drinking with
the devil at
three in the
morning
the elders
once told me
that nothing
good happens
at these hours
they apparently
never found
the beauty in
the ugly truth
on the other
side of the
coin
the vagrants
the would be
criminals
drunken
philosophers
and women
just as lonely
as you are
good is a
subjective
thought on
nights like
these
The Joy of Being a Writer
watched a
woman this
morning stick
an ice cube
in her asshole
and watched
another woman
make herself
gag on a
dildo
all in the
name of
research
At the Top of This Burning Empire
a tangerine nightmare
of biblical proportion
an aching kiss on the
hand of a lover that
lost sight of you too
many moons ago to
even remember
the crushing defeat
of time and the
bruised ego
perhaps the victims
will have the courage
to lash out and change
the world
though we all know
that will only happen
if the powers that be
allow it to
another sip of lilac
wine
ready my chair at the
top of this burning
empire
i know three damn
chords, auto tune
and a drum machine
but my vinyl soul will
never truly enjoy the
ever increasing digital
matrix i'm slowly being
swallowed by
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) lives, writes but mostly dies a little each day on a farm in Brookville, Ohio. He's been widely published over the years, most notably at Chiron Review, Thunder Sandwich, Zygote in My Coffee, and Nerve Cowboy. His first full length collection of poetry is scheduled for release in 2012 from Interior Noise Press. You can contact J.J. via email jcampb4593@aol.com or at his homepage http://sites.google.com/site/
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