a nice big mug of hot rococo

a little understated skywriting
announcing the death
of a loved one
brightens up any picnic

a small, unobtrusive
mountain of mayonnaise
or tapioca pudding
in their living room
makes for a wonderful
birthday surprise

a subtle moat of blood
around your mansion
is much classier than
any ol’ stupid
infinity pool

a modest bouquet of wildfire
in your neighbor’s garden
is a much more imaginative
housewarming gift
than a dull plate of
homemade cookies

one will never present
as rude or ostentatious,
if only you remember
not to scream obscenities
in the movie theater…
until after the opening credits

it’s not beyond the
boundaries of good taste
to have an assortment
of gangrenous appendages
on the bureau in the foyer
instead of the more traditional
candies and breath mints

the neighbors will appreciate
a conservative display
of heads on spikes;
it’s a nice way to
outline the borders
of one’s property line
without being too
uncivilized about it

it’s hardly meretricious or inelegant
to wear a fifty-foot royal purple robe,
with the ears and eyes
of one’s enemies
stitched into the edges

it is, after all, a formal affair;
one wouldn’t wear it
to go out dancing,
obviously

no one of good breeding
will think you garish,
just because you
proclaimed yourself
lord emperor of all unicorns

most will assume
that it was merely
the wine talking

if you bring your honey badger
to that karaoke bar
where all your coworkers
meet for happy hour,
you’ll have the envy of
everyone at the office

it’s not too glitzy or braggadocio
to wear lingerie and furs to church,
not for the easter service, anyway

no one can accuse you of
behaving bodaciously
when you drag a couple of
five-gallon containers of gasoline
into the library, then proceed to
dump them out, and
light up a cigarette

after all, some of us like to
enjoy a good book
with a smoke

never too splashy
to pass out sex toys
and clean needles
at the old folks’ home
and the orphanage;
it just wouldn’t be christmas
without the spirit of giving

yes, it is “commanding”
to slit one’s throat
over the punch bowl

but everyone at the party
knows you’re single,
and you really do
have to peacock
just a smidge,
if you’re ever
going to
attract that
special someone

anyone who
scolds you
for pissing on a
wedding cake
just doesn’t know
how to party

who cares if you didn’t hit
every single note perfectly
in that show tune?

before you started boldly
livening up the place with song,
it was so tense and somber
in that operating room;
those surgeons should be
thanking you

it’s anything but too splashy
to throw mardi gras beads
at a funeral

everyone appreciates it
when you spice things up
with some colorful fun,
and who doesn’t like
free costume jewelry?

people are just
too uptight
these days

don’t take it personally;
they simply
do not understand
your special brand
of panache


©2024 Kevin Trent Boswell

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

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


The music and poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell

The music and poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell


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Author: Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell is a thing that once blinked briefly in and out of existence. It made noises and gestures while it lasted. The exact nature of its demise is unclear. Some sources say it collapsed beneath the weight of entropy and time. Other tertiary evidence suggests the possibility that it was destroyed by a predator, an accident, or perhaps even by itself. The truth of the matter is unknown. Luckily, no one cares.

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