Five Poems by J.J. Campbell

 

take my ball and go

 

i've spent a good

portion of my life

in silence

 

fighting the urge

to tell the world

to fuck off, take

my ball and go

the fuck home

 

but it's not like

forcing myself

into public has

actually paid

off for me

 

it only means

the poems

include a few

different faces

 

the pain never

changes

delinquents

 

i remember

the first rush

of adrenaline

when you are

being shot at

while running

through a field

 

you don't have

to be the fastest,

just quicker than

the slowest friend

 

thankfully

 

no one we lived

around was a

good shot

day old bread toasted

 

slipping dirty looks through the fog

 

sweet kisses in the dirty air

 

she met me on the street near

my favorite bookstore

 

we looked at furniture and old clocks

 

we stopped by a hole in the wall

for a bite to eat

 

day old bread toasted with

some trendy jam

 

i'm not from this world

 

i'm an old soul that tends to get lost

in whatever hip shit this is called today

 

still wearing flannel

 

humming lyrics to a smashing pumpkins

song

 

she laughed, started singing them

 

two old souls with all these years

and miles between us

 

we'll share our first kiss in the neon

glow of some broken street light

 

a bit of rain still hanging on

 

enough warmth to get us through

a dreary night

in this fleeting life

 

i love you can sometimes

be like trying to walk on

razor wire

 

you hope all the pain is

worth it in the end

 

i've been lucky enough

to reach the other side

a time or two

 

but as is everything in

this fleeting life nothing

lasted long enough, at

least for me

 

now, i'm sure those

women are laughing

 

barely have any memories

of me at all

 

i remember every kiss

 

every corny ass line

 

and every last goodbye

 

i suppose i am a glutton

for punishment

 

there always could be

worse ways to have to

spend your life

 

and what is the point

of having a great tolerance

for pain if you never get

to use it

i knew it was the drugs talking

 

i remember being stabbed in the big

toe and never drinking with a marine

ever again

 

hobbled down to my buddy's house

and he used a bottle of peroxide

on the wound

 

and giggled as i bit down on a

ragged ass towel

 

i never had the guts to ask him

what he used that towel for

 

a few days later

 

i limped into a smashing pumpkins

concert

 

all my friends were dancing

i was over to the side

 

this beautiful young woman

started talking to me

 

and right as my courage started

to grow a younger friend came

over and told me i had to get out

there, it was amazing

 

i knew it was the drugs talking

 

i turned around and she was gone

 

the band played soma and this

fragile life got the first glimpse

of what being a poet is really like

J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is trapped in the suburbs, plotting his escape. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Synchronized Chaos, Horror Sleaze Trash, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Asylum Floor and Misfit Magazine. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

https://evildelights.blogspot.com

https://soundcloud.com/j-j-campbell

https://goodreads.com/jjthepoet