tainted allegories and flawless renderings of the invisible
dry beans pour out of sacks onto tables of diamond and ivory
an abacus of emeralds, strung on strands of horsehair
a tiny pewter coin sits atop a scale of solid silver resting on a column of solid gold
pristine smudges of chocolate on acrylic peanut butter tapestries
buckets full of comets kicked over and showers of sparks falling on the floor
it’s enough to fill the silos of the universe top to bottom
but is it enough?
each individual grain of sand grates against another; all are dutifully counted
the hourglass is emptied of all its inexorable empires
excuses are forged from breath, and hammered into the sacred elixir of nothingness
there is no motion in this river’s torrent
the asphalt streets stole it all, sold it to capricious eels who swim in desperate candlelight
germinating helixes bristling thorn vines
funneling promising poisons into the infant mouths of ageless behemoths who rule small places
culmination is the beginning of the termination of endings and the siphoning off of all the intermittent middle bits, the ones that, as an afterthought, we tacked onto the ends in carefully coordinated haste
the endeavor, doomed from the outset
thank goodness we never embarked upon the journey and that we saw it through all the way to the end
we can scarcely contain ourselves from raving about what raucous ecstatic bliss it was, from the pistol start to the razored end
steal the serpent’s fangs
replace its venom with politesse and useless smalltalk
watch giddily as it pathetically gnaws and gums unproductively at its prey
we dare not speak of our elusive mysteries, not to the droll, sour, uninitiated brood, lest they discover our secret formula of beginning in the middle and ending at the front part of the second third half of each hind quarter, but only on Thursdays, except on leap years of an august May
the excitement would surely be too much for their frail constitutions, and over dead, they would drop down, into new incarnations of ceaseless wonder
and when, if so, would any of it ever cease?
take care, that none of this ever occurs, except for those precious few times that it unavoidably does not
dial back the wilting clock and try not to try again
I see the length of rope that hangs you I know how you are trapped from within There’s nothing for you that I can do Don’t expect you’ll come down again
The invisible shackle on your leg I feel its ponderous weight, as well The lock and key don’t belong to me And neither does your hell
There is no gag to mute your voice You chose to choose, to beg, to ask When asked about your final choice The words could not escape the mask
The floor is yours; of me, no trace Stepping away, discharging a sigh One heavy heart, one double-face For someone other than I
The Music, Poetry, and Madness of Kevin Trent Boswell— Most recent book release, available on Amazon —Magus72 on Patreon – the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell
emptiness strode in and took the place of fullness
redirection and symbolism flailed like untrained children, beating each other with soft, half-balled-up fists; fists that were incapable of accurate aim
there was little violence, many tears
still, it was less comical and more sad
the end result of all of this is nothing more than emptiness
I am not there, nor are you, nor is anything, nor is anyone else
it is all full of nothingness now
and anyone who can look at this mess and say that there’s anything good about it
that’s someone who needs to have all their teeth knocked out of their mouth
a little understated skywriting announcing the death of a loved one brightens up any picnic
a small, unobtrusive mountain of mayonnaise or tapioca pudding in their living room makes for a wonderful birthday surprise
a subtle moat of blood around your mansion is much classier than any ol’ stupid infinity pool
a modest bouquet of wildfire in your neighbor’s garden is a much more imaginative housewarming gift than a dull plate of homemade cookies
one will never present as rude or ostentatious, if only you remember not to scream obscenities in the movie theater… until after the opening credits
it’s not beyond the boundaries of good taste to have an assortment of gangrenous appendages on the bureau in the foyer instead of the more traditional candies and breath mints
the neighbors will appreciate a conservative display of heads on spikes; it’s a nice way to outline the borders of one’s property line without being too uncivilized about it
it’s hardly meretricious or inelegant to wear a fifty-foot royal purple robe, with the ears and eyes of one’s enemies stitched into the edges
it is, after all, a formal affair; one wouldn’t wear it to go out dancing, obviously
no one of good breeding will think you garish, just because you proclaimed yourself lord emperor of all unicorns
most will assume that it was merely the wine talking
if you bring your honey badger to that karaoke bar where all your coworkers meet for happy hour, you’ll have the envy of everyone at the office
it’s not too glitzy or braggadocio to wear lingerie and furs to church, not for the easter service, anyway
no one can accuse you of behaving bodaciously when you drag a couple of five-gallon containers of gasoline into the library, then proceed to dump them out, and light up a cigarette
after all, some of us like to enjoy a good book with a smoke
never too splashy to pass out sex toys and clean needles at the old folks’ home and the orphanage; it just wouldn’t be christmas without the spirit of giving
yes, it is “commanding” to slit one’s throat over the punch bowl
but everyone at the party knows you’re single, and you really do have to peacock just a smidge, if you’re ever going to attract that special someone
anyone who scolds you for pissing on a wedding cake just doesn’t know how to party
who cares if you didn’t hit every single note perfectly in that show tune?
before you started boldly livening up the place with song, it was so tense and somber in that operating room; those surgeons should be thanking you
it’s anything but too splashy to throw mardi gras beads at a funeral
everyone appreciates it when you spice things up with some colorful fun, and who doesn’t like free costume jewelry?
people are just too uptight these days
don’t take it personally; they simply do not understand your special brand of panache
Kevin Trent Boswell 