philosophy – Kevin Trent Boswell

Stand Trial

I do not deserve the swift, easy dying
I should go out suffering, cursing, weeping
No gentle slip into long, peaceful sleeping

I deserve harshness, for there is no denying
I’ve done terrible things, things all too horrid
Covetous, vengeful, hateful, and torrid

I’d get no comforts from friends or family
A slow, painful demise; lots of time to think
It’s too good for me, the “gone in a blink”

For my legacy is ugly, a shameful homily
A sad sack of blood and bones; all gone bad
A sour brain on a stick, and a soul, quite mad

I got in a little goodness, here and there
But these brief occasions, they came and went
In truth, half of them were by accident

I failed to be of use, and even less, to care
And, squeezing in the rare, unselfish act
Does not grant one release from a devil’s pact

Less honorable by the day, I should’ve quit
And yet, I’ve persisted, doing more and more
With sins innumerable; I cannot keep score

And yet, upon pondering, I must admit
As bad as I am, I can’t conceive; it’s true
What would be a fair and just fate for you

While I do not go in for all that silly stuff
Political yarns of heaven, hell, and purgatory
The guilt-tripping duress of bedtime story

Absolutes, ethics, and morals… all but a bluff
Inventions for feeling better about ourselves
But our deeds will not go back on the shelves

We could keep debating until all cows return
Where, who, or what made our foul kingdom
Whether it’s intelligent, impelled, or random

Bickering fictions; eternal bliss, or to burn
Regardless, one point is impossible to miss
And, try as we might, there’s no escaping this

Wherever we go, from wherever we came
We’re here while we’re here; as all the others
Failure is in failing our sisters and brothers

Allowing them to suffer, passing the blame
Holier-than-thou, and treating them as less;
The only real sin we’d ever need to confess

Fail or succeed, by any standard you choose
Any yardstick or metric of money or power
Cruelty and apathy are a waste of the hour

A precious moment, we soon enough lose
I should die kicking and screaming, it’s true
If I’m honest about things that I failed to do

A thousand missed kindnesses; this, I know
Things I could’ve done to ease pain or fear
Looking out for myself, covering my rear

I know what I deserve, and how I should go
I can’t say for certain if you’re bad or good
If you lift up others, or do as you should

Most of us will admit, once, we were wrong
Careful to leave out the details of those cases
The omission shows guilt, egg on our faces

We try to appear sweet, covering our tracks
But, I know what I’ve done, I cannot get away
From knowledge of things I did do, and say

Slander, both overt and behind people’s backs
All the times I chose, the other way to look
The times I was a liar, a scoundrel, a crook

Criminally negligent, someone should stop us
More awful by the hour, delusion and fantasy
Thinking self noble, in all of self’s infancy

I should suffer, if there’s a god, or any justice
I’ve got it coming; the blade shouldn’t swerve
But, I’ve still no idea about what you deserve

Support this work on Patreon:

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

Coming Soon

A new album from Trent Boswell, Area 25

Area 25 - music by Trent Boswell — Coming Soon – **Area 25** -new music from Trent Boswell

Cover art by the elusive Mr. Dorian Strange.

Area 25 – a witch’s brew; 12 original pieces of rock and roll, hard rock, and funk. It’s a psychedelic concoction of madness, lifted from the purse of Venus, pilfered from the wallet of Apollo, and heisted from Jupiter’s garage.

It will be available on all the major streaming services, like Apple Music, Deezer, Amazon Music, Spotify, YouTube Music, and many more.

A preview from Area 25

Most

Most stories don’t have happy endings
The brutal truth is that most do not
For each hero who makes it home,
In unknown ditches, a hundred more rot

For every song about some brave champion,
There are endless graves without any bones
For there was no body which they could bury
Only lost names engraved on stones

We must admit if we’re honest about it,
Eventually, Death claims them all
Those who we celebrate after a battle
And those who on the battlefield fall

Those who seem to be safe back at home
Are also short candles in a night so late
None escape the long-armed grasp,
Of those pitiless stranglers, time and fate

New Music Album on June 8th

Something in the Air – an album of 10 original songs from Trent Boswell, available on June 8th, 2022 at most major music streaming services like Amazon Music, Spotify, iTunes, etc.

Published Works

The poetry and music of Kevin Trent Boswell

Support This Work on Patreon

Tact

This is another song that I wrote in my early twenties but it’s only now getting a proper recording.

Magus – Tact

Back Story

I played this tune with various bands over the years but we never got a usable recording, because they were usually done in dive bars with poor acoustics. There was no separation of the instruments, only the chaotic din of drunken idiots in the background.

I do still have the original, cassette demo that I recorded on a reel to reel tape machine. I no longer have that machine [insert sadness and woe, here] but I have the recording. It’s ok but it’s just guitar and vocals and covered in that old school, analog tape hiss.

This is a full treatment, with rhythm guitar, lead guitar, vocals, bass, all of which I’m doing. The lead guitar part is a first take improvisation. I’ve never played lead over this song before, because I was always busy playing the rhythm and singing the lead part.

Actually, I’d never even thought about what I’d want the lead guitar part to sound like, because keeping a band together was trouble enough to keep my mind thoroughly occupied. So, I just hit record and rolled with it. I’m pretty pleased with the result.

It’s also got drums and hand percussion, performed by Stinky the Robot drummer. I’ve got him trained pretty well at this point. He eats a small amount of electricity, sleeps in his little box and he only bites occasionally, now; I’ve even removed the shock collar.

It’s really one of the most simple, straightforward songs that I’ve ever written. There’s a main riff and a slight variation on it, toward the middle. Then, there’s the verse part, a two-measure figure that repeats, over and over.

There’s three, short verses, no chorus and no bridge. That’s because it was originally a poem and I had no desire to adapt the words, just to flesh out the musical bits.

The rhythm guitar part really emphasizes the drums and bass anyway, thus making it more of a groove tune than a standard, pop formula type of song. The lyrics take up only about the first third of it and the rest is just an excuse to do what musicians love to do… jam.

Lyrics

Pilgrimage to the mountain,
On through a hurricane
Going to pray for my family,
And for those who lay in the clay
I don’t know who will hear me
But I will cry on the wind
Grant me strength and compassion
Give me self-discipline

Oh, the pressure and the pride, now
They can split your skull
When your best ain’t enough, now
All you can do is let go
A thousand years’ wisdom
Will set it all straight
A fool’s minute will erase it
Ah, but that is the Way

I was tied to a tree
And whipped like a dog
It’s where I learned to be free
And to trust in God
In the center of the mountain
You will find a ring
When you wear that piece/peace
No man’s words will sting