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
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
daddy magnet fire bomb
chaser, a Molotov cocktail
excellent man angler fish
knows how to ride the rail
a suspicious looking package
electronically delivered
a string of neural signals
warning one, it shivered
doesn’t matter it’s nonsensical
for sense, it does not matter
the sound of marbles rolling around
a set of teeth that chatter
a spike of dopamine in the brain
nothing else exists at all
adrenaline rush of pure chaos
and total lack of protocol
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
tiny tyrant, vindictive and petty
useful in the most useless of ways
omniscient, omnipotent, powerless, dumb
toy compass points toward hateful malaise
closed off from everyone, open to all of it
help is the hunger to acquire, to accrue
never learned to do the dance of anything
all those skills are for someone else to do
cocked, sawed-off, double-barrel rage
all of us failed to know what was hidden
couldn’t guess the number of jelly beans
a boobytrapped jar labeled “forbidden”
you should’ve known, even though i don’t
get out of my head, give me some space
i’m so lonely, why don’t you love me?
but i always take time to put you in place
trapped in the mirror, the empty reflection
ripples don’t break the Narcissus spell
no wrinkles in the alarm clock’s sleep
a ladder of bones to a personal hell
an army of me, but none of those copies
are this good, although all are the same
and i know how you love my hurdles when
you say how much you hate this game
one pill or the other; it’s hardly the issue
this one is poison, no name on the jar
many will partake, thinking it medicine
but all will collapse, and none will get far
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
It is a waking nightmare,
This modern world
Obsessed with self,
All greed and lust
A dream, inescapable,
The curse was hurled;
A black flower bloomed,
Unwise, unjust
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
I tasted your harvest
Held you in the fall
I heard the strange changes
Saw no one at all
The tea leaves aren’t telling
The wax drips no words
The chords are atonal;
They’re not stacked in thirds
Hey, hey, hey
Play in the hay day
Swallow the bruises
The pain goes away
Hey, hey, hey
Today is a school day;
Just as tomorrow,
And every other day, too
Wheels will slow down,
And hammers go fall
The chains all fall off
There’s no reason to call
A mouth slams shut
For lack of a solver
Birdcage flies open
A willful revolver
Hey, hey, hey
Make rain on a sun day
All the swallows got bruises
A rose fades away
Hey, hey, hey
Today is a school day;
Just as tomorrow,
And every other day, too
I screamed at the empty
You clawed at the door
We kindled a fire
And burned out the floor
Pleading with empty
We gnawed a bit more
We ate the inferno
Lost sight of the score
There’s always more learning
What was already known
Lessons learned again
Are again to be shown
©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell
Sometimes, you know the real reason,
But you still can’t be the one to say it
You know well why they did the thing,
But it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all
It must come from within, in its season
On some level, they know but won’t admit
The canary’s mouth closed; it will not sing
And Van Gogh’s ear refuses the call
By themselves, they’ll have to figure it out
No matter how obvious it may be to you
If you spell it all out, simple and plain
They’ll only reject it as a selfish ploy
Some fall deep into the well of doubt,
Won’t do what the heart most wants to do
They’ll forge on ahead, no matter the pain
Things that love, and are loved, destroy
Avert the eyes of the face in the mirror,
Admitting mistakes, the need to change,
They’ll rake themselves over hot coals
To keep everyone happy, all but the self
Unless it cuts deep, so they feel it clearer
Regardless of how unnecessarily strange
They’ll stick to expired, worn-out goals
Try not to look at the dreams on the shelf
You want so badly to explain it in detail
You know their truth even better than they
If they’d only admit it, they’d be satisfied
You want to scream, draw them a diagram
If you say it for them, your intentions fail
Suspicious of the things you do and say
Fear, manipulations; you must have lied
Some play the willing sacrificial lamb
It’s easier to suffer in miserable silence
Than admit what it is they want the most
Swallow feelings, cause no one displeasure
Love is expensive; it’s cheaper to scream
And their beautiful vision dies in violence
While they suffer daily as drudgery’s host
Twist in boredom’s unhappy full measure
Hold the anchor and let go of the dream
©2024 Kevin Trent Boswell
Kevin Trent Boswell 