poets – Page 14 – Kevin Trent Boswell

pennyworth

dime store shopaholic
purpose is dying
thousands more reliable
than the single
or the none

little tick-tock remains
to garner the gains
gouge the special killing
double barrel
price gun

one for all
and everything event
pressure, systolic
tying stakes to the ground
taping nails into place

boatloads of saving
coupons for barrels
of monkey fish laurels
trips and great prizes
sale signs and wonders
red tags of grace

cometh thee first
oh ye saved, special items
vip members, apostolic
way buffed and paved
golden, hyperbolic
and warned, were they
who heeded not, the news

crumbling, the chances
to make quick advances
power grab rostrum
no sleeping possum
who, missing bargain bus,
sits at home
with the blues

come antsy and itching
tense and hot twitching
lucky thunder ball ticket
lightning begged
from the sky

iron, hot and free lunch
with cookies and punch
waking neighbors from naps
pay full price
for scraps
no savings for me?
oh, dear lord, why not i?

the thrifty and clever
with leverage on the lever
get a long life extended
warranty protection
of dustcover case

it’s so sweet and juicy
tried to tell sister lucy
that hot tongue, bickering
in flickering fashion
but unlike lucy, whose lips
drip skeptical passion
it’s only a big, fat deal
that you’re dickering
and sizable discounts
are what you embrace

all top-shelf stuff
proof, more than enough
taste it and see
jump, shout, and sing
promise satisfaction
join in on our action
a product, superior
above any other

get in the door
while there’s going
left to get
and still some
to be got
don’t burn with regret
wishing you’d bought
shiny, fresh feeling
bargains, ground to ceiling
and truthfully,
there will never
ever be another

From the book remission

remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell — *remission*, by Kevin Trent Boswell

Photo by cottonbro

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

But I Am Not There

I see the blood that spills in the streets
Can practically smell the gunpowder air
Tasting the ashes, bitter on my tongue
I hear the explosions, but I am not there

I cannot claim to fathom their fear
Or say that I know the depth of their dread
I’ve not had to bear the loss of loved ones
Nor have I the need to step over the dead

I live far away from the noise of the horror
I close my eyes with no fear of sleeping
No aid raid sirens awaken me rudely
I read in peace, tea silently steeping

Pictures and articles pour in daily
Videos making me a bit more aware
I know it’s happening; I know that it’s real
But the sadness I feel does not compare

I hear children crying, and nothing stops it
I see the confusion and pain in their eyes
I smell the smoke and festering wounds
But the foulest odor is the stench of lies

A well-heeled madman’s misinformation
Distorted guile drips from his tongue
Slanderous justifications for the slaughter
Of unknown thousands, old and young

But my food is hot; my belly is full
I don’t hide underground or need to run
There are no tanks parked out on my lawn
My hands are empty; they hold no gun

I don’t have a gas mask close at all times
My roads are clear, my home is intact
The power to stop the storm is not mine
It rages on, and the sky is blacked

I cannot order the attack to halt
And to send in support is not my decision
I don’t determine the fate of anyone else
I need not defend my political vision

No sons or daughters go off to fight
Because of anything that I say or do
But war will not cease of its own accord
No moving of money makes it less true

I can say kind things and show my support
The only thing worse is not even to care
The words I say, meaningless, useless
It’s easy for me, for I am not there

If I believed it, I’d say, “Wait. Do nothing;
Or else he may set the whole world afire.”
I could say I believe to hold back is better
But were I to say it, I would be a liar

Powerless, unable to stop a mass murder
Intervention may mean the death of us all
So, we answer the cry for help by saying,
“We pray for you and hope you don’t fall.”

To cover our fears of atomic destruction
Supportive words hang on digital display
Perhaps if we allow the bully his toy
He’ll go no further after getting his way

If only it were true that a taste of victory
Made conquerors quit; one land controlled
The wanton wishes of children who know
Nothing of madmen, bloodthirsty, bold

I cannot assist in their hour of darkness
Or insist that others answer the pleading
My heart hurts for those brave defenders
But my pain is painless; I am not bleeding

I cannot say “Fight,” nor can I say “Wait.”
It’s not my problem or burden to bear
After all, it’s easy to speak in abstractions
It’s easy for me because I am not there

Photo by Алесь Усцінаў

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

my friends

good morning, all you beautiful people
you lovely, angelic folks i call friend
i want you to know that i’m thinking of you
though fiery days, together, do blend

whirling quick, down the drain of time
not seeing your faces, hearing your voices
distance and schedules demand this of us
circumstance offering no other choices

i want to take this brief opportunity
to say that you still mean a great deal to me
i’d rather that we were conversing, laughing
than where and how we happen to be

more often now, do i have these thoughts
since all appears to be coming apart
the wretched state of things all around us…
i think of you, how i miss your heart

each moment is truly a blessing, unique
neither taken for granted nor guaranteed
i’d pray for you to have happiness, joy
if i thought it helpful to request or plead

but alas, our time on the big, blue marble
ephemeral, flickering, fleeting, concise
disappears quickly, precious little warning
like a glass of sunsets, smiles and ice

tumbler, carelessly knocked from our hands
by a stupid stranger, passing by in a roar
an ignorant ogre with a love of wealth
a disdain of beauty and a love for war

beastly creatures, not one, but many
loving too much, to climb and to fall
punching holes in our collective boat
though surely it sinks and dooms us all

the cup of this world, spills over with promise
wonders of nature, so much opportunity
carelessly ruined by the madness of kings
who with stolen gold, kill with impunity

we, being lovers of kindness and good
seeing their greed, the destruction it brings
it hurts our hearts, we sigh and conclude
“i guess that we just can’t have nice things”

as we watch them ripping it all into pieces
everything beautiful, too soon to die
i want you to know how much i love you
i’d hate if the chance were to slip idly by

i want to tell you that you’re all in my heart
and in my thoughts, your memories glow
i’d not forgive myself if i wasted
the opportunity to let each of you know

just over the horizon, a banshee wails
as we near the welkin, do smile, once more
i’ll be thinking of you, as we take that step
through the long, strange and endless door

Photo by Mo

The poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell — Eight poetry titles, available on Amazon

When I Think About Tomorrow

When I think about tomorrow
I only see one thing
A day laden with the sorrow
And the trouble it will bring

My heart is full of fear
My mind is full of dread
My hands are full of jelly
My feet are full of lead

The day coming after this one
Is one I’d gladly do without
But it’s ridiculous to run
And it’s of no use to shout

On the head of this stickpin
No promised angels dance
Much to my chagrin
Just the devil’s half-a-chance

He said tomorrow’s fruit is rotten
To enjoy it is to fake it
It’s the only offer that I’ve gotten
So, I guess I’ll have to take it

Kevin Trent Boswell on Instagram

Main photo by Gabriel Hohol

how dare i

how dare i take you
by lascivious force
boss you around
play the pirate, tie you up
treat you roughly
as my possession
force upon you my will
make you drink from my cup

for then,
you would not
be free
to do as you like
i’d be a curse for you to endure
and whatever then
would you do?

how dare i worship you
as a goddess, divinity’s source
respect your opinions
hear your voice
let you run free
give you space and respect
yield to your whims
whatever your choice

for then,
you would not
be attracted to me
no desire, masculine, primal passion
no naughty novelties, obscene, obscure
and whatever then
would you do?

how dare i
stay the middle course
walk the fine line
weigh situations, each
independent, with thoughtful care
read moods, assess
accordingly to act
whether i should listen or teach

for then,
tepid, neither cold nor hot
is how you’d find me
indecisive, wavering
weak and spineless, insecure
and whatever then
would you do?

©️2022 Kevin Trent Boswell

Magus72 on Patreon - Music, Poetry and Madness — Magus72 on Patreon – Music, Poetry and Madness

Too

You’re too young

You’re too old

You’re too timid

You’re too bold

You’re too forgiving

You’re always holding grudges

You’re too straightforward

You’re all winks and nudges

You’re too kinky

You’re such a prude

You’re too nice

You’re terribly rude

You’re too poor

You’re way too rich

You’re too loyal

You’re a backstabbing bitch

You’re too punk

You’re too straight

You’re too early

You’re far too late

You’re too logical

You’re too black and white

You’re too much of a pacifist

You always pick a fight

You’re not broad enough

You’re too eclectic

You’re speed is too slow

You’re pace is too hectic

You’re the same, old, usual

You’re too avant-garde

You’re too soft

You’re just too hard

You’re too boring

You’re too, too much

You’re always gone

You’re here way too much

You’re too stupid

You’re a little too smart

You’re too far ahead

You’re too close to the start

You’re too involved

You’re too apathetic

You’re too fat

You’re too athletic

You rhyme too much

You’re too free-verse

You’re too offensive

You’re afraid to curse

You’re too angry

You’re too sad

You’re too worried

Why are you so glad?

You’re too sensitive

You’re too thick-skin

You’re too quick to finish

You’re too slow to begin

You’re too far gone

You’re too stable

You bite off too much

You don’t give all you’re able

You’re too frigid

You’re too horny

You’re too grabby and needy

You’re too distant and thorny

You’re too quiet

You’re too proud

You’re too humble

You’re too loud

You’re too unpredictable

You’re too strange

You’re too normal

You’re too subject to change

You’re too ambitious

You’re too restrained

You’re too big-boned

You’re too big-brained

You’re too reserved

You’re too outgoing

You second-guess too much

You think you’re all-knowing

You’re too brazen

You’re too fearful

You’re too cold and harsh

You’re too sentimental, tearful

You’re too specific

You’re too cryptic

You’re too Pollyanna

You’re too apocalyptic

You’re too masculine

You’re too effeminate

You’re too tight-assed

You’re too indiscriminate

You’re too hands-off

You’re too political

You don’t tend to details

You’re too analytical

You’re just way too picky

You always say “whatever”

You’re not very bright

You’re think you’re so clever

You’re too pasty

You’re too tan

You’re too girlie

You’re too manly-man

You’re too dense

You notice too much

You never ask for help

You always need a crutch

You’re too red

You’re too blue

You’re too much of everything

You’re way too much you