Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Middle aged white guy with a beard, blonde hair, and reading glasses wearing a big orange tee shirt. He's in a room in front of a wall full of posters and a nightstand with cologne bottles and a rose.
J.J. Campbell
consumed with death

they say i talk about

death too much


that all this doom is

not good for my soul


that makes me laugh


my life has been

consumed with

death since i was

four years old


imagine understanding

the concept fully before

ever going to kindergarten


don't get me wrong


i love love


love women, especially

the ones that love me


i would do anything to be

consumed by that but i am

not a lucky soul


i know my number will be

pulled soon enough


i don't have the money to live

like tomorrow doesn't exist


if that changes, oh boy


i might finally know what life

is like living by the seat of

your pants
cigarettes and cheap booze

fell asleep last night to

nina simone singing in

my ear


calling me a white devil

and making me laugh


under the piano in some

bar in paris


cigarettes and cheap

booze in the air


longing for the days

twenty years before

i was born


only for the music



i have no use for the

caveman thoughts in



give me some chaos

of jazz and my animal

feels the only comfort

it finds possible
in early march

three dead after a tornado

hits indian lake in early



imagine that


a bunch of idiots that

don't believe in climate

change get hit by a

massive tornado, but

not in the summer


my empathy is getting

harder to find
across from the bathroom

sitting across from

the bathroom in the

waiting room here

at the hospital


if i was a junkie

or if i was in rehab

for being one


i can imagine this

could be quite the



for me, i'm just

hoping i don't

have the need

to take a shit


the waiting room

is getting crowded
for a rainy night

the old songs of leonard cohen certainly

set the mood for a rainy night


she had the longest legs you had ever

seen on a woman


fishnets, she must have read the poems


she would dangle her foot up against

my knee, hitting it playfully from

time to time


i whispered in her ear, as seductively as i could,

that if she kept this up, she was going to get

in trouble


right then, her husband called her name

from the kitchen


i laughed


she came back and handed me a glass of scotch,

whispered in my ear that she wasn't wearing

any panties


i licked my lips and took a sip, playfully placed

my hand on her thigh and started to slowly



she was telling the truth


i put that finger in my mouth and told her

she tasted like the morning dew


we slipped out into another room

and started to kiss


her husband found us right before all

the good shit started to happen


he asked me to leave before

he found the shotgun


i took the scotch with me

J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is old enough to know better. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Black Coffee Review, The Asylum Floor, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Rye Whiskey Review and The Beatnik Cowboy. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

2 thoughts on “Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Leave a Reply

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