Poetry – Page 8 – Kevin Trent Boswell

undefeated champion

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

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

a brave man
become myth

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

whose castle walls have not folded
and have not been compromised

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

in the current by Kevin Trent Boswell — Available on Amazon

Half

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

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

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

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

Don’t Read This Poem

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

quiet in the jungle

where have all the lions gone?
they used to roam these parts freely
out on the plains,
sometimes in the streets

but look all around,
and you won’t find any
in the trees
or under the sheets

the lions are hiding,
but they are not afraid,
even though the gazelle
swears otherwise

zebra asks the lion
if his confidence decayed
but the lion says,
“look deep in my eyes”

look closely, you’ll notice
there’s no appetite
for there’s no game here
worth the effort to devour

so, I no longer hunt
because the taste isn’t right
the meat is all bitter
and sour

free to do nothing

the freedom, complete;
each choosing to hate
with no chain
no consequence

with malice, replete,
but calling it fate
yet, each day, explain
a lack of competence

troll the open sea
with barbed steel, shiny
weighted down
with broken spanners

let no one just be
present them a heinie
and gift them a frown
through a lack of manners

catty, defensive,
all fault is father’s
none pass the test
all blindly deny it

and so, we are pensive
not one of us bothers,
thinking it best
to choose peace and quiet

nouveau design

light it up
let’s go ahead and do this
there’s nothing here
but the smell of gasoline

shatter the cup
of the empty kiss
there is only fear
and they’re all this mean

empty the coffers
and raid the till
don’t tend the fire
chase butterflies

laugh at the scoffers
go in for the kill
plot and conspire
for the everyone cries