I Know It’s Frustrating

I know you’re angry; I don’t blame you
It feels like American freedom is spent
But please try to remember that it’s illegal
To talk about killing the president

I know it’s hard watching these racists;
To a coward, sadist, false king, they bent
But it’s still a crime to make idle threats
About murdering the stupid president

I don’t ever want you to get locked up
So, don’t do something you’ll later lament
Don’t even jokingly say to someone
That you’re planning to kill the president

Seriously, don’t do it. No, really… don’t.


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell 

This Should Do Well

This poem fits neatly
Inside an Instagram panel

It isn’t deep, although it
Feigns depth and wisdom

It says you’re not an ignorant,
Entitled, hateful little shit

It pretends that you are perfect
Just the way you are

This poem will likely
Be very popular


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell 

Fire God

If they decide that you’re made of fire,
Pristine, glorious, and bright
Then they will insist that you burn
So that you may offer them light

If they believe that you are perfect,
And with you, they cannot compete,
They’ll make you a god, a dying one
To warm themselves by your heat

If you represent in their minds
Something they could never become,
They will set you ablaze in the night;
To the flames, watch you succumb


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell 

Goddess

Yes, my dear,
You’re exactly like God

You’re exactly like God
In the following way

You demand to be worshipped,
With no return on investment

And you angrily smite those
Who don’t bow and pray

Yes, my dear,
You’re just like the Divine

You’re like the Divine,
And the way I can tell

Is that I walked away
From it, and from you

And having done so,
I’m no longer in hell


©2025 Kevin Trent Boswell