The Music, Magick, Poetry and Madness of Magus
Bait fish…
bait fish
quick, nervous movements
where to turn?
swim w/ the school,
swim by the rule
swim for yourself,
swim alone
catch 22
still the sponge lung,
pumps an essential fear
evolutionary prerequisites
there in the shallows
the predator swallows
“thanks to our selfless brothers
in the sacrificial, outer circle”
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Antiverse and
oh, little dog of pity,
i have been of once as thee
cast aside, as tied to a tree
i frown on you not in spite,
nor in mercy, for to
set you free would be right
but i will not unbind you and you will not run,
even if i did, you are too dumb
you would but pant and froth and bounce
and for your master, trot patiently about
for she who scooped you up as a puppy,
only a tiny puff of cuteness fluffy
i know too well of your dilemma
i know of it, yes… am forced to remember
how it happened that once i was cute…
yet somehow, i no longer fit the suit
of childhood’s clothing and abandoned toys;
outgrew the mold of being a boy
as favored youth slips away from thee
you, no fault of your own, lose your novelty
i have been where you were, in her bed at night
i have been where you are now, seen as a plight
i have felt sweet caresses on christmas morn
i have slept in hunger amongst bristles and thorns
i too, was once fed by her hands
i too, lost my charm, upon becoming a man
a friend told me once, in a moment of truth,
that the larger things instinctively protect the youth
but small things grow up, as they always must
and fear compels them to crush them to dust
painfully, these things i have come to understand
it is not by criminality that i have become a man
but instead, it is my fortune and honor indeed
for now, of her milk, i have no need
but you, i will pity forever after
for you do not realize the cruelty of your master
and so, if i loosed you and set you free,
you would only wait for your master, beside the tree
you have grown in your body but not in your head;
you will not run away, though you will not be fed
or given water, or love, or be cared for again
as this is the way of grown dogs and men
By Magus
copyright 2018
* Author’s note: The poem is not an actual account of animal abuse but rather a metaphor about toxic relationships. The dog in the picture is Stacie and she’s spoiled rotten, so don’t feel bad for her 😉
Of course it hurts
No matter…
You will continue
Is a mountain
A grading slope
Or a colossal venue?
There is no escape…
Nor can you pretend to
Simply reach inside
Find it in you
Go on your way
By Magus
copyright 2018
He concluded then,
After seeing the starry night
Unfold –
Cluing in
On times of old
– And expelling smoke
That all the universe
Dwelled within himself
(Perception is ALL)
At least until,
The hammock broke and
He took a fall
Suddenly, he felt
VERY small;
Became aware
Of what he did not know
So, he retreated
To the house
To watch
The late show
——–
Written by Magus of Conjure Work
Copyright 2018
who do i think i am?
you ask
why,
i am joe schmoe,
don’tcha know?
i am he who plays
by the rules;
the servant of fools
i am the scrounger
of pocket change
i am he
who will exchange
himself
for gain
you know my name.
yours is the same.
By Magus (Kevin Trent Boswell)
copyright 2018
For music, see:
For more poetry:
Antiverse and
in the days of short pencils
and long papers
an earned renunciation of earlier
struggles
supernatural glimpse of a
well cooked tomorrow,
lying on the plate
beside the knife of
decision
bringing in the trot lines;
wrestling with those large, fat fish,
ready for the pan
and the flame
no more kung-fu,
arduous battle with
quadratic equations
instead, glancing at a
moldy clock,
I see that the
little hand is on armistice
and the big hand is on
congratulations
a beautiful trap
enveloping prey
with your
impossibilities;
ideas…
a subtle swarm
of lovely fireflies
invades
the lungs,
precipitating
an expensive sleep
and all this
is just your way
of saying
hello
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