Poem – Page 18 – Kevin Trent Boswell

Stand Trial

I do not deserve the swift, easy dying
I should go out suffering, cursing, weeping
No gentle slip into long, peaceful sleeping

I deserve harshness, for there is no denying
I’ve done terrible things, things all too horrid
Covetous, vengeful, hateful, and torrid

I’d get no comforts from friends or family
A slow, painful demise; lots of time to think
It’s too good for me, the “gone in a blink”

For my legacy is ugly, a shameful homily
A sad sack of blood and bones; all gone bad
A sour brain on a stick, and a soul, quite mad

I got in a little goodness, here and there
But these brief occasions, they came and went
In truth, half of them were by accident

I failed to be of use, and even less, to care
And, squeezing in the rare, unselfish act
Does not grant one release from a devil’s pact

Less honorable by the day, I should’ve quit
And yet, I’ve persisted, doing more and more
With sins innumerable; I cannot keep score

And yet, upon pondering, I must admit
As bad as I am, I can’t conceive; it’s true
What would be a fair and just fate for you

While I do not go in for all that silly stuff
Political yarns of heaven, hell, and purgatory
The guilt-tripping duress of bedtime story

Absolutes, ethics, and morals… all but a bluff
Inventions for feeling better about ourselves
But our deeds will not go back on the shelves

We could keep debating until all cows return
Where, who, or what made our foul kingdom
Whether it’s intelligent, impelled, or random

Bickering fictions; eternal bliss, or to burn
Regardless, one point is impossible to miss
And, try as we might, there’s no escaping this

Wherever we go, from wherever we came
We’re here while we’re here; as all the others
Failure is in failing our sisters and brothers

Allowing them to suffer, passing the blame
Holier-than-thou, and treating them as less;
The only real sin we’d ever need to confess

Fail or succeed, by any standard you choose
Any yardstick or metric of money or power
Cruelty and apathy are a waste of the hour

A precious moment, we soon enough lose
I should die kicking and screaming, it’s true
If I’m honest about things that I failed to do

A thousand missed kindnesses; this, I know
Things I could’ve done to ease pain or fear
Looking out for myself, covering my rear

I know what I deserve, and how I should go
I can’t say for certain if you’re bad or good
If you lift up others, or do as you should

Most of us will admit, once, we were wrong
Careful to leave out the details of those cases
The omission shows guilt, egg on our faces

We try to appear sweet, covering our tracks
But, I know what I’ve done, I cannot get away
From knowledge of things I did do, and say

Slander, both overt and behind people’s backs
All the times I chose, the other way to look
The times I was a liar, a scoundrel, a crook

Criminally negligent, someone should stop us
More awful by the hour, delusion and fantasy
Thinking self noble, in all of self’s infancy

I should suffer, if there’s a god, or any justice
I’ve got it coming; the blade shouldn’t swerve
But, I’ve still no idea about what you deserve

Support this work on Patreon:

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

Coming Soon

A new album from Trent Boswell, Area 25

Area 25 - music by Trent Boswell — Coming Soon – **Area 25** -new music from Trent Boswell

Cover art by the elusive Mr. Dorian Strange.

Area 25 – a witch’s brew; 12 original pieces of rock and roll, hard rock, and funk. It’s a psychedelic concoction of madness, lifted from the purse of Venus, pilfered from the wallet of Apollo, and heisted from Jupiter’s garage.

It will be available on all the major streaming services, like Apple Music, Deezer, Amazon Music, Spotify, YouTube Music, and many more.

A preview from Area 25

Americans Don’t Play Chess

Americans don’t play enough chess
It’s the reason we’re in this political mess
The Right has carefully studied for years
Constitutional weaknesses, racist fears

They’ve put in long hours, learning the game
Motivating their base, pointing the blame
Spinning problems as the fault of their foes
Scuttling each bill that would end those woes

Like Morphy, Alekhine, Karpov, Nimzowitsch
Dangling carrots; a cheap bait-and-switch
A Fischer sacrifice; playing the long-game
The board no longer looks quite the same

Their rooks and bishops, now in key places
We watch with horror, mud on our faces
We slept through opening, developing play
Their knights are posted; it seems they’ll stay

Kiss of Death at the Opera, then it’s too late
Anastasia smiles, threatens Legal’s mate
A double-bishop pin, a dovetail, strategic
Is needed, or our king will be quadriplegic

Having good pawn structure is fundamental
And theirs is proving to be quite instrumental
Mate is possible with any piece on the board
Except the other king, who may be ignored

Unless, that is, he works his way up the file
Blocking the enemy king’s movement, while
The officers sweep in to deliver last blows
A game is often over before the loser knows

We’d better learn the game, or we’ll be through
It’s less checkmate, more authoritarian coup
A king can be smothered by his own pieces
It only takes a few with deceptive caprices

If the game may be saved, our wits must return
Or “How to lose everything” is all we will learn
We scoffed at haughty, four-dimensional claims
But, with distractions, they hit all their true aims

We’re playing an opponent who is happy to win
By legal means, if possible; they’ll nod and grin
Beaten fairly, he gives no handshake reward
But balls up his fists, and knocks over the board

The only way to beat a cheating, spoiled brat
Is to win fairly, but be ready to pick up a bat
For this one believes they must win at all cost
And will not admit or accept that they lost

The one sitting on the other side of this table
Is wily, unscrupulous; cheats when he’s able
Demanding to rewrite how the game is played
Promoting a pawn, says “A new king is made!”

Yes, win… but don’t be surprised if the liar
Pulls a gun or a knife, upon losing their desire
We all must fight hard to get out of this mess
We must become better at political chess

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Most

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

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

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

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

New Music Album on June 8th

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

Published Works

The poetry and music of Kevin Trent Boswell

Support This Work on Patreon

Special Offer

I’m offering a special package deal. Below, you’ll find a list of all my poetry titles, as well as my album Flagship. For just $72, I’ll send you a copy of one of each of the poetry books AND a copy of the Flagship CD.

That’s $39.21 off the cover price. Better still, this flat price includes FREE S&H.

The free shipping offer applies only as long as it’s in the continental U.S. If you want international shipping, you can contact me privately so that I can calculate a specific S&H price for you.

Time for Nothing $8.88

Chaos Comes Apart $7.77

on the page – poems for artists, writers, and other hooligans $12.50

Liber ex Liberi – the Book of Children $7.77

in the current $8.44

Dark Matter – Poems of Horror and Depravity $9.99

remission $12.72

Next $15.72

Out on the Killing Floor $18.42

Flagship CD $9.00

Total: $111.21

How To Take Advantage of the Deal

To get this deal, send $72 to

this PayPal link

Please make sure your shipping address is up to date in your PayPal account.

If you would like any of them signed, let me know in the notes with your purchase.

Time for Nothing, by Kevin Trent Boswell — The newest poetry title, Time for Nothing- Poetry, Prose, and Song Lyrics

All Around

“All Around” – music by Trent Boswell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lyrics available in print:

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

Support This Work on Patreon

Dirt

“Dirt” from Out on the Killing Floor

“Dirt” – prose from Out on the Killing Floor by Kevin Trent Boswell

This piece of prose is from a book of horror poetry. What is horror poetry? Imagine that Stephen King wrote poetry and prose instead of novels and short stories.

This particular piece is about the climate crisis. It’s an imaginary interview with an American farmer in the not so distant future, a dystopian vision of the runaway effects of climate change.

The book is available here:

Out on the Killing Floor

– Bleak, dark, dismal apocalyptic poetry of the most depressing possible variety

– The end of all life on Earth & other children’s stories