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)