Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Middle aged white man with a beard standing in a bedroom with posters on the walls
J.J. Campbell

a tempting red sky

wake up pissing

blood, think nothing

of it

still enough vinegar

in your soul to kill

any mortal man

a tempting red sky

these are the nights

you’ll drink gin

from an old cup

you used as a child

might as well,

that’s where all

the pain comes

from

———————————————————————————-

in dying arms

and here come all the

reasons i wanted to die

as a child

scattered ashes in a field

in the middle of nowhere

black roses in dying arms

someone put on some

mozart

dirty looks all around

i remember when we

tasted each other on

the top of a mountain

in the rain

you brought out my crazy

like no other soul on this

planet

and here we are

in tears

what could have been

just another dirty rumor

if they aren’t talking

about you, you ain’t

doing your job

remember that shit

loose lips

we danced like everyone

was watching and were

jealous

——————————————————————————–

needle still dangling

enchanted beauty

falls into the void

of this world

the neon bleeds

though the thin

walls

needle still dangling

a rush of something

more than a mere

mortal can handle

the crushing tragedy

of depravity

the endless escape

from anything based

in reality

take my loneliness

and stuff it away

where only the false

idols can find it

hold tight

i will be there

broken as always

loving with

whatever i

have left

the demons only

bite if you pay

in cash

——————————————————————————–

natural to me

i think i wanted to grow

up like kerouac and just

die sooner

i never felt like i had

‘on the road’ in me

of course, i had planned

that cross country coming

of age trip but the friend

i was going with left

without me

that became a running

joke in my adult life

take two steps into

the future and brace

for the bottom to

fall out

i look back on those

years and wonder why

the joints were never

laced

how did i never catch

something from the

homeless or the strange

women in the dive bars

this dystopian madness

that i find comforting

chaos is natural to me

that life isn’t for just anyone

it takes a couple of screws

loose at best

——————————————————————————————-

lost empires

slip on some coltrane and

lose yourself on a yellow

brick road of crack babies

and lost empires

we were supposed to be great

our own kings and queens

the rulers of this little domain

we are peasants

modern day slaves

thankless jobs and a world that

won’t let us have any fun

and they wonder why these

four walls are enough for me

how one soul can get lost in

constant states of wreckage

and pain

i can’t help but think i’m

way past my expiration date

a lost carton of milk at the

back of a dying fridge

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is stuck in the suburbs, wondering where all the lonely housewives have gone? He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, Yellow Mama, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Beatnik Cowboy and Lothlorien Poetry Journal. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *