NOT FOR PLEASURE

In the sun-lit beauty of the evening
I watch as a flock of birds travel across
And it hit my mind, like a sort of knowledge previously unknown
That birds do not fly just for pleasure. 

These birds may, like man, have hustled the whole day
In their own type of office and school
And are returning to rest their aching feathers.
They fly to get home, not for pleasure. 

Sometimes they fly to escape threatening danger
To save their lives and slip away from death
At this point they fly for safety
Not for pleasure. 

They fly to find sustenance for their little ones
Like man they too need something for their belly
So as I watch them now fly past
I know for certain that they do not fly for pleasure

Dictum

It is when words fall
that they lose their im-

pact. Must remain in 
the air for more than

a second or two, cling-
ing to clothing or twist-

ing upwards in the way 
that cigarette smoke does.


Articles

I like using articles to end a 
line. Sometimes an article
of faith, sometimes of clothing. &

occasionally a particle of speech
to give the space between lines
that extra bit of frisson. It is a 

continuity, the way forward, not 
the end of the line that some
flat-earthers seem to think it is. 



 
The Clearing

Not how I re-
remembered or
would have left 
it. Too much

foliage, as if no
one has been here 
to tidy up since I
last came by. 

Tradition always 
suffers when the 
oracles move into 
the marketplaces.


A kind of census

The mind’s mosaic has 
been taken in for intro-
spection. Why learn for 
the sake of learning? Un-
necessary facts might just 
as well be fiction for all 
the use we get from them. 

The fragments are taken 
out for sensual inspection. 
Left so the air can breathe 
on them. Those that acquire 
color are kept to form new 
pathways of the mind. The
bland are used to pebble 
pathways in the garden. 

 

Another Sunflower Sutra

In sunflower I find 
pistil & stamen, their 

output arranged in 
a Fibonacci spiral.


& following on

As the sun sets, the 
credits start to roll. 

This day was brought 
to you by the seven

ayem garbage col-
lectors, a poem that 

glistened just beyond 
the edges of the trawl-

ing net, Sketches of Spain 
with Miles Davis & Gil 

Evans, four coldcall 
intrusions, all declined, 

The Last Samurai on 
cable, washing off the 

line. No special effects 
were provided by either 

Industrial Light & Ma-
gic or Marvel Studios.

 monday morning meeting my landlady on the street

it’s a week day

and i’ve skipped work

when we see each other like this

my head

is vodka/wine cloudy

i have not yet recovered from

last week’s six-day work week

we are tight smiles

and inane pleasantries

to her i’m a monthly check

copious booze bottles on recycling evenings

and little else

her eyes get wide

and she says, not working today?

but i smile and reassure her

that it’s just a scheduled day off

that seems to placate her

but i don’t know how

i’m going to sooth her soul tomorrow

when i’m fucking off from the place again

drowning myself

in a titanic of wine

and internet porn

pretending

that i own this whole

goddamned world

no matter whom

i write the rent check to.

mother of the year

one kid

standing on tables

one kid

playing in traffic

the third one

picking his ass

and sniffing his fingers

her dumb face

glued to a cell phone

streaming tv shows

as the village

burns

burns

burns

around her.

the love songs of joey ramone

all these years later

and i still remember the way

her tears soaked through the phone

the sound a heart breaks

when it breaks long distance

she wanted to be a child bride

but i wanted to be jack kerouac

only i was nothing to her now

but a punk

…gabba gabba hey.

bodyshaping

sculpted women in bikinis

on cable sports tv

when i was thirteen

six in the morning

fresh from my paper route

amazonian goddesses

doing legs lifts or lifting weights

stretching and pulling

sweating and touching each other

as they cheered one other on

while i watched them

with my hand down my pants

strangling that little monster

hoping to get to that great

and grand explosion

before the next

commercial break.                     

big wigs

the genius of their job

is to create a lifetime

of pointless work for us

but to make us think

that the whole idea

was ours in the first place.

————————————————————

—————————————————————-

impending doom

and now the pain starts

to radiate down my left

arm

all my imagination can

come up with is impending

doom

i don’t mind much

i have squeezed about all

the marrow out of this life

i have already lived a few

lives longer than i ever

expected

and while i don’t expect

my death to be sudden

i certainly wouldn’t mind

the adventure that comes

with that

—————————————————————–

the rugged type

dancing with

a 75-year-old

hooker

she says she

likes the rugged

type

you laugh and

say she should

be into whomever

is interested

guess who

will be paying

extra tonight

for anything

———————————————–

an unforgiving sunset

i remember all the goodbyes

the nights of torture and

endless apologies

the quiet car rides into an

unforgiving sunset

your sweet lips wrapped

around the future with

the next lucky soul

and it never failed

the one after me

was the one

the marriage, three

children

life made of greeting

cards and picket fences

sometimes you lose a

game so much you just

decide to quit playing

the fucking thing

love has always been

an enemy

i never wanted it that way

but i never had a chance

either

i’m sure my destiny was

fucked with long before i

knew how to say no

i never was any good

playing a bad hand

———————————————————-

fighting this war

find the rhythm

the beat best to

beat the demons

inside of you

you have lived

too long to still

be fighting this

war

declare a winner

and move the fuck

on already

there are majestic

beaches to see in

places you have

only read about

in books

you’ve lived more

than half your life

and have never

made it past the

arch

what kind of fucking

imagination decides

to neuter itself

embrace the gun

like the child that

was aborted

request a final meal

that doesn’t come

with fries

count to ten and then,

for the first time in

your life

let go

————————————————–

indoor plumbing

i was on

the toilet

the other

day eating

a banana

i’m sure

if the apes

had indoor

plumbing

they would

do the same

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, The Asylum Floor, The Rye Whiskey Review, Disturb the Universe Magazine and The Beatnik Cowboy. His new book with Casey Renee Kiser, Altered States of the Unflinching Souls, will be coming out in August of 2024. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights.

The Story of a Forgotten People ~ Rohingya~
As told by Kristy Raines and Faisal Justin

The Story of a Forgotten People ~ Rohingya~
(As told by Kristy Raines and Faisal Justin)

There are some stories that make us laugh, make us cry, teach us something, or leave a lasting impression. This story has all of this. But this is a story that for now, has no ending…  Now looking back, I have to say, that I may have been the one who benefited most from this story. It will all make sense in the end… And this is where the story begins.

He goes by the name of Faisal Justin and we casually spoke while we worked in the same poetry group.  We both are poets and he had written his second book of poetry called, “Poetic Healing.”

Faisal and I had a conversation one day where he began telling me about his people; The Rohingya people.  I had never heard of them and when I look back, I wondered, why?  I never heard about them on the news, magazines, or anywhere else.  As Faisal started telling me the story, I was quite disturbed with what I was hearing.  But I knew that I wanted to help in some way. I know now that sending small donations, with good intentions, is not the way, though I am sure they are very much appreciated, which I did to help the children especially.  It will take so much more to make an impact. These People lost not only their homes, they lost their whole country and had to flee for their lives… Quite unbelievable.

But, I think the best way to really start this story, is to begin with the story of the genocide of the Rohingya people and how this even happened. Then I will let this unbelievable young man tell his remarkable story of how he survived in the refuge camp of Cox’s Bazar, and how his world change remarkably. I promise you, this has a happy ending for him and it is my hope that this story changes your lives and gives you a huge sense of gratitude of the word, “Freedom”.  I also hope that this story prompts everyone to contact governmental entities and sign petitions to help these people return to their homeland safely or at least find them a wonderful new one of freedom. It is all of our problem.. It is a matter of what is right. The Rohingya refugee crisis is one of the worst forced displacement situations crisis in the world.

It has been seven years since over 742,000 Rohingya people, (half of whom were children), had to flee for their lives from the brutal massacres. Entire villages were burned to the ground, thousands of families were killed or separated and massive human rights violations were reported. The persecution of Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar, also known as (Burma), persisted on a regular basis by the government and Buddhist nationalists. In late 2016, Myanmar’s armed forces and police launched a major crackdown against the people in Rakhine State which is located in the country’s northwestern region.

The Burmese military has been accused of committing ethnic cleansing and genocide.  More than one million Rohingya refugees have fled violence in Myanmar, in successive waves of displacement.  Rohingya refugees are living in Bangladesh, with a majority settled in and around Kutupalong and Nayapara refugee camps in Bangladesh’s Cox’s Bazar region — some of the largest and most densely populated in the world. The date, August 25, 2017 to be exact, was the exodus that many remember; when they fled in horror as they watched their family members and friends being brutally murdered, raped and run out of their own country.

Now, and for many years, the camps where they exist are over crowded, filled with illness, unacceptable medical care, unclean water, no jobs and kept captive in a what I would call a prison without walls.   

On top of the concerns of violence against the people, such as rape, human trafficking gang activity, starvation and losing hope, no jobs, and the cut of monthly allotments for food to 8 dollars a month, they weather the harsh climate of excessive heat, cold, cyclones and monsoons in  homes made from whatever materials they can find for shelter.  After this many years under these impossible living conditions, many are growing weary to go on. Some of the people living there who I have become close to have said that death would be far more better than going on. 

No one in this day and age should have to live like this. Many countries in the past talk of helping them, yet to let them down over and over.  Most of the people who were fortunate enough to receive an education or were aloud to go to school have started home schools, which in itself is dangerous for those that attempt to educate the young. It is illegal to do so for the Rohingya children.  In a genocide, no one has rights. I give these teachers so much credit for taking the chance.  And another thing.  The teachers and students are extremely intelligent and so young for knowing so much. They work hard, studying. They soak up and appreciate learning.  Without education the future for a thriving generation will not stand a chance.

If someone takes away education, a way to protect themselves, and tries  to take away people’s religion and hope,  and you have the basic recipe for a genocide. The teachers in the refugee camps get beat up and worse when they stand up to the tyranny.  But yes, they keep pushing forward for the sake of the generations to come. If the people fight back, they truly pay for doing so with their lives at times, but I give them so much credit for their service. I am hoping to become a loud and helpful voice for the Rohingya people, because when the brave raise their voice, they are met with beatings, abductions and are in the path of danger for doing so. Now that is bravery. I want to raise awareness so other’s around the world will do the same. In my eyes,  the Rohingya people are warriors and survivalists. They survive a inhumane life on a daily basis that no one deserves. I have gotten to know some of the Rohingya People in some of the the refugee camps and have formed bonds and friendships with some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. So many are like family to me.

Education, writing, poetry and photography have become an outlet for the youth of the Rohingya and even a form of healing.  Only with awareness and help from other countries will the Rohingya get justice and hopefully a safe passage back to their homeland and a safe environment for them in their own country which they miss so much. These people have changed my life.  I love so much deeper and appreciate things so much more.  I was humbled by these friends I made. I have benefited greatly by meeting so many wonderful, loving, and extremely determined and forgiving people. The story now turns to one very young and brave man, and my friend, Faisal Justin, who had the drive and determination to change his destiny, and I am very honored to have him tell his story in his own words. I could never tell this story as well as he could. Thank you Faisal, for agreeing to tell your story.

Kristy Raines kristyaraines@yahoo.com
www.facebook.com/gypsyways57

Title: From Discrimination to Freedom: A Journey of Hope and Resilience  ~Faisal Justin~

I was born and grew up in Key Nouck Thi village, Arakan state of Myanmar. By age 14, the tantalizing taste of freedom would forever elude my eager grasp. My childhood was a tragic nightmare and a pitiable existence that no soul should ever endure. We were forever confined into 3-4 kilometers encompassed by police checkpoints all around. It necessitated arduous permissions from the authorities to go and stay a night in a relative house in another village. The prospect of venturing into the neighboring city was strictly prohibited for those who, like me, hailed from a Muslim family and owned a title Rohingya. I spent my childhood full of insecurity for the fear of military as there were no choice for them to use as a slave. When I was a child, my parents used to console me by saying “Stop crying, my child, for the police are coming” from a very young age the deep-rooted fear of police placed in my heart.

“School is a place where teachers teach students the difference between flaws and rights” instead we were taught discrimination in school. We had to sit separately in the school benches between Buddhist students and Muslim students as instructed by the teachers. And often faced harassment from the opposite students and the teachers didn’t accept the complaints at all. Unbelievable but bitter truth. The Buddhist students held a privileged status while the Rohingya students were treated as second-class students. It’s totally heartbreaking to articulate the oppressive atmosphere extended beyond our educational institution, with police brutality, forced labor, and unspeakable violence perpetrated against my people. I still remember when I was class six, I returned from the tuition in the evening and then went to play football near my home. Suddenly, a group of military entered the village and collected bamboos from our yards. We were called from the playground and forced to carry those bamboos to the river in their boats. Regardless of the age and status, they used as salves.

My educational dream was vanished in 2017 when I was just a matriculation student. On Friday night in August 25, 2017, the militaries started gun shooting towards our homes, it was like hearing the sound of Christmas fireworks. I frighteningly woke up and wondered if I was in a nightmare but it was in real. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed and homes were burned down to the ground. I had no hope of surviving in this world and I was quite sure that my dead was on that Friday. I already recited the dead Dua and ready to die with that gun bullets as there were no ways to rescue myself. There were also records that the whole families were killed. The 10th day of journey to Bangladesh refugee camps was something that awakens my heart every second. Through muddy roads and slippery high mountains consumed our tears and blood during monsoon, heavy rain and thunderstorms. It was the hardest thing we’ve ever found leaving home and looking back around stepping slowly filled with tears and heartache. My eyes witnessed that hundreds of thousands of our people were killed even during our journey to finding refuge and some of us were fortunate enough to escape the massacre and sought refuge in neighboring Bangladesh.

I’ll remain ever grateful to the welcoming country Bangladesh for giving a place of refuge in their country while we were fighting with our lives.

“Being a refugee was not a choice.  By fate I needed to be.”

I can’t describe in words how bad it feels to having a refugee life and having a refugee status. The Bangladesh refugee camp was a place of desperation, with overcrowded tents, curfews, scarcity of food, and rampant criminal activity within. The loss of formal education for children and the constant fear of abduction added further challenges to an already dire situation. $8 per month for a person, can you imagine how a person can survive on 8 US dollars the whole month? Many suffered from starvation and also many lacked basic necessities.

I’ve worked as a humanitarian and social worker for ICR (International Rescue Committee) and ACF (Action Contre la Fame). I was a teacher, sharing what I know with the community was my liability. I listened to everyone’s stories in the camp by monitoring door to door when I worked for NGOs. I was so devastated hearing all the awful and obstacles in the lives of my people. I couldn’t help but feel. I found a new challenge every single day that demotivated me to even give up on life. The perpetrators in the camp abhorred educated people, gave death threats and sometimes some even carried them out. Such a distressing situation forced me to leave the camp by any means possible.

Driven by a desire for freedom and a better life, I discussed with my family and left the camp. I can’t forget the moment I stepped on the little boat and the waves badly shoved and lifted the boat. The boat was more likely to sink in the middle of the sea and that was another moment of my life when I lost hope of my life. With a very narrow mind and relentlessly calling upon God, finally I could get my destination. This treacherous journey took one night and one day across the sea to ultimately find Sittwe, a city in Arakan state. I was playing with my life and took very serious risk while I was going to Yangon the bustling capital of Myanmar from Sittwe after one week with a fake ID by plane.

However, life in Yangon presented its own set of challenges, from language barriers to lack of legal documentations. Forced to rely on the kindness of relatives, I navigated these adversities and eventually obtained a national identity card, which became a turning point in my journey. People who don’t know about me think I had the best life in Yangon. My life in Yangon was the worst of my life so far. I was in constant fear of the police without proper documentation, belonging a Muslim face and staying in someone else’s house. As a very sensitive man, I can’t tolerate sharp words from others but I had to bear according to the situations.

After six months, I went to the passport office to get a passport. Unfortunately, the authorities knew I was a fake guy trying to make a passport. My life was then in their hands, I was threatened a lot. After few hours they agreed to release me with money fine. The day passed and I returned home. I can’t explain by words how bad I felt as my life was at risk even to stay at home and my relatives were also afraid of keeping me. I had nowhere to go and I often decided to give up on my life.

With determination fueling my patience and actions, I sought an opportunity to escape my troubled past and made another attempt to make a passport with an agent after two months. With the help of the agent, I obtained a passport.

I embarked on a heart-stopping journey to leave my fearful country Myanmar. Faced with the constant fear of being discovered due to language barriers and fake documents during immigrating Myanmar airport, my life was in a very serious risk and danger. But along with God’s help I could overcome the fear and could cross all those limits. My resilience and bravery were tested at every step.

I came to Thailand by plane from Myanmar and tried hard for a Netherlands visa, I failed terribly. I couldn’t get a visa. I went to four different countries just to get a Netherlands visa. I got one from a country and I was so excited but when my time came to attend the plane I was inhumanely rejected saying you’re not eligible for the Netherlands. My world was shattered and I almost felt unconscious. However, I did not give up trying to seek asylum in the Netherlands. I made one more attempt from another country then I got approved fortunately. And then I arrived at the Netherlands airport and asked for asylum.

The arrival in the Netherlands marks the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Grateful for the opportunities and support provided by the Dutch government, I find solace and peace in my newfound refuge. The process of seeking asylum may be long, but I express my heartfelt gratitude for the freedom and safety I have found in this welcoming country.

Looking back on my arduous journey, I reflect on the invaluable lessons I have learned throughout this transformative experience. My unwavering determination and resilience have taught me the power of perseverance and the ability to overcome even the most daunting obstacles. I express my eternal gratitude to the Netherlands and share my belief in the importance of embracing diversity and extending a helping hand to those in need.

In concluding my remarkable story, I leave readers with a message of hope and a reminder that, despite the challenges we face, anything is possible with a brave and willing heart. By standing up for one’s dreams and never giving up, individuals can triumph over the darkest of circumstances. My poignant tale may encourage readers to remember the importance of empathy, compassion, and the pursuit of a better world for all.

Update~

After a year in the Netherlands, I see yet another massive massacre in Arakan like I saw in 2017. I’m deeply saddened and distressed by the plight of the Rohingya’s in Arakan, Myanmar. It’s not so easy to be born in Myanmar where religion matters, race matters, face matters, above all being born as a Muslim is a big crime for the brutal government. Since decades, the government has been persecuting the Rohingya people and now again AA (Arakan Army) a terrorist group of Rakhine ethnic who are trying to take over Arakan are persecuting the Rohingya people. Dozens of people are killed every day, houses are burnt down. Thousands of people are now homeless in the town of Bhuthidang since the AA set fire to the entire town in May 2024. People had to leave the homes they loved and thousands died at the same time. Imagine hundreds and thousands of people staying on the ground without a roof in the baking heat with no food and even humanitarian actors with no way to reach them for some livelihood. All the roads are blocked by the AA and they take pleasure in seeing the suffering of these defenseless people.

The horrific acts of violence and brutality by the AA and military are truly heartbreaking. I’m very saddened and angry to see the profound suffering experienced by the innocent Rohingya victims. The pain and anguish felt by young girls being raped, young people being arrested or disappearing, and children losing their parents and then turning into orphans are genuinely heart-wrenching. I’m furious to see both AA and military taking refuge in Rohingya’s villages by the intention of harming innocent Rohingya people. Thousands of people died during the war and conflict between AA and military. Rohingya youths are arrested by the military and then used them as human shield during war against AA. In due time the AA burnt down the houses of Rohingya and brutally tortured. It clearly highlights how the innocent are often caught in the crossfire of political and ideological battles.

Their true intention is to clear all the Rohingya people from Arakan. The brutal killings and targeted violence aimed at wiping out the Rohingya people speak to a larger, more insidious plan to eradicate an entire group of people. The way they are killing now inhumanly, all the people will finish very soon. It’s a gentle reminder of the urgent need for the global community to step in and take decisive action to protect the fundamental rights and dignity of all individuals, regardless of their background or ethnicity or who they are. It is a reminder that the world must unite in solidarity to confront and address these grave injustices before it is too late.     – Faisal Justin

A Day in A Refugee Camp

 As the sun rises and sets

Baking heat waves on the roof

The tents that are too small

Skins boil under tarpaulins

Family gathering suffocates

A day in refugee camp isn’t easy

With limited head-count rations

The desire to have something died

 For they have rations not income

A day is long and very hopeful

And is filled with waiting and fret

A life that goes with full of tears

Children play in the dirt,

With the mud as the toys.

Their education is obscure And the future is uncertain

Parents smile through tears

Trying to make the children happy

With fears, stress and anxiety

A life in refugee camp passes by

Wondering what tomorrow will bring

For a life and future that is unsure

Since they’re displaced from home,

And forced to migrate violently.

The sun will rise again tomorrow

Another day in the camp will begin

With the same hope and fears

Constantly dream of a better life

The outside world is just an illusion

And always yearn to live a peaceful life

In conclusion, I would like to thank Faisal Justin for sharing his story of hope and bravery, with the world.  This was truly an amazing journey to not only a new life, but also to many more opportunities.   His story will no doubt inspire others to hold tight to their dreams and to never give up.

 It is also my hope, Faisal,  that your story will also help others around the world understand the Rohingya people, the horrific crimes committed against them that still going on today, the crisis in the refugee camps, and the ongoing suffering of the Rohingya people. I wish for justice for what they have gone through  and hope in the future there will be a complete resolution for them, with one day, a safe return to their homeland, Arakan.

Faisal,  You are now in a safe and healthy environment, my friend.  I hope you will now be able to lead a beautiful and happy new life. It was a pleasure working together on this story, Faisal.  Thank you..

-Kristy Raines-

If anyone is  interested in donating to help the Rohingya people, there are many Go-Fund-Me campaigns online, collecting funds to help in aiding different needs of the Rohingya people.  Some are emergency campaigns, some are for the women, and some are for the education of the children.  Just go to Gofundme.com and type in the search, “Rohingya”.  Many campaigns will show up and you can choose whose campaign you’d like to donate to. For me, they are the best choice.  I feel more comfortable that my money is actually going to the people.

You can also find Faisal’s books on Amazon.

For more information, please visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C to see exhibition in person,  or go to the site to see and see it.  Here is the link.

Harvest

at night the brain loves to torment me
talking to the one not here

in my body I’m trying to crawl out of my body
I’m coming to get you

night draws a bow across the brain
throat bores a hole into everything I say to you

in my body you’re trying to crawl out of your body
room piled to the ceiling with thread

the brain loves to be tied up
fireflies disappear in late August 




To do

well tomorrow there won’t be any beautiful distance
between you and the still lives of hours

at least today the brain’s not watching
far above your head a jet squeals as it splits the sky

if you’ve got time to think about
the sky and what harms it
maybe you could walk farther away

maybe you could stitch back together
what’s left of the ground under your feet




The day Pan died

the day Pan died it sunshined
then puckered up like I insulted her

alright I’ll let you cut me

the day Pan died wildflowers rioted in ditches
foaming stalled white over deer bone grin

when she smiles at us broken animals
when we smile back with crowds of teeth

I tried my best as a sullied tongue
seeking what the pipes implied
soft piles drifting

we had to make everything with our hands
even our hands


The novitiate

in sleep country we count stars behind our eyes
dark engines that gasp and spark over our heads
on a pinched afternoon I’m lazy with cloud-cover

in the dark I pause at the screen door
drenched in longing from the beat of crickets
everything I will never be just out of reach

what god could be trusted with the color blue
that didn’t slip out of the woods
what novitiate lilts in bourbon-bronze fumes

on the hissing roads of sleep country we billow
our gods made of the blood of dog days
the willow sobs on my bare chest

everything I’ve ever been runs down our legs
waiting for you to fall out of the woods

As a child, on interstate trips, Lewis LaCook thought the moon was following his family’s Econoline van. Upon reaching adulthood, he couldn’t tell whether the truth disappointed or relieved him, so he started writing things down. Some of these things looked like poems, and they may have appeared in journals like Anti-Heroin Chic,  Lost And Found Times, Otoliths,Unlikely Stories,Whiskey Tit, Lotus-eater, Synchronized Chaos, Argotist Online Poetry, Medusa’s Kitchen, Reapthrill, Exist Otherwise  and Slope, among others. In 2012 BlazeVOX published Beyond the Bother of Sunlight, a book-length collaboration with Sheila E. Murphy; previously, Anabasis published his book-length poem Cling. His collection My Kinship with the Lotus-eaters was published in 2022 by BlazeVOX.(http://wp.blazevox.org/product/my-kinship-with-the-lotus-eaters-by-lewis-lacook/) Lewis can often be found wandering the wilds of Western New York state with his wife Lindsay.