Tuesday, July 11, 2017

in the arms of a better woman
don't think of it as pain
rather a peculiar path
to a new tomorrow
why fight the inevitable
the creeping death up
the back of your neck
as you lay in the arms
of a better woman
look at the moon
and ask for a reprieve
line up the shot glasses
and remember the fond
times of your youth
do you turn your back
or are you counting
down to zero
all of us were going
to be rock stars one
reality has a way of
crushing every soul
that dares to dream
that cherished moment
i can close
my eyes and
still hear her
angelic voice
the soft touch
of her skin
against mine
twenty years
and god knows
how many
moons since
that cherished
i hope your
life turned into
everything you
wished for
at least one
of us deserves
such a reward
let go of your fears
burn the candle
at both ends
shoot fireworks
out of your eyes
and destroy every
ugly soul on this
try your best to
not include your
dance naked in
the moonlight
in a festive
native land
let go of your
fears and ride
a comet under
the glow of the
northern lights
dare to be the
lonely soul
that is content
remove these
chains and
wish that
not just the
illusion of
no matter what
drops of
blood on
a clean
sheet of
is willing
wall they
stick in
front of
you, no
and once
the pain
fills you
and breaks
you'll see
that all you
ever needed
to do
was just walk
around the wall
every corner of this earth
the future is
a mushroom
cloud darkening
every corner
of this earth
accept the pain
and dance in
the face of fear
we should wish
to die while
laughing at a
dirty joke
it's the only
way any of this
is going to make
fucking sense
to live out loud
dance naked in
the rain under the
apocalyptic moon
when they dare you
to live out loud, scare
the shit out of them
by doing it better than
they knew possible
but this isn't
that poem
this is the poem about
a broken soul seeking
closure too soon for
those that deem these
things moral
this is a poem about
a rope, a tree and a
boy that knew too
this is for every
drop of blood
for every tear that
creased a bitter face
this is the poem that
isn't so much a cry
for help
but a clever way
of saying goodbye
J.J. Campbell

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...