from miles away
 

here come the dog days

of summer

 

days of sunshine and the

occasional thunderstorm

or tornado

 

i miss the days on the farm

 

where you could see something

rolling in from miles away

 

enough time for the cats

to run and panic

 

the birds to get that last

bit out of the feeders

 

enough time for me to grab

a stiff drink and settle down

on the front porch for the

show
----------------------------------------------------------------
yet another tragedy
 

another day

another school

shooting

 

yet another tragedy

we have grown

numb to

 

everyone knows

how this plays out

 

calls for gun reform

and the money goes

to make sure it never

happens

 

doesn't matter the

school or the race

of the victims, etc.

 

we are slaves to

whatever the rich

can get away with

 

no matter how much

we believe we can or

will change things
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
more useful advice
 

had the joy of sharing

a bottle of liquor with

a homeless man back

in my early twenties

 

he gave me more useful

advice than my fucking

father ever did

 

i remember that conversation

behind the old arby's like

it was yesterday

 

easily worth the price of

a bottle of jack daniels

and two packs of cigarettes

 

never had to think twice

about old hookers or ever

being worried about any

dark alleys
------------------------------------------------------------------------
a bunch of old people
 

the haze from

the wild fires

is back for

round two

 

living around

a bunch of old

people

 

i'm waiting

for them to

start dropping

like flies if it

doesn't rain

or clear out

soon

 

not exactly

the kind of

entertainment

i'm hoping

for looking

out my front

window
----------------------------------------------------------------------
racing down your bad back
 

three in the morning

 

hot water racing down

your bad back

 

nothing legal touches

the pain anymore

 

there aren't many

options left, at least

in this state so far

 

you doubt there is

a THC level that

eases this

 

you're not sure how

many organs you

would need to sell

for a morphine drip

 

and no one is just

casually giving when

it comes to heroin or

cocaine for relieving

the pain

 

and there are the

moments where

it gets bleak

 

you still have no

clue what keeps

you going

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 Horror Sleaze Trash, The Beatnik Cowboy, Disturb the Universe Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and The Rye Whiskey Review. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)