———————————————————————
a river of disappointment
caught in a river
of disappointment
fading sun
the star spangled
light ceases to
exist
get in line, do
your job
creativity withers
at the butt of a gun
but there’s always
one soul
one vagrant that
defies the odds
bound and determined
to crash the gates
raise a little hell
for good
what people tend
to forget
when you get to
the end of the rope
and hope has left
the building
living is no longer
an option
so it isn’t a matter
of dying for a cause
or dying trying to
break free
it is only a matter
that you do
————————————————————
a medical condition
an only fans model
messaged me yesterday
and asked why she gets
wet when she reads
my poetry
i laughed and was getting
ready to message her back
and tell her she might have
a medical condition
but then my ego came running
into the room and knocked me
out of the way and typed
because they are good
that fucker doesn’t know
how to play anything slow
but, i also know he
is mostly correct
now if she could only
send some pictures or
videos so my ego could
really enjoy his victory
——————————————————–
this lost soul
another bland
waiting room
just me and
my thoughts
freud starts
laughing
wonders what
painting will i
turn into a
vagina
of course, it’s
the one across
from me
drowning in
my loneliness
wondering if
this lost soul
is all i will
ever be
hope is
a stripper
with loose
morals
desire is
getting up
each morning
and ignoring
the pain
when both run
extremely thin
as my old friend
would say
it’s just waiting
around to die
———————————————————-
through the cracks of life
love always seems
to squeeze through
the cracks of life
when you least
expect it
and then you
wonder oh shit
where does this
fit in
and it’s not that
you don’t want
it to
but there are only
a certain number
of hours in the day
between the micro
and the macro you
almost get just
enough sleep
to exist
and now love
that essential need
for most of us
squeeze it in
it will work out
at least until
it doesn’t
———————————————————-
while giving death the finger
sunken eyes
cheating death
as best as you can
beauty queens never
age well these days
another shot of
something strong
fuck cancer
one last dance while
giving death the finger
let the mind wander
into a field of endless
possibilities
remember the jazz
clubs
long cigarettes
a flirty little skirt
and a bunch of
hungry animals
wanting a piece
wipe the tears
and think fondly
of what these kids
will never know
one last glance
the longest goodbye
i’ll make sure the
roses are always
fresh
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the last 30 years, most recently at Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, Misfit Magazine and Yellow Mama. Hopefully, he will have a new collection of poems out soon. He does still have a blog, although he rarely has time to write on it. such is life. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)