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I am getting back on to my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. But other, patrons-only content will be available to patrons, there.


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Don’t question it too long

You did nothing wrong

At least, that is what

You’ll tell yourself, soon


Guilt leaves without a trace

All you need do is replace the face

None of it made the cut

All of it wanes, with the fading moon


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Patreon

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

antiverse

blogspot

Conjure Work

The Kitchen Floor

From my book, in the current,

available at ConjureWork.com

The Kitchen Floor

the orange octagon pattern

on the linoleum

looks to me

like a mandala

it reminds me

that there is

symmetry

in everything;

in the trees,

in your smile

some think the

idea of a

high divinity,

attributed to

inanimate objects,

is foolish and

childlike,

a quirk of immature intellect,

comical ideas

about cycles

and karma

under various names

and guises

but the physicists tell me

that all the atoms

of my body

(and yours, too)

came from stars,

in distant galaxies,

so many years ago

that it cannot even be imagined…

that we are,

literally,

star dust

every time you breathe,

you inhale

molecules of air

that were once

the same breaths

of air

taken in by kings, queens,

murderers, trees,

you name it.

we are all parts of each other.

The people around you

really do

rub off on you.

perhaps my kitchen floor

now holds a molecule

that was once

part of a hair

on Mozart’s head

or, maybe a fingernail

of Christ’s

or, a piece of

the Buddha’s skin

I’ve heard it said that

if you sit in one place,

long enough,

the whole world will

pass by

but I need not wait

my orange,

octagonal mandala

already contains

the whole

of the universe

Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

antiverse

blogspot

Conjure Work

Lens

All sight being monstrous

Through that darkened lens

Which gravely shows

Only what and who we can use

 

To angrily curse and cuss

Dwell in separate dens

Peace or war, casually propose

We ourselves, get to choose

 

Not every player wins and thus,

Some steal chips by twos and tens

Yet each heart clearly knows

There’s no good reason for any to lose

 

Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

antiverse

blogspot

Conjure Work

oh to weep

oh to weep

to feel the tears, gliding
the joy that is a chasm
of painful knowledge,
the dark heart of
recognition

to gaze into the
eyes of suffering
and see its immense love for you
to peer into ecstasy,
become… fully…
cognizant…
of its ambivalence

to gasp and choke
on crumbs of empty space
to burn with hunger
at the brimful table of eternity;
the hall is so large,
the table so long, that
the head chair sits far,
outside the kingdom…
the queen is, by definition,
in permanent exile

her hound sounds
a trumpet of returning,
to the entrance,
where all exits
meet in a hollow nexus

its howling pierces stars
and summons perception
a doleful remembering
of cheer, unborn
a triumphant, vigorous celebration
on stages of victory,
a victory that needed
to do nothing but roll out of bed
and put on pants…
the rest was a seamless
unfolding of breath and
muscle memory

thick troubles,
shaped from
thin dust
and triumph,
collected in buckets;
it falls nightly…
no requisite asking,
pleading with fate,
to set aside its sickle
but for an hour

no prayers ascend
all prayers ascend

trouble no more for joys,
imagined leprosies that they are

sing no more praises of defeats
leaden, decrepit bullion

all these… fancies
dancing echoes

there are but few
frail glimpses
and each,
its own
meaningless
useless
miracle

 

Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://trentboswell.blogspot.com/

https://conjurework.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

Depths

Depths

Wrangle up a monster

From the down below

Summon up a beast

That one can keep and know

A tiny, personal demon

One to call your own

In the furnace flames,

An angel image shewn

Burn the picture well

Into your flesh and mind

Hook it into every pore,

Be sure to be unkind

For the creatures that do dwell here,

In these dark and lonely parts

Sing songs of woe and cowardice

Emanating from empty hearts

Little, naughty things

That upon the pain will feast

Siphoned off a tank of dreams

Of which you know the least

I can retell an ancient tale,

Bound by honor, I will never

To have a shallow type of glory

A broken attempt at being clever

My own private monster

Would certainly not be pleased

It takes the choice and refuses to

Be taunted, mocked or teased

All the lovely portions and parts

Hungers it has now sated

Replaced in time by stupid rhyme

And nonsense, well-debated

This is the thing that demons do

And it’s what fascinates us so

All the places and all the things

They can make us do and go

© 2019 Magus, Kevin Trent Boswell

The Nascent Magician magick course

Conjure Work

For Want Of Her

May the eye of her needle

Be passed through by the camel

My beast is ready

And eager to ride

May the comfort of her robes

Cover my animal

The temple of her refuge

Is warm inside

May I sail my vessel

Into her power

And not be tossed

By her storm

May I know the nectar

Of her flower

And be one with the flower

I will be the thorn

Copyright 2019

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://trentboswell.blogspot.com/

https://conjurework.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

Razor, Bramble, Thorn Child

Razor, Bramble, Thorn Child

You shall not slow me

to your 2/4 beat of destruction

I shall hurdle high over you,

Your highness, queen of disappointment

I shall prevail, in the

New dawn form of a creature,

who changes & morphs

into the red stream of power,

flowing through the mountains of

never-ness & nought

The river that flows upstream and

winds through the land of the impossible,

to where the globe of knowledge

floats in a glass of contentment

I shall prevail,

I will sail through the hate and

see the blessed sunrise

that you have sought to suppress

Copyright 2019

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://trentboswell.blogspot.com/

https://conjurework.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

Beat

Nameless, black

Void and choice-less

Surrendered to night,

Full of dark

Wanting nothing,

Now all is empty

Free to take up any chain

Any desire that one might wish for

No desire, no restriction

No thirst for servitude

There is only the vexing slumber,

Hunger for the fat of a new kill

Is somehow become as a stranger

Wandering, wanton hex

A nubile delving into psionic prisms

Load the chamber

With hollow shells of the dead

Projected visions of delirium

Angelic chasms

Frightful clamoring in the cranium

Call back the dogs

And let them sleep,

For the dawn will soon enough

Overtake their prey

That tender light, shredding matter

Rending garment and flesh

Quite succinctly

No need of drummers

To time the pulse of this tune

The rhythm of it,

A vacillating pendulum,

Lo, it is even without the ability

To stray from its precision

The striker upon the cylinder

Is the pointing, bony finger of

The hand of death herself

The hammer that clangs the bell

Is the Mother of Night, incarnate

The femurs of a thousand heros

Beating against the tanned hides

Of the children of the same

Her crooked digit,

A culminating of perpetual cycle…

Stick meets skin, head warps and

Sound emanates through eternity,

Stick meets skin, head warps and

Sound emanates through eternity,

Stick meets skin, head warps and

Sound emanates through eternity,

A beat all too well pounded into the

Collective memory,

Burned into a hive mind,

Fallen into cerebral pits of

“Never before”,

We have at last, found the true past

It is even more horrid and shameful

Than we feared

It is full of monsters,

It is full of us

© 2019 Kevin Trent Boswell, Magus

https://kevintrentboswell.wordpress.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://m.soundcloud.com/kevin-trent-boswell

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/boswell

stain

he was speaking vodka,

a language that I all-too-well

understood

as I sat on the edge of his bed,

I handed him the joint

that I had just finished

carefully rolling

he lit it and taking a small toke,

he became suddenly

and uncharacteristically

serious

“You do know that I’m not life, right?”

it must have been obvious that I had no clue

how to answer that

and so he continued…

“When I was just a little boy,

your grandpa (and mine) told me… he said,

‘Son, you’ll pull time

before you hit twenty’

At nineteen, I did six months”

before he could say another word,

several drunk people filed into the room

and the party took over,

as if the writer of this dark, comedy of errors

had carefully placed it

into the script, for dramatic effect

about fifteen years later,

I stood in the yard

with my father,

one morning

we burned a mattress

in the yard

a mattress with a peculiar red stain

on the top end of it,

right about where a man

would lay his head down

to sleep

smoke climbed through the

bare tree branches,

coating the limbs,

blackening the sun,

giving twisted,

new meaning

to the wind

with each searing crackle,

each hot, little iron that launched out

from the flame,

the notion was solidified…

that you would not

be with us again

that red stain has been

forever removed,

taken off and away from

the bad blend of cotton

and synthetic fiber,

its ugly, lack of aesthetic,

removed from the eye

we have instead,

embroidered you,

into the heart

in gold-letter,

on satin

a little redirection,

a simple trick of the firelight

and of the mind

a touch of pre-approved

manipulation,

vocabulary and memory,

now twisted to suit ourselves

with semblances of sanity

and yourself, in a new suit…

one to bring you

over the threshold of the

next beginning,

in a dapper style

we have gathered many flowers

you were one,

and we gather more

still, we do so wish

that you were not so still

we seem to be so much

more careful now,

with our words

we never had to

monitor our tongues, before…

we counted on you,

to always say something deliciously profane,

hysterical, sublime…

something far more terrible

than we would ever manage (or dare)

to bring forth from our fearful mouths

you said it all for us,

being our favorite devil,

you spared no words,

knowing full well, that your time

was short

now, it has fallen serious and sullen

and ash settles on us,

stealing the still-warm seat

of smiles

we do our best

to preserve the integrity

of your memory

with all your words,

so clumsily wrong,

so horribly right

your faults fill volumes,

all of these now consumed by fire

and forgetfulness

we will not miss them

we are in fact,

glad to be free of these,

free from the weight of your awful acuity

your condemnation of this world,

was felt always, hot upon our necks,

virtually indecipherable

from the indiscriminate joy

that your voice poured out

over our wanting brains

we will not miss the anarchy of your actions,

nor your allegiance to an autocratic indifference

but beneath the

intolerable heavy,

knowing of nothing else to do…

we dutifully lift up our eyes

to the coming days

where you

are not

© 2019 Kevin Trent Boswell

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://m.youtube.com/c/MagusBoswell72

https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCm_GmeGcSi4h2zbzC8vypwQ

https://m.soundcloud.com/kevin-trent-boswell

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/boswell

The Way Out

I know your fears, I know the panic,
I know the stories you tell
I know you never feel good enough
I know your special brand of hell

I’m sorry you never learned to trust
I tried to explain and help you see…
If I claim you as one of my own,
It’s because you’re good enough for me

It’s not enough to respect me
Its not enough to idealize
You must trust in every way
Or the fear will gladly paralyze

Secret loathing of the self
Is hardly what I’d call service
At no point during your training
Were you ever instructed to be nervous

I understand you doubt yourself
You are convinced that you’ll never do
And that’s the only thing that prevents
Your happiness from being true

I’m sorry you never learned to trust
Those feelings are certainly rough
But lack of trust in me, doesn’t mean
That I’m not good enough

You would have been fine
More than fine; even happy, too
But you’d rather torture and blame yourself
Than figure out the right thing to do

Stopping short at the finish line
Is more painful than never beginning
Raking yourself over the coals of loss,
When you could so easily be winning

You might not feel worthy and so you jump
In the opposite direction of fear
Martyrdom and suffering yield nothing,
Although you force us to watch… and hear

In that deep chest of memories
You have simple tools that you can use
To ease the burden and the stress,
To help determine the next step to choose

A thousand times you can learn the game
A thousand times, start the race
Eventually you’ll have had more than enough
But those fears, you’ll still have to face

Unless of course, in the meantime
You manage to break that thing called you
We all stand back and helplessly pray;
Because there’s nothing else we can do

The power to ask, the decision to heal
It all rests solidly in your hands
Choose the work or choose easy escape
But don’t ever say that no one understands

Choose the path of sacrifice and work
Or choose the path of pleasure and strife
But there’s more love flowing over you, child
Than many know in their whole life

Ask for help and pick your team
Having chosen, never wander or doubt
An hour’s pleasure will distract you, yes
But it never points the way out

Like I said before and will again,
It’s no harder for you, than for them
You are more than capable of saving yourself
Or you may, yourself, condemn

All alone, or in twos

The ones who really love you

Walk up and down, outside the wall

Some hand in hand,

Some gather together in bands

The bleeding hearts and the artists

Make their stands

And when they’ve given you their all,

Some stagger and fall, after all it’s not easy

Banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall

—Pink Floyd, Outside The Wall, from the album, The Wall

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://m.youtube.com/c/MagusBoswell72

https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCm_GmeGcSi4h2zbzC8vypwQ

https://m.soundcloud.com/kevin-trent-boswell

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/boswell

Even In The Littlest Things

Even in the littlest things, you lie
Promises of civil courtesies so small,
To fulfill them, one barely need try
Even in the littlest things, you lie

So many pieces to your hate
Some are hidden, some stand tall
None create joy, only weight
So many pieces to your hate

Your darkness is beyond blinding
Wondering if there’s any light at all
Mislabeling what I was finding
Your darkness is beyond blinding

A forgery, nearly perfect, passing
Mask chipped, the disguise did fall
Recidivist, apology count surpassing
A forgery, nearly perfect, passing

But hey, at least you got to try it
Labeled thing, you renamed it all
No one ever insisted you buy it
But hey, at least you got to try it

And now, we all feel less than good
Endless, useless, talking, small
Nothing gained, nothing goes as it should,
And now, we all feel less than good

© 2019 K.T. Boswell Do not use, reprint or repost this without my written permission.

https://kevintrentboswell.wordpress.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://m.youtube.com/c/MagusBoswell72

https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCm_GmeGcSi4h2zbzC8vypwQ

https://m.soundcloud.com/kevin-trent-boswell

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/boswell

Have Fun With That

Have fun, unknown one
With your new piece of puzzle doubt
Anything that escapes its lips,
Exactly what you’re listening for
Says exactly what you want and why,
Right when you’ve had enough to quit
You may want to run, unknown one
It’ll do what looks like a turn about
Until its bored and your way slips
Does as it damn well pleases and more
Teach it, break it, tame it, go on… try
Should be amusing to watch that shit
Author’s Note:
For the person about to make a mistake, the one who will not understand what they’re getting into until it’s far too late. I do not blame you in the slightest for not believing. You will, one day.

© 2019 Kevin Trent Boswell

https://kevintrentboswell.wordpress.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://m.youtube.com/c/MagusBoswell72

https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCm_GmeGcSi4h2zbzC8vypwQ

https://m.soundcloud.com/kevin-trent-boswell

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/boswell

All Is Lost

All is lost

Hope abandoned in the pines

None dwell here

But angry ghosts

Cursed and crossed

Failed to read between the lines

Where written was fear,

With all its morbid hosts

Treasure spilled

And scattered upon the earth

Freely taken at whim

By anyone that might

Pleasure killed

Stripped of all its worth

Coffers open to skim

Reputation subject to slight

© 2019 Kevin Trent Boswell

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://m.youtube.com/c/MagusBoswell72

https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCm_GmeGcSi4h2zbzC8vypwQ

https://m.soundcloud.com/kevin-trent-boswell

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/boswell

untitled

I’ve never loved one

Who would love me back

And I’ve never loved one

Who would care

When I reach out

In joy or in fright

There’s never anyone there

You may see what you want

And have what you don’t

And look, but don’t ever touch

And all is yours for the asking, my child

But love is a little too much

Copyright 2018 Magus

Kevin Trent Boswell

ConjureWork.com

ConjureSound.com

patreon.com/magus72

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In my dedication to lifting you higher,

I am willing to hold you down,

Until you drop all the words of the liar

And your senses come back around

If you think, you will easily recall…

In fairness, I told you from day one

That of you, I would have all

Or else I would settle for none

In blindness I will take your beauty

In deafness, accept your word

When you give completely, as is your duty

Only then will it be seen and heard

Seeds have been planted in soil, indeed

Despite resistance, they will take root

I will wait for the pruning of the weed

The removal of what does not suit

Once the grapes spring from the vine

In the garden you will find me

Taking the sweet fruit that is mine

As it ever was supposed to be

Copyright 2018

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

https://antiverse.webs.com

https://trentboswell.blogspot.com/

https://conjurework.com

https://www.patreon.com/magus72

Tiger

On the riverbanks of India

The men wade among crocodiles

For fish

In the jungles of Indonesia

The men walk among tigers

For wood

In the backs of our western minds

Among the terror files

We wish

These monsters

Would disappear

For good

Oh, to be alive and in Indonesia

By Kevin Trent Boswell (Magus)

Copyright 2018

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Conjure Work

Conjure Sound

Antiverse

birthday basket

On my birthday, June 21, 2018

For all of you

glow bright,

torch flame ball

squeezes

through the cracks

in the wall

of the circled garden,

zapping flowers and faces

with light and warmth

illuminating orb climbs atop

the back of a crab carriage

and takes up its reigns

ten miles down the trail

then ten more and

a final ten days, still

of all the gifts

possible to call satisfying,

none is more so

than having a handful of faces

you know and welcome

into your eyes

arms about you,

a band of those who can be counted as your people

and you

as one of their own

in this, my mem-heh day,

I dig into my pockets

and find only useless

bits of nothing,

ridiculous things like gold

and documents of ownership,

certificates of overpriced

possessions,

keys to things,

things that are kept

locked away

for fear of their loss…

I instead grab for paper and pen and offer you instead,

something truly useful

a small scrap of peace

like the Christ split the

loaves and fishes,

I will break this bread of joy

with all of you,

we will divide it between us

until there is no more left

with each disappearing morsel,

may you, like Osiris,

be reconstructed,

made whole

enjoy your slice of cake

it was never mine, anyway;

nothing ever was

the things I called my own

were spells, illusions,

glamours and self-deceptions

the only thing real is that

which I give to you

may it sustain your hearts

through lonely periods

may it entertain you

during dullness

may it prevent you

from doing stupid things

when you are angry

or afraid

may it protect you

from the attacks of others,

may it protect you

from the awful attacks

that you launch

upon yourself

may it make you laugh

when you’re down

and seemingly out

may it be a cornerstone for you,

as you succeed

and build your new palaces

in the sun

take this and share

like a plant cutting,

spread it

like wildfire,

let it swallow the whole

branding genuine smiles

on the faces of all you people,

you children

of birth and growth,

decline and

the final surrender to sleep

let this stupid,

silly smile disease

infect you,

let the epidemic of laughter

sweep

over the land

taking you utterly

and joyfully

by surprise

By Kevin Trent “Magus” Boswell

ConjureWork.com

KevinTrentBoswell.com

ConjureSound.com

ThePlasticInfinity.com

Nothing Gained

Two or three enemies conspiring in unison,

However petty or untrue their cause

Can turn an army of friends against you,

As if it never was

A couple of soured enemies,

In coveting something you possessed

Banded together for your ruin

But never settled their own unrest

Child A, when refused a toy

That clearly belonged to Child B

Child A smashed it, in a rage, and turned

His eye to the toys of Child C

As many toys as he can jealously take

Each stolen, broken or thrown

Each proves only how sad he is

For never having toys of his own

By Kevin Trent “Magus” Boswell

ConjureWork.com

ConjureSound.com

ThePlasticInfinity.com

paranoiaquatic

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”

Kevin Trent Boswell, magus72, https://conjurework.com

For more, see…

for music:

The Plastic Infinity and

Conjure Sound

and for more poetry:

Antiverse and

Patreon

oh, little dog of pity

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

Kevin Trent Boswell

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 😉

Magus & The Plastic Infinity

Patreon

Antiverse

Observationist

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

Kevin Trent Boswell of Conjure Work (Magus72)

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

Copyright 2018

min. wage

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

Magus, Conjure Sound, Kevin Trent Boswell

For music, see:

The Plastic Infinity and

Conjure Sound

For more poetry:

Antiverse and

Patreon

last day

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 

By Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell and Stacie

Death

a brief glimpse of something sort of like poetry… but not entirely… by Kevin Trent Boswell

The bean came undone

The waters did run

And runners so fast

Cannot be out run

 

It worked out in the wash

And came out in the rinse

And no one’s thought

About it since

 

Halloween for some weird kid named Kevin Trent Boswell
Death, in training.

 

by Kevin Trent Boswell, aka Magus

Find out more at these spots on the wonderwebs:

Conjure Work

See other stuff (music and poetry)

The Plastic Infinity

Conjure Sound

The album, Flagship, at CD Baby

Patreon

poetry at: antiverse

Kevin Trent Boswell

Untitled

My rattie Pepper. The poem is NOT about her 😉

goodbye to long loved lover…

of mind

of body

of soul comfort

a simple adieu will never do

i had to learn of your blues

before i could come to our parting

with my new lack luster ontology

i will reflect

on my past respect

for you

and what you meant to me

we danced on the threads of being

auriferous sight,

through the succulent sight

of your superior seeing

last night i dreamed of monsters

but while i was awake

my mind was subservient

to your subsequent safety;

many daydreams did you bring me

in baskets of gold weaving

but now, my mind troubles

at the thought of retrieving you

and your sorely, of late,

soft company…

which has become sharp

and obtrusive

these days, since the

course of my ways

has drifted

away from you,

my former confidant

i have betrayed you

in some sense,

since i have outgrown you,

i now must disown you,

no longer a jewel

but a weight

no longer the earthy giver

of the delighted light of life,

my freedom of a wife,

full of discourse

and ideas

i will send word of your purpose

through my travels,

the undertakings of my soul

seen hereafter without you

i will miss you sorely,

though i may tolerate you

no more

by (Magus) (Kevin Trent Boswell)

More at:

https://kevintrentboswell.com

https://conjurework.com

http://conjuresound.com

http://antiverse.webs.com

https://theplasticinfinity.com 

untitled

Question not, nor wonder why
Twist not knots in thy mind
Much is mystery beneath the sky
Meant not to know whilst in thy prime

Understanding lies not in fruit unripe
Sweetest fruit is aged and cooked
Pull your freedom from nature’s pipe
There lies the knowledge you’ve overlooked

 

by Magus (Kevin Trent Boswell)

Fertile Green….

Fertile Green May Not Be Overcome

You shall never diminish,

If no more so than in my mind

You have succeeded thus far, fair lady

In clearing the dust from my table

To replace that foul antiquity

With fresh linens and the lovely flowers of

Your feminine presence

Perhaps now, may I prove myself worthy

To sit here and dine, beneath the light

Of your intoxicating grace

Fertile green may not be overcome

No lasting path shall be cut

Through the forest of your youth

The increasing resilience of your spirit

Will cause you to flourish and grow wild,

Beyond the dreams of men and dogs

Never pausing to contemplate

The futile mutterings

Of half-hearted fools

Fertile green may not be overcome

By Kevin Trent Boswell, ©️ 2018

Kevin Trent Boswell