor confrontation is a threat to their wellbeing or even just their ego. They think that if they walk away, it equals weakness.

The real weakness is lacking the self-confidence to simplify go around it and ignore it. If backed into a corner or loved ones are threatened, then fight; to the death, if necessary.

But if someone is just mouthing off, you can choose to just ignore it. Rather than it saying that you’re too afraid to deal with it, it says that you’re too BIG to deal with it.

And you never know… your complete refusal to be rattled or fearful or angry or to be drawn into a fight, it might just have a profound effect on the person who is challenging you.

They may change, they may not, doesn’t matter. What matters is that YOU will change.


Copyright 2020

Kevin Trent Boswell

(Magus)


The new book is out now, on Amazon: 

Chaos Comes Apart

Support the work at my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I cross-post the public works here. Patrons-only content is available, on my Patreon.

Patreon

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Conjure Work

antiverse

blogspot

Chaos Comes To Town

If perhaps you’re craving some escape, some vitamins of inspiration, to get you through the dull roar of viruses and technological hangups and fearful, dull talk of elections and recessions and limitless to do lists and the hundred things you want to step aside from, for just a few, delicious minutes…

You might enjoy dipping into the eccentric, electric pool of weirdly words that I now release. Images that speak through your eyes and feelings that peer into your ears, reassuring you that, no matter how strange today seems, it’s likely to only get stranger, my dears.

Doesn’t sound like reassurance to you? Then look further, deeper into the expanding woo of kaleidoscope and know, that something bitterly beautiful and magnificent always comes out of every bizarre, however far, at first, it went.

The only thing you can count on for certain is that everything changes and everything… including troubles… settles back into comfortable routine, given enough time for the cooking bubbles.

This is true, whether you struggle against the changes with every ounce of strength or relax, let current carry you, drifting along, entire length.

It all stirs up and then, peacefully settles… back… down… again… even if you do absolutely nothing about it. Try it, breathe it, if you care to doubt it.

So do the things you need to do,
To take care of your own and for care of you
But turn an ear and an eye for moments, few
For a little something to help you through

After all, how can a mind possibly deal with all the chaos, real, of the modern world, if not properly armed, to defend itself? Protect the gray in your skull against the beast, with the malleable mania of poetry priest, and fend off some of the stupid doldrums that are pounding, drooling, at the door.

All good secret agents know, that if facing torture interrogation, they should distract themselves from pain with elation, singing and making up silly stories in their head. This keeps the mind from snapping, a thing that’s certainly worse than dead.

A bit of poetry and music, all that Orpheus ever used and he traversed the depths of hell, emerging unscathed, unbruised. Put some of that magick dust into your pocket and go, it’s only left to trust and know, that everything else is silly, when set beside.

The big bad world is known to cower and lay right down as if dead, when once you threaten it proper, with an unpredictable pipe bomb of poetry, cocked and painted onto its cocky head.

My new book, Chaos Comes Apart, on Amazon:

https://smile.amazon.com/gp/r.html?C=2EIU1YSKTC6SW&K=WFT0JB3LJN3D&M=urn:rtn:msg:2020031021204095b1740d54b345db8aaec4cdad50p0na&R=1OIWENZKO66E0&T=C&U=https%3A%2F%2Fsmile.amazon.com%2Fdp%2FB085RN5WYV%3Fref_%3Dpe_3052080_397514860&H=WMGC3ZTDWE5L1ZBAOSWBAP3UGHEA&ref_=pe_3052080_397514860

107 pages, all original works. Most of these, probably 70% of them have never been published anywhere before.

They were written over just a handful of days, in a maelstrom of creative inspiration, given by the Goddess Venus, to whom the book is dedicated.

The themes are varied, mostly centering around the way our worlds expand and contract, sometimes pleasantly, other times frighteningly, sometimes with plenty of heads up and often, with our pants down.

Writing it helped me cope with some of my own, more challenging changes. I sincerely hope that reading it helps you adjust to yours.

Use the link here to find it, it is still settling in to Amazon’s search system, not quite coming up there, just yet. But this link takes you straight to the banks of the strange river, where your world might just be stretched out of and back into shape.

Enjoy.


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

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Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Conjure Work

antiverse

blogspot

conjunct neptune

The new book, Chaos Comes Apart is finished!

I’m exceedingly pleased with it and very proud to say that soon, a few days, it will be available for purchase on Amazon.

If you become a supporter of my Patreon page, with the next week, you’ll get a free .pdf copy of the book, regardless of which support tier you choose.

Chaos Comes Apart is a brand new work, most of which has NOT already been presented here. There are a couple of pieces that are already here but not many.

However, I did end up needing to expand it a little, from its original length of 75 pages, up to over a hundred. It was something about the guidelines for the spine size, for printing. Mercury retro hangups, as I see it. But that just means that you get even more for your money.

So, I also included in the final version, several older pieces, most of which had never been published, a few that had. So, it keeps with the theme of establishing patterns… and breaking them.

I’m also quite happy to announce that I have stumbled into the inspiration for the next book, as well!

The newest book is called “one pass by” and the theme is the interactions of the Moon, with each of the other Planets, as She cycles through the zodiac, each month.

You don’t need to know anything about astrology in order to enjoy the pieces, they’re standalone works of poetry. 

Each one spurs mental images , feelings and thoughts, without needing any training or understanding of the Planets, whatsoever.

That being said, if you do happen to know the basics of what the Planets represent to us, human type critters, you’ll be in on some of the jokes and insights, in the deeper layers of the pieces. It’s win/win, either way.

I present you now, one of the first pieces from the new series and I chose this one because I think, perhaps, you’ll find it amusing. It’s called “conjunct neptune”.

To whet your appetite for it, will explain that the Moon rules over feelings, emotions, the unconscious mind and how we go about resting, healing and nurturing, both ourselves and others.

Neptune is the God of the deep sea and rules everything to do with oceans. But He also rules illusions, delusions, intoxication, dreams and sleep. Knowing that, what you read next should make perfect sense.

Enjoy!


conjunct neptune

i think i’ve gotten

a little bit

of a nip

of a part, too thinky 

i need to boughten

some lit

of a tiny, or large, sip

of the drinky 

i think with a wink

to take the day off, is an excellent notion

and it’s severals of the excitings 

it will be to play about, lay

and noddedly to blink,

filling a trough, slipping into the potion

that’s more than enough writings 

for any, or one, or this, done, day


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

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Magus & The Plastic Infinity

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Morning Flies Far

Confounding the stupefied senses, the

syllabus, schedules of uninformed winner

you’ve reliably opened a festering wound,

spending lunch money upon trinkets of dinner

Empty the cup that was never quite full,

all the seats cold and audience, waiting 

there’s no more rind or gristle to eat

and no one left, to hear the debating

Slink down now into entertaining covers

and call it all finally done, for a life

wasted and somehow full of wonder,

no loud report, but fish round for a knife 

And instantly recall, in blissful drudgery,

some things can’t be cut by the cannon gun

whether eight more lines or only a million

some faces watch, from which you don’t run

Quiet cannibals, eating your sorrows

angels who lift any plagues from your land

mouths that sit, ready for morsels

morsels that come from only your hand

Sing now, with wretched rooster of morning

sing loud of his majesty and curse his name

take small solace in dimwitted knowledge…

no one is salvation and no one’s to blame


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

Patreon

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Conjure Work

antiverse

blogspot

untitled

dark spectators

file in from the corridor,

to witness death

scepter of violence

shines a smile

electric murder pictures

steal their breath


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Take a look at my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. Patrons-only content will be available, over there.

Magus72 on Patreon

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Conjure Work

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