all alone in a crowded room

old faces from

the past race in

front of my mind

sort of a sensory

overload of sorts

all the horrors

from a childhood

i can't escape

yet another night

left all alone in a

crowded room

i try to hide my

demons as best

as i can

not even a miracle

worker can do it

forever

and i'm sure some

smart ass will say

he saw it coming

it's always the

quiet types that

do this crazy shit

i suppose we all

have our calling

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

keep myself entertained

i go for days without

speaking to anyone

other than myself

i'll know for sure

when it's time to

kill myself

when i can no

longer keep myself

entertained

these idle hands

have nothing but

pure evil inside

of them

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

god started to laugh

i remember

drinking alone

asking god to

help me

god started

to laugh and

moved along

i looked in

the mirror

and realized

even the devil

would think

of me as a

lost cause

no one

understands

that pain

waking up

each morning

disappointed

you didn't die

in your sleep

knowing that today

will bleed

into all the

other days

where society

has left you

behind

these are 

the mornings

i realize i

should have

never stopped

doing drugs

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

the hollow prayers to die

the bitter taste

of when all you

have dreamed

of doesn't live

up to your

expectations

the slow

realization

of every lie

you were told

as a child

think of your

father in his

grave

his hands

around your

neck and the

hollow prayers

to die

sometimes the

hardest thing to

realize is you're

simply taking

up space on

this earth

now comes the

choice

the rope

the gun

or a generator

in a locked car

in a parking lot

decisions, decisions

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

dance with insanity

welcome the black

widow into your life

and prepare yourself

for all the craziness

that ensues

playing by the rules

got you nowhere

why bother to give

a fuck now

dance with insanity

and enjoy every scary

fucking dramatic event

that nearly ends your

life

from the broken alleys

to the abandoned homes

to the back of a police

car

once the rich decided

they couldn't make

enough money off of

the crazy ones

turn them loose and 

let the streets take

care of them

i guess some watched

too many episodes

of the walking dead

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

minor league sports

i remember sitting

at a hockey game

once thinking about

how i would most

like to die

that's the problem

with minor league

sports in poor towns

in the midwest

they can't keep 

you entertained

all the time

and cheap hot

dogs and alcohol

only goes so far

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

J.J. Campbell

Retracing

Today I am retracing
my steps through old
pages.  Moth
sounds accompany my
soft journey.

I will make intentional
clambering noises
so part of the trip
is louder.

Am I a closed loop?
No, I do not own this
description.  I am
an ongoing chain,
an open hand, a word
that would sustain.

Why were these old
images important?  Who
can say now.

———

All Things

I tried to be All
Things and many voices.
Farmer and doctor
and housemaid.

Soon, my trying became
tired.  I held up
a small mirror, like
Sara in Isak’s dream.
At last I saw it.

Then I woke to hardly
remember what I had
learned.

________

Disclosure

Everyone hides
a little even as they disclose.
Or maybe it’s just me.

Maybe I am the actor
on stage and everyone else
is an honest player.

There’s too much to know
to share in a 30 second
monologue.

We switch the scene, until
the play has ended.

_________

Ah-Ha

The camera tilts up.
An enormous set.
The main character
utters a tiny phrase.
Fade.
Cut somewhere else.
Tell me more.
The follow-up scenario.
Bring it home.
More mystery.
A sequel ensues.
Then we learn there is
nothing new.
Then we learn the contract
was signed.
The clowns are all saddened.
The dancers were all
just special effects.
People are people.
Even on the screen.

________

Perception

We loved it at first,
the plates, busy young
people bringing us
forks.

But lately the meals have
soured.  Was it always
this way?

Did we take some minor
suggestion and run with
it, ascribing beauty
to plainness?

Oh well.  We will find other
offerings down the road.

JD Dehart

ON POETRY PUBLISHING & MONEY

Money

was never a part of it

is  not a part of it

never will be

for when money

enters the

bloodstream all

purity

and

freedom

dies and

slavery

and

prostitution

is nurtured.

CHURCH POEMS

On numerous occasions

I’ve read poetry in

churches at weddings

and funerals

but reading my own

dirty poems and

drinking wine in a

church was a new thing

for me: I refrained from

smoking as I thought

this might piss-off a few

people:

at the end of the evening

I wobbled to my feet and

sold a few books and

looked up at the wooden

and porcelain crucifix

above the altar and winked

up at the statue: I moved

unsteadily down the aisle

and remember a young

woman telling me she

enjoyed my poems and I

stepped outside into a dark

raining city that I didn’t

know: but it felt good as I

welcomed  the coldness and

saw a taxi

across the street to help with

my escape.

COOL AGAIN

Truly it was a terrible film,

a slasher horror B movie:

about 40 minutes in he

swayed over to the t.v and

video player, which he

ripped away from it’s

connections, walked over

to his 3^rd floor balcony

and hurled the machine

down into the street

below: ‘There was too

much killing , it upset me’

 he said sitting back down:

I staggered to the balcony

wondering if someone

was laying dead: the rented

video lay splintered across

the pavement: I switched

on the radio and a male

voice spoke seriously of

the dangers of unprotected

sex: he wobbled onto his

feet, looking angry and

moved towards the radio:

‘Hey’ I said ‘We can change

the channel and find some

rock and blues’:

he paused, looking with

menace at the radio and

then over to the balcony:

‘Okay, see what you can

find’ he said:

I found some Chuck Berry

and he sat down and

lifted a glass,

things were cool again.

NOW AND THEN

One of those times when

the spirit and the

enthusiasm are on fire

and running ahead and

the mechanics don’t

quite work:

‘Maybe I should try

some viagra’ I said

‘Let’s try again’ she said:

‘I read about that stuff,

one of the potential

side-effects is bleeding

from the eyes’ I said

she starting giggling

‘That’s not romantic,

I’d be running around

the house, screaming

with a raging hard-on

and blood dripping

from my eyeballs’

I said

she laughed for a few

moments and then

moved in close again,

her warmth was

irresistible to me:

‘Let’s try again’ she

said

and we did.

ANY AMOUNT

Any amount of my waking hours

are drenched in sensual thoughts,

sex images: simply glancing at

women will set my imagination

aflame with urges and flash-like

mind-pictures of an erotic nature

but at 54 years old, I’m tempered

and weakened by too much

booze and drugs and life to

travel any further than the

imagination: an observer

rather than a predator, sidelined

by age and ugliness and

addictions: let me tell you it’s a

nice place to be:

I’ve hurt enough hearts, broken

too many dreams, gambled too

many hours on worthless paths,

I’ve ignored the protests and

encouragements,

I can lean back now,

leave the helpless chasing to

those with a younger and

faster naive spirit.

NO ESCAPE

‘We can’t do it here’ she whispered:

‘Why not?’ I asked:

‘We’re in a church’ she replied:

‘We’re in the living quarters of the

church, not in the church’ I said:

‘But it’s still a holy place, look at

all the pictures and crucifixes upon

the walls’ she said:

‘That’s just fucking decoration, it

doesn’t mean shit’ I said:

‘I don’t feel comfortable’ she said:

‘Okay’ I said ‘I’ll use my imagination

and my right hand’:

she shook her head and said

‘Well, you go to the bathroom and be

quiet about it, keep all that grunting

and groaning to yourself, remember,

my mother’s next door’

‘Yeah and god is everywhere’ I said.

John D Robinson