there are days that
i wake up and wonder if
this is the day i reach
my breaking point

the day my tolerance
for life finally gives way

i used to be able to recall
days on the opposite end
of this spectrum

but those are nothing more
than long lost distant
memories of days that
i have to think really
hard to remember if they
even existed

today seems to be one
of those days where
making it to the evening
is in doubt

3:30 pm eastern,
i'll keep you posted


the more i see these
political ads

the stronger the
urge is for me
to just say fuck it
and start rooting
for the terrorists
to win

i mean shit

i'm an american

i'm supposed to root
for the underdog


isn't that what is
wired into our david
vs. goliath brains?

yeah, i do believe
cinderella has found
her glass slipper in the
backseat of the car bomb

next step is
the championship

parting the blue hair sea

i get a kick out of the
old women in town

they aren't quite sure
what to do when they
see a 260 lb. bald fat fuck
dressed in all black with dark
shades and a long goatee
approaching who looks like
he's a recent escapee
looking for a nasty fuck
in a dark alley somewhere

they make me feel like moses
parting the blue hair sea

but by getting the fuck out
of my way, they truly do
make my life much easier

so it's all worth
the stares, gasps
and the ever present
smell of ointment for
old joints

for now at least

but i'm sure over time
i'll find some reason to
snap and give them all
the horror show they were
expecting to begin with

killing the ones we love

i've been having these
dreams lately where i
wake up to find you
next to me in bed

and i feel at ease
for a change
comfortable in it all

i wrap my arms around you
only to find you lifeless,
cold, without a pulse
and then i notice the
blood dripping
from my hands

startled, i wake up
wonder if i need to start
smoking again

but after a few deep breaths
i take comfort that we live
thousands of miles apart
and neither one of us has
the money to travel

the countdown is on

more americans beheaded

more defiant words to the
rest of the world

the jews want to nuke the arabs
the arabs want to nuke the jews

more attacks

more fear

a bombing on the hour
every hour for every soul
tossed aside for oil, for greed,
for the only way of life
worth killing others for

all that before i can put on the
morning coffee and change
the fucking channel

smoke 'em if you got 'em kids

we're all bound to meet
our maker soon

J.J. Campbell (b. 1976) lives, writes and dies a little each day in the state
of Ohio. He's widely published in the small press, most recently in Spent
Meat, Zygote In My Coffee, Fearless, Open Wide Magazine and Unlikely Stories.
J.J. also has been included in a number of chapbooks, anthologies and a spoken
word project. You can contact him via email at jcampb4593@aol.com

2004 Underground Voices