SELECTED POETRY

by
J.J. Campbell

HOW I PASS THE DAY

jerking off to the barely
legal internet video vixen
teasing me, showing a little
more skin, rubbing on her
pink panties

telling me if i would drop
some cash i could see all
of her ass

i politely decline
explaining to her
that my imagination
keeps me out of such
needless bullshit

i click on the x
and go get a towel

it's nearing time
for my afternoon
nap

© J.J. Campbell

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THE SOUNDTRACK OF MY DEPRESSION

leonard cohen is wrapping
up on stage while tom waits
sips on a jack and coke over
in the corner

nick cave is chatting up some
sexy young thing at the bar
while jeff buckley feverishly
puts quarters in the jukebox with
a ghostly smile on his pale face

i turn to see warren zevon
sitting down at the piano

i laugh a little, know things
are about to get really
fucking interesting

soon the man in black will be
trading tortured lines with a
grunge prophet while the blues
legends i never had a chance
to meet or see tell old stories
of clubs in the deep south
"when i paint my masterpiece"
starts to filter through the smoke
filled room and there is a certain
pause in the air

were the good times truly
that good or were the bad
really that bad

better yet, does either matter
at all

my days are full of music and
as these four walls tighten their
grip on me

the soundtrack of my depression
at least makes the inevitable
seconds bearable

© J.J. Campbell

---

FOR CONFUSED IN CALIFORNIA

i'll never be able to imagine
what you have gone through
or what your future holds

i only hope that when it
comes the time for you to
meet that future you do so
with a sense of peace
a willingness to fail and a
drive to simply exist

all the while knowing that
those that love you do so
endlessly and without a list
of conditions

forever believing in your
talent, even when you have
given up on it

please remember, only dance
with the demons when you
get to lead

you give those fuckers an
inch and well, you've lived
the rest

no need for me
to explain

be well

take care

and until our lips
meet again on
the face of an
unknowing god,

love as if the
existence
of the world
depended on it

© J.J. Campbell

---

I WAS HOPING YOU WERE A LOSER

some fat chick from
the other side of the
state sent me an
instant message today

she said she was bored

being the whore i am
i sent her some links
to my poetry

she replied back after
reading them saying
she was disappointed

that's not a first
i thought to myself

she was disappointed
that i had talent and that
she enjoyed the poems

a pleasant twist from
where i thought the
conversation was
going to go

i told her thanks and
asked her why would
she be disappointed in
me having talent, was
she hoping i was a loser

she said yes, i was
hoping you were
a loser so i could
take advantage
of you

you can imagine where
the conversation
went from there

© J.J. Campbell

---

AT JUST THE PERFECT ANGLE

i called my sister the other
day and told her i was in
the shower earlier, bent
at the waist soaping up
my feet and the water
was hitting my asshole
at just the perfect angle

then i let out a fart that
quite frankly, it made
the sound that fat people
make when fucking

trust me, i know that sound

i could hear some uncomfortable
laughter on her end

i continued, told her it was
one of those farts that you
just knew had a nasty shit
coming 10 seconds later

so there i was, ass cheeks
clinched as tight as they can be,
trying my best to finish my
shower while hoping not to spray
shit all over the walls and the tub

as i finished i could hear
her laughing uneasily and
she told me i needed help

i laughed and wished
her a good day

i know these phone calls
aren't earning me any
favours or moving me up
the food chain of her will

but the 30 seconds of glee
i get from disgusting her is
absolutely worth it

© J.J. Campbell

---

10 REASONS WHY DEBBIE KIRK CAN'T DIE

10) her punk rock coolness has stretched past immortality

9) she's a chick with a mohawk that takes it in the ass, need i say more

8) the city of los angeles doesn't deserve her remains

7) who else is going to teach suburban white guys about the dwarves

6) name another poet sans penis that is strong enough to carry bukowski's torch

5) who else is going to tell me my early morning shit poems are gross

(hey you, put your hand down, i'm trying to make a point here)

4) tattooing the dead makes no sense

3) who else is going to tell me stories about old gay black men, raging suicidal urges,

loaded guns, sharpened knives and the greatest pot in the world with a machine gun

like tongue all in one breath

2) who will keep me up at night insisting that she really is funny

and the number one reason why Debbie Kirk can't die

drum roll please...

1) because i can think of a billion people that need to go before her

© J.J. Campbell

---

THREE RAILS, CORNER POCKET

i'm struggling with this notion,
this realization, this overwhelming
feeling that my life is worth nothing

that these words i've scribbled down
over the years will amount to nothing

that these years of blood, sweat and tears
have led me to nothing

and it's this notion, this realization
this overwhelming feeling that
strangles me every morning

making it harder to get out of bed
fake ambition, conjure up a drive
that doesn't seem to exist anymore

yet here i am

face in the mirror after the morning piss

fully aware that this notion, this
realization, this overwhelming
feeling exists right behind my eyes

as i wipe away at them i suppose
i constantly trick myself into
thinking that today is the day

that it doesn't matter that the odds
are stacked against me, that i'm
stuck behind the eight ball and
there's a thousand dollars on the line

none of it matters for today
is the day i make the shot
of my life

it's this line of thinking
that makes all the tomorrows
so hard to handle

© J.J. Campbell

---

WE LUCKY ONES

every morning i wake up i do so
with eyes full of tears

tears of pain

not a physical or emotional pain

but the pain in knowing that part
of me enjoys this, gets off on it
thinks this is the right path to
completion, nirvana

that only a few steps away is an
ignorant bliss that only we lucky
ones get to enjoy

and the pain comes from knowing
that i have no desire to stop it or
change or get better

whatever better may be

i can feel it killing me

soon i'll be spitting up blood and
pretending i'm a martyr

climbing up on my cross for the
umpteenth time in my life

wondering how long until i figure
out how to nail myself to it

© J.J. Campbell

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