the others

dark nighttime
holds illusions,
all seeking
to guide you

into madness
and cringing 
under too-short,
coarse covers

trust your gut,
sweet child;
only light
is inside you

the same
may not always
be said
of the others

look 
before crossing
strange threshold, 
take care

there’s a light
that’s inside you
that light, 
true and bold

and then there’s
the everything 
else 
that’s out there

some lights
have gone out,
but haven’t yet
been told

devils 
can appear 
as angels,
so beware

they would
warm themselves
by the fires 
of your favors

they return 
your good deeds
with nothing
but despair

gratitude 
is absent;
all the usual, 
good flavors

are not nearly 
so much in them,
not so much 
as their needs

you’d help them
if you could
but you can’t…
nor can any

any goodness
you offer
is repaid with 
foul deeds

their love was
all strangled
by weeds, 
so many

caring is a
thing they’re
far too good
at feigning

but they’d not do 
so much
at all… 
were they able

to give you
assistance
they assist
by restraining

they’d have you 
assist by
being food 
on their table

in the dark place,
your kind rules 
won’t replace
good sense 

your eyes
fail to hear;
your sight goes 
deaf and dumb

you’re a good child
and a smart one;
always keep
strong defense

against the weaving
of webs 
that would have you
succumb

listen not, 
to easy tales 
of leisure
or love

be generous
be grateful,
but too much so,
one discovers

there’s humanity
in your heart
and it fits you,
like a glove

but the same
may not always
be said
of the others

listen closely
when light whispers
its soft,
gentle warning

go not lightly
where sternly 
it would guide you 
away

lean gently
upon your genteel 
manners
of good morning

shield carefully,
your beacon;
shining,
that it may

ward off those
hungry things, 
slinking in the 
twilight

committing
many crimes
to justify their
sadness

your large heart
would feed them
but the briefest time’s
highlight

your manners 
won’t give them
a single moment’s
gladness

a hunger,
baleful,
returns ever,
without pauses

more hot 
and more fierce,
much stronger
than before

opening you
slowly, 
hiding
true causes 

growing 
more bold
once you open
the door

in knowing
what nice, warm 
feelings 
spill out of you

on your noble, 
good faith
they’ll come again,
to dine

a stitch of
incredulous
keeps away 
death’s hue

after all is
said and done,
it almost always
saves nine

trim the wick
of your candle,
its bright light,
inspire

keep your powder 
all dry
and your lamp tinder 
lit

small steps
can lead you
into darkness, 
more dire

so, be careful
and wise
and don’t fall 
for it

odd misgivings
may cause you 
to shirk, 
with an attitude

even the
friendliest 
of those come-hither 
smiles

the first thing
to go, 
once they’re in,
is your mood

a lengthy 
and foul one
means you’re taken 
by their wiles

hold your memory
on tight
and never let them
touch

trust your
way-down-deep
when the good feeling 
lacks

harken 
which hands 
reach for you
too much

a bother 
in your belly
stops you dead 
in your tracks

your energy
will fail,
long before
their thirst

a visceral fear, 
in your 
tenderhearted,
warm guts

take the 
hooked bait
and you’ll soon see
their worst

suspicious
of yourself
and feeling like 
you’re nuts

when uneasy 
twinges
drive you back,
second-guessing

from a seemingly
obvious
act
of benevolence

they’re there
to warn you
of something bad, 
pressing

even daddy’s 
good breeding
can draw to you 
malevolence

some feed on daddy’s 
manners,
mother’s charm school 
propriety

it’s less commentary
on your love 
and more on their 
bleakness

in spite of all 
politeness
good intentions,
sobriety

resides in 
a maintenance
that guards against 
your own weakness

you are glowing 
with life, child;
remain balanced in 
your poises

stay out of 
the shadows
and out of 
the foolish

they’ll drag you
into dins of
the most horrible
noises

pulling you
from the light,
down into… 
the ghoulish

when your social
sensibilities
are suddenly
eviscerated

and it happens
without logical 
reasons,
not one

a thing which, 
on the surface,
seems
uncomplicated

do not question it, 
dear child;
instead… 
turn and run

when abdominal 
doubt
scorns the stranger’s 
handshaking

when something
inside of your 
knotted-up,
deep self

signals
a threat, with 
inexplicable
quaking

though they look
the good deal,
put them back
upon the shelf

never wander
too closely
to the edges
of the dark

shadows 
have been known to,
on occasion, 
jump through

to leap out,
swallow flickering, 
pretty things
that spark

the sparkling,
pretty lights 
in pretty things, 
like you

keep close
to the guard dogs
who growl
behind fierce eyes

when temptation
comes close,
offering you
strange favors

don’t lean in,
too closely
or listen 
to their lies

the keepers 
of darkness 
and light are 
close neighbors

and sometimes
those shaded
boundaries
fall open

since some always 
go there,
eager to 
steal keys

this may shock
or confuse you;
sensibilities,
all broken

but disappearance 
in the night 
happens with 
great ease

not all 
are so nice 
as you, child;
you must know

that some 
are the weight 
of a great, 
heavy stone

not all would 
have you live
or leave
or let go

but would gladly 
consume all,
even marrow 
of your bone

your mommy 
and daddy 
and friends want you 
to live

but monsters are
more common
than they bothered
to explain

taking each
precious drop 
of all the blood 
you could give

some quietly
feed on 
the wellbeing 
in your brain 

not keeping you in 
too good 
but rather too many, 
different shapes

creepers,
all slithering
down low,
out of light

until you break 
their spells 
and your spirit
escapes

well-hidden,
under coverings,
many put up 
no fight

but will linger
and drain you
until you rise up
and slay

some appear 
tricky,
as a lamp 
or a torch does

shielding you
from the bright,
good and sensible
day

storms,
wearing rainbows;
where color,
never was

any light that
splinters out
is artificially
made

those devils 
would lay you down
on razor-sharp 
pillows

dressing you
in black cloaks 
of drowning
in the shade

some wicks
take light easily, 
like dried-up, 
old willows

candles burning
through the night,
on first strike 
of one match

but some things 
only look like 
a flame 
or spark

but their sweet, 
sugar poisons, 
sharp, in the throat,
catch

you’d use up
all your matches
and still be
in the dark

they will never, ever
burn,
no matter how hard
you try

for they’re just 
not the good, 
useful, light
type of stuff

they will always 
break things
and take things
and lie

try to help them,
you’ll discover
that it’s never quite
enough

a mask-wearing 
face appears 
like innocence
and hope

lovely or kind
at first glance,
they may
look

but with a lot
of hard scrubbing
and a fair
amount of soap

you’ll discover
the ruse
and note all that
they took

i’m sorry to
have to say, child
not all is
as it seems

in fact, most things 
are not
at the bottom  
of this matter

in this world,
there are things
far worse than 
bad dreams

and the daylight
does not 
cause all of them 
to scatter

some things
are stubborn 
slow dying,
sowing trouble

and you’ll never
get back 
those things 
which were taken

it’s much better
when you’re older,
to pop 
your own bubble

childhood 
dies easier 
with your confidence,
unshaken

but die
it must do,
since it’s nothing 
but a blindness

the warm blanket
of sheltering,
by fathers
and mothers

the love you
possess, child
rewards kindness
with kindness

the same
may not always
be said
of the others


© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell

From the black book of fiendishly foul, frightening things, Out On The Killing Floor

Out On The Killing Floor, by Kevin Trent Boswell

Support

Magus72 on Patreon

More Machine

Built the Machine with your own, bloody hands
Said you programmed it for our plenitude
Carefully, you tightened all its bolts and bands
You saw to it that everything was screwed

Saddled your Machine when it was still small
Rode it everywhere, all over the place
Weened your Machine on blood, sweat and all
Devouring everything, leaving not a trace

First you drove it to every faraway nation
Consumed every animal and crop in the land
Millions of slaves, chained to your creation
Ground up beneath the wheels of its demand

You’re so proud of your Mean Machine
Cranked controls all the way up to MORE
So hard that you snapped off the knobs
Doesn’t know any limits, only knows war

You fed Machine what they built by hand
It grew meaner by the day, on all they could grow
It ate their homes and even ate their land
It even ate their memories, all that they know

When Machine had gobbled up every last thing
Picked clean all bones, in every foreign field
You rode back home, a messiah, a king
Fearing your hungry Machine, we all kneeled

You’re so proud of your Mean Machine
Cranked controls all the way up to MORE
So hard that you snapped off the knobs
Every day, it breaks its own high score

I guess you never heard of Dr. Frankenstein
Guess you knew Dr. Faust wasn’t real
So, you sold your soul and that was fine
But you threw all of ours into the deal

Machine just grows, never stops to ask why
You said we’d be saved by your shiny, little toy
Now, no one can stop it, no matter how we try
It’s programmed to eat, enslave and destroy

You saw Machine’s lust, heard its awful moan
You finally figured out that it would never stop
Beneath its wheels, you began throwing your own
Anything to save yourself and stay on top

Nothing left to eat, Machine looks all around
And sets its ravenous eyes upon you
Alone, it eats the Earth, with a grinding sound
Finally eating itself… only thing left to chew

You’re so proud of your Mean Machine
Cranked controls all the way up to MORE
Turning so hard, you snapped off the dials
Mean Machine breaks free to settle the score


©2021 Kevin Trent Boswell


From the black book of awful, horrible, despicable things, Out On The Killing Floor

Out On The Killing Floor, by Kevin Trent Boswell
Available on Amazon

Support

Many thanks to everyone who supports this work, over at Patreon. It wouldn’t be possible without them.

Magus72 on Patreon
Magus72 on Patreon

Down, Down

Into the unknown, faster and faster
Down, down, into places of doubt
To dark situations we cannot master
Into places no one warned us about

Coming, coming, that terrible sound
Noises we’ve never heard before
Unintelligible whispers all around
Moment by moment, more and more

We know not what comes, only that it is nigh
No more information do we possess
Just a powerful dread that soon we shall die
But when or how, we can only guess

This must be hell, nothing else can explain
The terror, the darkness, all the confusion
Rattling through the addled brain
It’s impossible to reach any other conclusion

Only hell holds such a perpetual wait
Leading only to more, frightened delay
We must be the damned, who repented too late
And here, in hell, we now must stay

And yet, wide awake, enough to discuss
What we don’t know and we’re able to curse
The fear of whatever makes its way toward us
If this isn’t hell, it’s something much worse


©2021 Kevin Trent Boswell 


This piece is part of the anthology of dark, horror poetry, called Out On The Killing Floor.

Out On The Killing Floor, by Kevin Trent Boswell
Available on Amazon

Photo by Louis Vizet

That One Time

Happy first day of Halloween. I put something dark and sweet into your pumpkin for you.

That One Time

Your belongings will not likely be stolen
In the times you watched them like a hawk
But rather, they up and run away
The one time that you forget about the lock

Your blessings will surely not come to an end
In those times in which you’re praying a lot
No, your blessing well will only run dry
Because of the one time you did not

You’re unlikely to be brutally murdered,
Your corpse buried beneath someone’s floor
On most days, that is…
Unless, of course, you forget to latch the door

©2021 Kevin Trent Boswell


Photo by Faruk Tokluoğlu


From the black book of unimaginably horrible things, Out On The Killing Floor

Out On The Killing Floor, by Kevin Trent Boswell
Available on Amazon

Support

Magus72 on Patreon
Magus72 on Patreon

Fear & Lies

Music video for “Fear & Lies”, a song from the album Flagship by Trent Boswell.


Lyrics:

Fear & Lies

Many are they
Who have whispered lies
Many are they
Who have made me despise
Many are the lies
And many who have heard
She knows that I could love her
If not for fear of that word

You know that I’ll try
Put a little sunlight in your eye
You know that I’ll try
Put a little shine in your smile
And you know that
You can come with me, anytime
But you know that I have fear
Of the fear and the lies

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell


The album, Flagship, is available at:

Flagship, by Trent Boswell - original avant-garde rock music

iTunes

Amazon

Spotify

Or get your own, signed copy of Flagship over at Conjure Work.


Trent Boswell – all guitar parts and vocals

Ed Kopp – bass guitar

Brett Waress – drums

Tommy Brothers – audio engineering

All words and music by Kevin Trent Boswell, as well as album production.


Show Your Support

You can help by hitting the thumbs up 👍 button, directly on the YouTube page.

Subscribe ✅ to get more of this kind of madness. Be sure to ring the little notifications bell 🔔 and select “all”.

Support more music, poetry and madness by Trent Boswell over at: Patreon.com/Magus72

Join the Magus72 Music Mailing List.


Special Thanks To

For all of the really cool footage, photography and visual special effects, special thanks goes to the following people:

cottonbro

KoolShooters

RODNAE Productions

MART PRODUCTION

Aghyad Najjar

Anastasia Shuraeva

Engin Akyurt

Free Creative Stuff

Life Of Pix

Caleb Oquendo

Arvind Balagopal

Annie Spratt

Tỷ Huỳnh

Anete Lusina

Victoria Borodinova

Ana Bregantin

Marcelo Chagas

Joe Curry

Andrea Piacquadio

Rodolfo Clix

Ali Pazani

Elina Krima

Andrew Neel

Also: C Technical, Ketut Subiyanto, Yan Krukov and Diva Plavalaguna


Latest Book Release

remission, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

remission


Other Titles Available

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next

Support more music, poetry and madness by Trent Boswell over at: Patreon.com/Magus72

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

More Information

YouTube music channel

Instagram

Tumblr

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Magus Music Facebook page

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Blogger

Twitter

Conjure Sound

Reverb Nation

antiverse

And He Wept

Jesus wept
And I know why
Impossible, the weight
Of this world, to deny

Jesus wept
And I understand it
When so few give love
And so many demand it

Jesus wept
More than he bled
Meaning of the words,
Right over the head

Jesus wept
With heavy heart, breaking
So little effort, to give
All lost, in the taking

Jesus wept
In solemn recognition
Of hatred, beating love
Into submission

Jesus wept
And I do, too
This could’ve been heaven
For me and for you

Jesus wept
Cried harder than I
He knew the potential
We possess and deny

© 2021 Kevin Trent Boswell

Main Photo by @seb

Latest Book Release

remission, poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell
remission, by Kevin Trent Boswell

remission


Other Titles Available

The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

Dark Matter

on the page

Liber Ex Liberi

Chaos Comes Apart

in the current

Next


Support more music, poetry and madness by Trent Boswell over at: Patreon.com/Magus72

More Information

YouTube music channel 

Instagram

Tumblr

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

the music album, Flagship

Magus Music Facebook page 

Music Streaming, Amazon 

Music Streaming, Apple Music 

Music Streaming, Spotify

SoundCloud

Blogger

Twitter

Conjure Sound

Reverb Nation 

antiverse