a punishment from my father
another dreary morning
where the sun is like
a whore in church
you know she is there
just not to be seen
at this time
one pill for the pain
take another because
who the fuck actually
wants tomorrow
loneliness is the only
disease i never felt
like fighting
it was always deserved
a punishment from
my father
still seeking his
revenge from the
grave
——————————————————
plenty of stories
mist in the air
a bitter old man fades
from the spotlight
plenty of stories about
abuse and neglect and
what everyone else
would deem as failure
but he has no time for
the feelings of others
life can be as meaningless
as you want it to be if you
so desire
try explaining that in a
driven society where
everyone has to get
theirs
grounds for breeding
loneliness
a tribe of one
comfortable in the chaos
of the modern world
break out the watercolors
dance naked in the kitchen
while pretending bob ross
is actually impressed with
the painting
———————————————————-
money swallows everything whole
a broken wish
upon the darkest
star
the last remnants
of hope in this
world
money swallows
everything whole
and now that hell
is upon us
hacked and stolen
remember the simple
world we were promised
if we kept our heads down,
worked hard and believed
in god
i suppose this is
the reward for
such behavior
looks like a rainy
weekend
hope you haven’t
forgot how to
swim
————————————————————-
all the fun
sometimes the dead
will enter my dreams
and remind me of
what could have
been
cancer took care
of most of it
another lonely night
that will be ending
soon with the patient
coming home
hopefully with better
drugs and healing
bones
and i know the
insurance will
only pay for
a home nurse
for three visits
so, now i get
to have all
the fun
———————————————
drunken mischief
rainy days makes all my
scar tissue happy
misery is never enjoying
the festivities
i trace the scars on my hand,
pretend they are tattoos
the one that hurts the most
is in my right foot
one of those great stories
of drunken mischief
except i didn’t think i was
supposed to be the one
being stabbed
both knees are shot, not literally
shoulders and wrists are
going as well
youth is wasted on the
young, as is wisdom
i figure i have a few good
years left in me
i haven’t had a drink of
booze in three months
not sure if i’m done or
just giving my liver some
time to get ready for the
big push to the finish line
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at The Beatnik Cowboy, Drinkers Only, Mad Swirl, The Rye Whiskey Review and Yellow Mama. His most recent book, to live your dreams, published by Whiskey City Press, is available at Amazon by going here: