judgement – Kevin Trent Boswell

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

I.
We could have changed
In so many, small ways
So much for which
There was to aspire

II.
Was a time we had options
Moves and plays
To climb out of the hole
Find someplace higher

III.
Having opened the door
The beast enters and slays
Its hunger, endless
Its destruction, entire

IV.
No plans to retreat
Once inside, it stays
It does not sleep
Or pause or tire

V.
Opting out of truth
Believing false displays
The twisted words
Of talented liar

VI.
Fear of speaking out
Mute with delays
With webs of deceit
Would truth, retire

VII.
Insecure children
In desperate need of praise
And any fleeting comforts
They might acquire

VIII.
Fearful of reproach
The disapproving gaze
In secret would
Against all, conspire

VIIII.
The world, itself
Now glances sideways
Its displeasure hot
Worse than anything prior

X.
Events blunting senses
Into stumbling daze
Mouth of inferno
Funeral pyre

XI.
Prophecy unfolds
However one prays
Indulgence to Pope
Or penance of friar

XII.
Entrusted with a gift
Foolish steward betrays
Comprehending not
The quantifier

XIII.
Slave of Mammon sits
Rolls over, obeys
Right up to bitter end
Chasing after desire

XIV.
A drunk compass, slurring
Off course, it strays
Into gutter, wearing black
Mourning attire

XV.
Reaping what we’ve sown
On death’s harvest, to graze
Famine and plague
The new supplier

XVI.
Trumpets sounding
They startle, amaze
Broken seals in hands
Of angelic choir

XVII.
Choking in the heat
Sun’s blistering rays
Unseen, exponential
A mad multiplier

XVIII.
A scroll unrolling
The hell hound bays
Revelation in the ear
Of the testifier

XVIIII.
Heels by its master
Whose scale, justice weighs
The same who brought waters
As Earth’s purifier

XX.
For perjury and murder
The wages it pays
Tribulations certain
And soon to transpire

XXI.
Removed from God’s sight
At the end of days
The second judgement
Is a judgement of fire

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

Warning: Take only as prescribed. Keep out of reach from children, pets, pregnant women and anyone who still has any hope for the future. May cause sleeplessness, fatigue, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts or visions of impending doom. Some readers may experience weight… not weight gain, just a heavy weight of existential dread. User assumes all risk and releases the author from any and all legal recourse. This book is not approved by the FDA or anyone else who enjoys being happy. May be illegal in your area.

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

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End of Days

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