J.J. Campbell

more than just blood

slice open a vein and hope
to find more than just blood

any good poet bleeds on the
page

it’s all soul and guts and the
nerve to push any boundary
they have deemed imaginary

you can imagine why there
are so many bad poets out
there

not willing to take a chance

not willing to be naked in
front of the world

afraid that their faults make
them weird or unlovable

and thusly, they tend to
forget that all poets are
weird and unlovable

that’s where the poetry
comes from

finding comfort in rage

finding joy in darkness

watching the beautiful
die and finding the
courage to laugh

you can’t be scared and
call yourself a poet

poets are rebels, masters
of the dark arts

the only justice that works

as dark as the middle of the night

i drank the tears
of dead souls
hoping to find
magic in the
past

i had to wash
my mouth out
with whiskey
to get the full
effect

i slept in a graveyard
once under the stars
that seemed to be
accepting me into
my final resting
place

you’d be amazed at
the number of people
i have disappointed
by simply waking
up for the next day

and when the thoughts
get as dark as the middle
of the night

danger is near

i once had a lover
remove all the knifes
from the house and
hide them in one of
the barns

figures

she was into women
more than men

i never have recovered

turns to black

cracking open
a coconut on a
tropical island

soft brown skin
waiting naked
on a beach for
me

and as soon as
i get to the beach,
the earth turns to
black and i’m
falling to a place
i’m sure i’ll know
one of these days

i used to wake
up in a sweat
after these
dreams

now i know it
only means i
better get up
to piss

these are the
good sheets

 

J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) was raised by wolves and now is trapped in suburbia. He's been widely published at Midnight Lane Boutique, Rusty Truck, In Between Hangovers, Horror Sleaze Trash and Synchronized Chaos. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (http://evildelights.blogspot.com)