Poetry from J.J. Campbell

White man with a beard and glasses and a beard and a mustache. He's in a room with some music and movie posters on the walls. He has a Black Lives Matter tee shirt with purple text on a black background.
Poet J.J. Campbell
a broken world left to explode
wishes dance lightly
on the edge of a broken
world left to explode
dreams of beauty or
neon nights of wonder and
magic fills the air
sorrow, my only
friend that still even cares to
listen to echoes
of love and tragic
loss of any reminder
of whatever hope
kept us alive in
this darkened hell full of those
that wish us endless
harm and grave closure
to the dream of leaving the
shade of lonely love
every heartbreak over the years
these are the nights
where your demons
start to play favorites
where they start to conspire
with the section of the brain
that holds all that shit you
can't escape from your youth
every glass is every
heartbreak over
the years
losing your virginity
to some whore that
has a name you can't
having a drink thrown
on you in a restaurant
after a dirty joke
a plate of food dumped
on you by "accident"
the scars from the first woman
that you didn't pull out in time
for and her tears that still ring
in your ears
you can see all the marks
you want to dig up and
down your arms
all the places where a needle
could fill the damn void already
the shotgun has been resting
in the corner for years now
the demons always know

when it's time
other intentions
i offered to buy
this woman dinner
she obviously thought
i had other intentions
i said no
the steak is on sale
and i'm sure i'll have
a few drinks
but since your mind
went directly to sex
who knows what the
night may hold for us
that was a $75 dinner

i'll never forget
on a stormy saturday night
she was an old soul
from such a tender age
we would laugh as she
smoked old cigarettes
on a stormy saturday night
she had legs that i always
wanted to wrap around
my head three times
i have always had the
problem of falling in
love with lesbians
she was no different
a little cruel at times
when she would blow me
kisses and flash a little
more thigh as i was
trying to play pool
i got drunk enough one night
that i told her everything
from the dirty dreams
to the lovely poems
to how her perfume stays
with me for weeks on end
i never saw her again
after that night
i'm sure she went on
to make some woman
very happy

over and over again
the simple dreams
it's these cold winter
nights in my bed alone,
dreaming of a quiet death
wondering how you are doing
on the other side of the world
never feeling sorry for myself
but also wondering how much
losing does one soul have
to overcome
a few rays of sunshine
a phone call that isn't
looking for money
a howling wind creeping
around every corner
right next door to death
the stubborn never go easy
i'll fall asleep in your arms
tonight, humming a jill scott
what i wouldn't give to make
just the simple dreams come


J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) was raised by wolves yet managed to graduate high school with honors. He’s been widely published over the last quarter century, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, Terror House Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Beatnik Cowboy and Dumpster Fire Press. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

1 thought on “Poetry from J.J. Campbell

  1. I have a woman like the one in “on a stormy saturday night.” Her perfume stayed with me as well. Wonderful poem.

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