Five Poems by J.J. Campbell

 

this fragile soul

 

here comes the rain again

 

more misery for the arthritic

fucker trapped within this

fragile soul

 

what is a day without pain

 

swimming with sharks

 

wondering how much

disappointment can one

endure before the obvious

must be asked

 

the left arm is aching again

 

you can only wish it is

a heart attack

 

may it be sudden and

painful

 

death is often referred

to as a good career move

 

i'd like to think of it as

a means to no longer

have to pick up the

phone

destined to take over the world

 

pretend you actually enjoy this

 

that the poems are your way

of communicating with a world

you want to participate in

 

pretend love is actually on your side

 

that the muse wants you to succeed

 

embrace like old lovers, destined

to take over the world

 

pretend you haven't wasted

all these years

 

wondering why you can't be perfect

 

wondering why no woman ever has

you in mind when the call for prince

charming goes out

 

pretend these scars are just accidents

instead of cries for help

 

pretend a christian didn't tell you

that you deserved to be molested

as a child as god doesn't make

mistakes

 

pretend this didn't start out as

a suicide note

 

pretend someone actually gives

a fuck

 

rest easy

 

we all know the truth

misgivings

 

purple flowers

cushion the blow

of the broken soul

battered to the

ground

 

hope is gone

 

ashes of it rest

with all these

discarded

spoons

 

no one gives

a shit about

an epidemic

when there

is money to

be made off

of it

 

parade your

dead children

around in some

twisted glory

fuck for your

own misgivings

as parents

 

anger is

knowing

they beat

you to the

punch

icy water beneath

 

pour a drink for all the

lost souls

 

all these tired fucks

longing for a tall bridge

and icy water beneath

 

no one likes a jumper

 

fuck off, if they wanted

opinions they would have

a column in some failing

newspaper

 

it has to be like this

 

tragic

 

unending

 

a bit of chaos confused

with a love never found

 

a saxophone wails in

the distance

 

charlie parker once told

me to dance like death

was right around the

corner

 

the love of my life pulled

a gun on me that night

 

somehow

 

we still haven't got

divorced

a nation of assholes

 

sometimes, the pain

wins

 

love can't reach the

dark corners of the

heart

 

a broken bottle on

some desolate street

 

all the angels have

broken wings and

no desire to be good

anymore

 

you remember when

the neon used to light

up this place for miles

 

now, just another set of

alleys for the homeless

and whomever needs

a fix

 

on most days, you can

find the needles still

in the arms

 

body bags like trash

 

which is what most

people think of it all

 

a nation of assholes

 

determined to spread

that disease to the rest

of the world

J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is trapped in suburbia wondering where the lonely housewives have gone. He's been recently published at The Rye Whiskey Review, Synchronized Chaos, Horror Sleaze Trash, Disturb the Universe Magazine and The Beatnik Cowboy. He will have a joint book of poems out this summer with C. Renee Kiser. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)