———————————————————————–
at a hospital
cold sunshine
must be another
day stuck at a
hospital for
testing
a cough of death
behind me in the
waiting area
i learned at an
early age no place
on earth can get
you sick like
a hospital
no wonder my
mother would
prefer to die
at home
———————————————————–
ever really existed
nearly four in the morning
struggling to find the words
you have stumbled into
a dream that a little boy
once had where his
demons allowed him
to go out and play and
discover if fun ever
really existed
a trap where there never
is a right answer
and that’s where we
fall back into reality
all these questions
all these zombies
and then let the drugs
calm you
cradle you into the light
a soft, majestic embrace
two more trips around
the sun and then we
shall celebrate
a new beginning
once again
—————————————————————
all the naughty fun to be had
i remember that night
in chicago
that tall beautiful black
woman on stage
talked with the kind of
accent that immediately
made you think of some
island thousands of miles
away and all the naughty
fun to be had on a beach
after a few drinks, swear
she was making eyes with
me
of course, her six foot five
white boyfriend was standing
right behind me
i quickly figured out whom
the eyes were for
i went to the bar and ordered
a double, sat down and laughed
even with the little confidence
i had in my 20’s, there’s no
fucking way a woman like
that would be going for me
a quarter century later
not much has fucking
changed
——————————————————————–
paper and pen
everyone buried
in their phones
yet i’m the weird
fuck using paper
and pen
scribbling poems
making himself
laugh with a funny
line
if i was as weird
as people think
i would never
go out in public
and from the looks
of a few people
they wouldn’t
mind that
————————————————————-
any amount of power
and here comes the raging
underbelly of america
election day
no use trusting anyone
with any amount of
power
and all i ever wanted
to know
who is going to get all
those fucking signs off
the side of the roads
i don’t need to see the
names of the losers peeking
through the snow in a few
weeks from now
i remember telling a friend
in high school if i ever run
for office, that would be
my only promise
the day after the election
i would take down every
one of my signs
sadly, given the current
state of politics
that might actually work
JJ Campbell (1976 – ?) is stuck in suburbia, plotting his escape. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at The Beatnik Cowboy, Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review, Misfit Magazine and Yellow Mama. You can find him most days taking care of his disabled mother while trying to do everything else at the same time. He tries to maintain his blog, although he rarely has time to write on it. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)