The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
Here, you get to experience the original poetry by Magus, the owner of Conjure Work. Because you’re on this site, you’re probably fairly familiar with Magus (Kevin Trent Boswell) as conjure man.
This however, is a far step to the left… an entirely different medium. Since the age of eighteen, Kevin Trent Boswell has been composing poetry, in a wide variety of forms. Equally comfortable with complex structure and free-form, avant-garde experiments, the modus operandi is to skip around and taste each fruit.
The business of conjuring Spirits and musical sounds usually presents a bevy of distractions. Therefore, poetry is never first on the list of priorities. Still, Magus has penned well over a thousand works.
Of these, roughly two dozen, single publications are floating around… somewhere. And then, of course, there are these complete volumes that are on display before you, here.
However, you can get them right here, straight from the author and with a signing option, no extra charge.
The official site for Magus’s poetry is:
Then there’s also antiverse, a bit less official and perhaps much less current. It’s got a bit of material on it but hasn’t been updated in quite a while.
Patronage of the arts is what fuels great periods of enlightenment in society. One only need look at history to see the correlation between art and other, positive advances in the world.
Whether it’s painting, sculpture, music, plays or poetry, art inspires and nurtures the spirit. You too are able to bolster new art, when you become a patron, today. Just hop over to Magus72 on Patreon.
Here’s the list of books available. Click on the titles if you prefer to get them from Amazon.
Chaos Comes Apart is the result of a flurry of inspiration that came as a result of workings done with Venus. It’s about the extreme circumstances that we can sometimes find ourselves in, without even trying. Life is often turned upside down by forces beyond our control and yet, even those upsets do not last forever. The only unchangeable thing is change, itself. Get it on Amazon or, if you want a signed copy, you can order one here.
currently only available on Amazon
Contrary to how it seems, Next is not simply the next publication in the series. It’s simply the title of the book. A surreal and psychedelic slipstream in a style similar to the beat poets and the edgy work of giants like Charles Bukowski.
Next removes your head from your shoulders. Then, it opens your mouth and uses your skull as a ladle, using it to dip into the bucket of strange dreams. It’s just another odd addition to the series of poetry and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell.
Patients committed to this madhouse were all convicted of the same crime… vision. Inspired by altered states of consciousness, of all types and varieties, these pieces are laced with heroic doses of mind-altering chemicals.
Surgeon General’s Warning:
Not for those who are easily offended!
Tune in, turn on and space out, to the different strains of strained focus, the odd alterations caused by everything from caffeine to cocaine, religious trance to acid trip, fevered flu to the lightheaded fuzziness of hunger, from meditation to marijuana, dreams to dope and everything in between.
Take twice, every hour, never as prescribed and wash it down with a bucketful of expressions from the jazz idiom. Take a hit and a hard left turn, into the place where there are no turns… only gradual shifts.
Dip your toes in the kiddie wading-ocean of chess, explorations of space and structure, bebop, sleep, imagination, vision, combat, aliens, angels, birth, creatures both real and surreal.
Crash all concepts of time and ridiculous, ideas that have passed their shelf, expiration dates; silly words like tomorrow, yesterday, now, here, there and you. Overdose instead, on all the things in the madcap medicine cabinet.
Then watch the walls melt, as all things collide, explode and ooze into one another, inside an extra weird lava lamp called Next. It’s definitely a possibility of a guarantee of a good time had by others who were walking in your body, while you were out somewhere, astral traveling.
from “Next”. The Poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
You are about to tumble headlong into insanity. Here you become subject to things which are held back from polite conversation. You will dive deep into the baser elements of human existence and know the unpleasant ends of persons and things.
The whole spectrum of evil is present to attend your travels, the foulest aspects of the paranormal, diabolical, maniacal fiends. No more will you have the option of turning away from death, disease or insanity.
Learn the warped mind of the serial killer and the lone gunman who slays at random. Examine the clever, bloody and political stratagems of the Devil, himself. It’s all the psychosis that a growing child needs. Take a mental rollercoaster ride of schizophrenia, paranoia, depression, anxiety, paralysis, and suicide. Feel the slow, anxious climbs to the top, with tales of murder and the ravenous states of delusional minds.
Then, the rails of this bad, acid trip plunge far down, beneath the comforting light of day, into to the realms of black magic and demonic possession. Its sickeningly steep loops twist and wind their way through your nightmares, without mercy. Imagine any narrator you like but know that each piece is different. In some, it is an ordinary person speaking, recounting an extraordinary or horrific event. In others, it is the very doer of the foul deeds who himself informs you of the malefactions at hand.
As of this moment, there is still time to turn back. Other than the price of admission, what have you to lose by quitting now? You may regard yourself as a coward but you will not face the impossible task of “un-imagining” what terrible things will be in your brain, by the end. Once the car is in motion, you must ride it out and face all that comes. You have been warned. Tread not lightly onto these paths. Things lurk here which desire your life light, to consume it for themselves and their supper. By going forward, you accept all responsibility for your own, mental well being. There’s no point in wishing you good luck, since here, there is none to be found.
Here’s a piece from Dark Matter that is set to music.
Mystical, magickal… or moronic… all according to how you filter and sort. This collection of poetry by Kevin Trent Boswell poems is a mysterious soup of the strange, esoteric phantasms which some refer to as sorcery. Dive into Jungian synchronicity and the revelations of madmen. Some of the works are overt gestures toward the occult and the mystical, while others merely hint at the modes of magickal thinking.
Mystical questions raised by these pieces are highly unlikely to lead the reader to some new, enlightening view of the universe and human life. Yet, they may well entertain.The probability that fans of poetry will enjoy these musings is of reasonable measure. Odds that practitioners of various types of practical magick will relate to the works and find some small germ of inspiration for their own craft? Perhaps.
One might do well in placing a two dollar bill on the table, as a wager. Persons who land in both demographics will almost certainly have a fine time, dipping their toes into this cosmic pool. The odds there are high enough that you should go all in. Push your chip stack of silver, Mercury dimes and two-headed quarters into the pot, with a firm smile and some crossed fingers (just in case).
A title, quite similar to the previous, not quite ready for release. Coming soon.
All stories begin with “once upon a time”. They invariably take one or more dark twists and turns, compelling the journeyers to yearn for that innocent beginning. This is a spoonful of those simpler bits of existence, the quiet hours, full of smiles and amusements. Enjoy while you can… for the road turns yet again, just ahead.
on the page
This compilation is most relatable for those who also hammer away at words, in some way or other. Whether you’re a fellow poet, a writer of novels, short stories or even ad copy, this is for you. You’ll get this one, because you know the deliciousness of being a wordsmith… when it’s going well. All too well, you know the inherent madness of attempting to snatch your visions out of your mind and staple them to a paper.
You know the bitter, hair-pulling, garment-rending frustration of doing your best work, only to have it fall on deaf ears. The gut-wrenching disgust of the rejection letter is no stranger to your emotional repertoire. You’ve guzzled coffee or whiskey or just plain dirt, to get the taste of bad reviews out of your mouth. A wrestling partner of yours is the comic irony of having your worst work held up and praised before the masses. These poems are yours.
flower unfold slowly
Another edition, not quite ready for release. Coming soon. This is a compendium of romantic and/or “erotic” works (not pornographic but rather… sensual).