writer – Page 7 – Kevin Trent Boswell

good dog

i need to run
pleeze set me loose
to run in the yard
i am a good dog
im not too bryte
you beat me but its ok
i was bad
i still love you
i takes cares of you bestest i can
i wrap my teefs around the bones
of any bad peoples trys to harm you
i rip the balls off anybody
tries to hurt you
ill live on one meal a week
its ok
i dont need no mental stima-lashuns
i dont know what dem things is
no persunal space
them are just words
i dont know what thems mean
anyway
i will lick your feet
you will be happy
i will be happy
i dont need no time
time dont ezist for me
ezept when you gos away
then i am a very sad
if i had hands i would
clean up my poop
so you wouldnt
have to stoop down and do it
becuz its beneath you
it must be beneath you
becuz you dont do it much
as littel as possibal
i wish i could do it for you
i dont need nuthin
i wantz to run in sercals for you
make you laff
beg fer your attenshunz
pleeze may i do tricks for you
lick your face
you snatch me up
scruff of my neck
i dont make no fuss
yor the boss
i deserve to be choked
you warned me last time
i already learn that lesson
wounds almost healed up now
its ok
it was my fault
i will not be bad no more
sorry i interupted
your favrit show
with my dumb stuff
my thirsties
my hungerz
me bein chokd on the chain
around my neck
i was just bein selfish
i sorry
i do better next time
pet me pleeze
i love you

From the book remission

Magus72 on Patreon – the music, poetry, and madness of 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

Photo by cottonbro

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

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

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

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

Magus72 on Patreon - music, poetry and madness

baby elephant

no one wants to talk about
the little, baby elephant
that wandered into the room
some decades ago

only now, the thing
has grown to full size
and everyone has to move away
from wherever the elephant chooses to go

still, no one mentions it
if you start to do so
you’re quickly told
to hush

it’s as if everyone believes
that discussing the thing
will somehow cause it
to rampage and crush

it’s a bit more than annoying
since it’s beginning to wreck
anything and everything
that’s in the house

lots of nervous smiling
and changing the subject
you’ll hear no mention of the elephant;
we’re all quiet as a mouse

everyone brightens right up
when you share a fun story
talk about a new movie
or tell a funny joke

but when you try to talk about
the elephant (or the weather)
it’s as if you were never there
and you never spoke

you’ll get a lot of
blank stares, shrugs
mostly, a lot of people
turning away

you’d think that since the beast
is destroying their home,
they might have an opinion,
a choice word or two, to say

but you would be wrong
for all is quiet
except for occasional whispers,
so brief

once the whispering stops,
all sigh and go back
to whatever they were doing
with a nervous relief

it’s more than just
a little bit puzzling
it’s far beyond being
just strange or odd

having everyone assure you
that we’re alone in the house
with a wink, a smile
and an anxious nod

this is all doubly,
if not triply or quadruply so…
or even to the power
of twenty-one

the elephant is angry,
bellowing loud, all the time
and people have been crushed;
more than just one

maybe it’s something about
how i was raised
or a skill that i never knew
that i needed before

something as big,
as destructive, imposing
as an elephant… to me…
is impossible to ignore

From the black book of horrifying, awful, terrible things that will keep you up late at night and drive you to drink too much, Out On The Killing Floor

Out On The Killing Floor, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell

355 pages, available now on Amazon

8 different titles available

Search for Kevin Trent Boswell poetry

Elephant photo by David Blackwell

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