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

How High The Moon

 

 

The 1940 jazz standard written by Nancy Hamilton, music by Morgan Lewis.

Here performed by Magus (Kevin Trent Boswell) as a chord-melody, instrumental guitar solo. It’s not my own arrangement, just one I picked up from a book of jazz standards. Enjoy.

 

See more at:

antiverse

The Plastic Infinity

Flagship

Conjure Sound

Conjure Work

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 

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