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bio
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know where the bodies are buried. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Alien Buddha Zine, Academy Of The Heart And Mind, Under the Bleachers, Horror Sleaze Trash and The Daily Dope Fiend. His most recent chapbook, the taste of blood on christmas morning, was published by Analog Submission Press. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (http://evildelights.blogspot. com)
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another crazy woman
another day
another problem
another crazy woman
another chance for pleasure
another dance with pure fucking evil
another laugh
another set of differences to be set aside
another dream
another look at smoldering eyes
another lick of the lips
another reason to let go
another excuse why you can’t
another glimpse of the sun turning to black
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a suicide saturday
another saturday night alone
i got an email from my mother
32 things you’ll find in every
grandmother’s home
i hit reply
all i remember is my cousin
forcing her nipple into my
mouth when i was four at
my grandmother’s home
send
i haven’t got another email
another bottle of bourbon
another slow, sad song
there’s a voice in the back
of my head that constantly
says no one will miss me
when i’m dead
i laugh
knowing the fucker is right
i grab a pen and paper
one of these nights it will
be for the purpose i am
currently trying to avoid
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the robots
the robots have taken
over the factories
the robots are now
taking over the
bedrooms and
everything related
to love
when the robots learn
how to write good
poetry
i’ll truly be fucked
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the most wonderful time of the year
bomb scare
starts off the
news at noon
today
the holidays
are truly here
now
an old man will
die from running
a generator indoors
and surely a christmas
tree will burn down
a house
fear and nutmeg
and a damn fruitcake
that no one is willing
to even think to eat
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to call out in pain
another sunset alone
on the back porch
watching the kids
a few doors down
enjoy their youth
all my friends
have moved away
and are busy with
their families
another holiday
weekend where
i sit in my room
and listen for my
mother to call out
in pain
soon, the alcohol
will take over
the evening and
there will be a
final attempt at
something called
life
i’m used to going
to bed disappointed
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J.J. Campbell
51 Urban Ln.
Brookville, OH 45309-9277
Your writing reminds me of my life experiences. You use words to shape feelings that reflect my understanding of life.
Really liked ‘A Suicide Saturday’, loved the bleak honesty of it. Great poem.