The Ancient One  

Before the stars began to shine, 

Or the moon was a pale light in the night , 

Eons came and went, 

In this age we live in, 

Stories were told and retold, 

Until lost in the in the mists of time. 

Many wise men shared their wisdom, 

And their truths were made known 

To the world.. 

But the people walked on in darkness, 

Trampling their truths as they went. 

Their weapons became more and more fearsome, 

And they had help with the evil they chose. 

The Ancient One is watching, 

He knows this too shall pass, 

He seen it come,  

And He watched it go, 

He is the first and the last. 

Water

Once a man went near a sea and said to the water, “Tell me something about you.” The water said to the man, “I can bring flood and can destroy a country, People drink me when they feel thirst, People use me to wash their bodies.” After hearing this the man again said to the water, “You have so much power that you can destroy a country but you always take the shape of the thing where you’re kept.” Saying this, the man took water in a pot and went from there.

Monsoon in Bangladesh

Clouds roll in over fields so wide,

Raindrops fall and rivers glide.

Bamboo bends as winds rush through,

Leaves dance in a world turned new.

Children splash in muddy streams,

Village ponds reflect gray dreams.

Monsoon sings on tin roof tops,

Till the final raindrop stops.

Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade ten in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

HANDS – THEY SHOOK AND THEN…

They futured like gods.

This hand (call it woman),

that hand (call it man)

togethered an applause.

Their fists of spider,

their architect fingers,

built patterns of gauze.

One blob (called embryo)

soon became elbows

attached to hands and jaws

that grew into prayers

to clapclapclap their heirs.

BELLUM PARTUM

And the whole earth with death and death-cries filled, My Lai,

Might long remember the face of suffering Dresden!

This is a battle hard to endure, and grim. Gaza Gaza Gaza

— Dorothy L Sayers tr The Song of Roland

Like zealots

coked on bullets,

the soldiers spread

metal sperm

into harems, 

their birth of death.

The bomber

was in labor,

sucked a deep breath,

dropped her load,

her egg of blood,

her birth of death.

GRACELESSLY WAITING

Now, hum, chant, dust off the altar.

Calf’s already gutted for slaughter.

All I need now is the priestess.

“Just hold me in honor, hold me in awe,

my fine and gaudy mistress.

I pray you, Make me your god.”

But you released me, to wander

beyond the range of my hymns.

And left me here to conjure

you, incarnate, back from a dream.

So, carefully, I detail your temple

with incense to be purified.

But I’m running low on these candles

while watching the calfling putrefy.

DIRTY BLUES

Log on the fire burning into white ash.

Stick in fireplace turning into white ash.

When the fire’s cold, thrown out with the trash.

Used up, ejected, treated just like dirt.

Disposed, rejected, tossed out same as dirt.

One unravelling thread dooms the entire shirt.

Condom in the corner when the passion’s spent,

Tossed into the corner after love is spent.

One more unmourned dead soldier in the tent.

Expired, discarded, discharged just like dirt.

Damned and abandoned, swept out just like dirt.

Maybe not dead yet, maybe just hurt.

Mission finished, an empty toothpaste tube.

Purpose over, a used-up toothpaste tube.

Just gum on the fanblade after it’s chewed.

Tossed out, discarded, forgotten — just dirt!

Thrown out at the wedding, now I am dirt:

Left-over confetti lying in the church.

Log in the fire burning into white ash.

Wood on the fire turning into fine ash.

My steady warmth for you spurned in a flash!

Disposed, dejected, treated just like dirt.

Thrown out, ejected, treated worse than dirt.

One unravelling thread dooms the whole damn shirt.

BREEZES — GALES

My lifetrain went to pieces

when it jackknifed off the rails.

Buddha showed the eightfold path.

I lost it on the freeway.

I had memorized the prayers

but I couldn’t do the math.

Some others got the Jesus

but I got stuck with the nails.

Ancient Egypt 

Ancient Egypt, the realm of the pharaohs.

You have your exalted heights for the vulture,

and a serpentine viceroy for your depths.

Amun-Ra enjoys your deification,

as one who radiates a smile upon you by day.

The king of gods and their dexterous magnificence.

He speaks from the burning sky and the air!

Anytime leanness threatens your neighbours,

the life giving nile extracts your lush green.

Having flowed like milk from pendulous breasts.

You sourced your indelible prints and texts

from versatile cyperus papyrus.

On your hieroglyphs we see you revealed,

so do we at the valley of the kings.

The many gods defined and still define you.

Your culture, your life and the underworld 

are all by Osiris and Nephthys controlled.

The old kingdom, the middle and the new

are all at Memphis, Thebes and Pi-Rameses seen.

The pyramids of Giza distinguish you as one wonder of the world for all civilizations seen!

One magical Egypt, the precursor of modern civilizations.

into the adult years


longing for a kiss

on a hot summer

day



never had much luck

when i was younger

and that has carried

right into the adult

years



and i know, when i

give up they will come

out of the shadows



tell me all the things

i wanted to hear years

ago



back when love had

a chance



when dreams weren't

extinguished



when desire still

resided in this

house

-------------------------------------------------------------
as fleeting as they may be


ponder death like

there is some other

option



childhood memories

come flooding by



the pain, the joy,

the heartbroken

nights of all

those years



remind yourself

of the good times



as fleeting as

they may be



they are all you

have left in times

like this



when the first kiss

was so much more



the night you spent

in a stranger's arms



lost in the stars and

the futile belief in

hope



and when tomorrow

doesn't come



will everything be

a mess



all that could have

been has expired



i suppose the best

thing about death



procrastination is

no longer possible

---------------------------------------------------------
her soft hands


a black woman

cut my hair

today



brought back the

memories of what

i always thought

my adult life

would be like



a black wife



cutting my hair

in the kitchen



her soft hands

gently caressing

my hair



different kind of

small talk than

today of course



she thanked me

for the tip



ten dollars



she told me her

daughter has

discovered

brand names



so, i knew she

needed it

--------------------------------------------------------
a public enemy song


got a letter from

the government



fuck, my life is now

a public enemy song



they declined one

of my medications



obviously, i'm starting

to live better than they

will allow



i guess we no longer

want people striving

to be better, etc.



just fucking die

already



i suppose that's one

way to balance

a budget



all it really does

is feed into my

inner child's long

held belief that

they are out

to get me



i'm just about at

that age where a

mass shooting

really makes

sense


--------------------------------------------------------------------
come around and say hello


a bottle of rye

to keep you

warm



these are the nights

where you wouldn't

mind a few ghosts to

come around and say

hello



there's a longing

in your soul that

cuts deeper than

anyone knows



a tragedy waiting

to happen



the endless pursuit

of endless possibilities

of endless mysteries



there must be a

breaking point

of something

good



they don't

understand

the pain



the pure fucking

misery of tomorrow



escaping death

yet again



once your number

is called just accept

it



it is the only way

out


J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is old enough to know better. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Mad Swirl, Yellow Mama and Horror Sleaze Trash. Most days he is taking care of his disabled mother. In the rare moment of free time, he'll be making bets on sports or finding a few seconds for a nap. You sometimes can find him at his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)