Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
I am the MILKY WAY.
I am Mechanically Meticulous,
Maneuvering my way through life with
Malleability,
not showing the true Masterpiece of my Mind
(complex like the Milky Way).
I am an Interworking of
1% Idiocracy,
10% Ineluctable,
15% Incisiveness,
5% Insufficient,
7.5% Insatiable,
2.5% Invisible,
10% Infantile,
and
50% Incomprehensible,
101% of Ian
(A puzzle).
I am a Lionheart Lilium
Lucidly blossoming into a
Lackadaisical dimension
in which I Long to Liberate
my ideas from the Lucifer-Likeness of
the universe that I Live in
(My ideas are being confined).
I am a Kinetic force to be reckoned with,
put on a Kollision Kourse from
Konception to Katastrophe
eradicating those in my way,
(I can’t be stopped)
I am Young,
Yearning for wisdom ahead of my Years,
Yet Yoked by the Youth-like longing
of my elders
(caged by the generations of adults wishing to be a child, keeping me child-like).
I am Weary,
Wainscoted with Worry,
by the World I once Welcomed With Wide arms,
Wondering When the Worries created by my past Will
Wither away
(distressed by my past).
I Am An Adventurous
Apollo 1,
Abstracted then Awakened by the
Annihilation of myself,
forced to Admit
Absolute failure,
but then Amazed by the gate of success
(I do Fail, but I must learn from failure).
I am Yawning
at the Earth’s attempt to impress me,
Yet I Yell eternally
at it’s ignorance to the
great wonder that I contain.
I am the MILKY WAY.
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
Her face was the oasis i needed to see
the sands of time draining
when i went to drink
She was gone
mirages of love filled me till i came upon the final dune
on the horizon i found abundant seas of water
turned foul with the sins of man
yet i drank nevertheless
filling me with the illusion of fulfillment
only to be depleted
tearing away pieces of my mind
yet i drank nevertheless
visions of an Angel graced me as i slept
She was all too familiar
and yet foreign
the day brought pain
wishing to see my angel
so i drank nevertheless
stumbling about the shoreline
i drank
it never filled my thirst
always fleeting
meaningless gulps graced my throat
smoke billowing from my lungs
i drank nevertheless
the Angel returned in moments of passing
time tortured me with temptations
of Her love in the night
i drank nevertheless
sins corrupting my body
as logs bearing mites
corroding, fragile segments fell away in my trails
i could see her coming
the Angel
She fled as our eyes met
leading me from the water
i tried to follow
i tried to chase
nevertheless all for waste
i drank from the water
telling myself i didn’t need Her
Her beauty welded to my eyes
i couldn't leave the shore
as my feet were stuck in shallow sands of sinking
with no rope to reach for
no help coming
nevertheless
i extended my cupped hand to the now red sea of tempt
and drank
She stopped visiting in my dreams
the songs of Her voice abandoned my ears
alone in despair
i drank nevertheless
the water like a drug
i was now dependent
Life was not the same without this nectar of satan
it ripped out my insides
nevertheless with no stomach to bare it i drank
gulps so large the sea depleted feet at a time
out of reach the water receded
only kissing the tips of my finger with the presence of a full moon
so i suckled my fingers as a babe
nevertheless
till my days fled like the sea
abandoned by the pleasure of sin
all my mind came to was the Angel
and nevertheless She was gone.
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2019
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
When the lights turn off,
what do you see?
Do you see your future? Your past? Your here and now?
What do you hear?
Do you hear the loved? The hated? The lost and forgotten?
What do you feel?
The contempt for your torturer? The love for your mistress? The regret of the moments that ceased to exist before you could eternalize them?
Why when we’re in the dark are we afraid?
shouldn’t we feel safe, saved from the pain, and the very temporary pleasure,
Serenaded by our most inner thoughts,
Blanketed in the knowledge that the dark only controls the moments of the night when the moon and stars are too shrouded by objects to be seen,
the knowledge of the forthcoming light saving us from cliff diving into the jagged wake of insanity,
Shouldn’t we embrace the dark
knowing its power over the soul, its ability to cleanse us no matter how dirty we are,
like a distant magnet, slowly but definitely pulling our dark away,
for it only to be brought back in small dosages to teach us of our past, to prepare us for our future.
I cling to the night
I take pleasure in the possibility of slipping into the wake,
I feel comfort in knowing the night might ultimately consume me so that I never see day again,
After all when your mind is so clouded that you never truly see the light the only insured thing is the dark.
Because at the end of it: all we know there to be is dark,
an infinite tide of shadows only seen by those who had been immersed in the shade,
by those whose vision had been adjusted to see through the light and the dark,
so that they saw the reality of it all, that none of it was forever,
that no matter how bright it may seem there’s a shadow somewhere,
and no matter how many times you flip the switch not to be awoken by light but to be greeted by more dark there was one that worked somewhere.
One that works to scare the terrors of children away, to act as a father’s scythe,
to be on and then to leave us pondering
When will the lights turn off?
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
when we exit our mothers we cry out loud,
I like to think its from us being exposed to an infected world.
as we grow we continue to cry but it tends to change a little bit
as a boy you’re taught:
big boys go potty in the big boy potty
big boys use their words
big boys handle their own problems
big boys don’t cry
they always just use the term big boys, or pre-teens, or teenagers, or
the one I dislike the most young man.
I hate it because they try to separate us from the adults of the world,
but in a way that tells you you’re right there, just not yet
as if we’re walking a tightrope to our adulthood and if we make one mistake we might not get there.
It’s said as if we don’t face the same problems they do,
as if we’re grape juice and they’re Chardonnay
as if we don’t wake up in the morning to:
the same world,
the same news,
the same stress,
the same food,
the same love,
the same celebrities,
and the same politicians.
So we cry internally,
our screams only driving us insane,
only affecting our sleep patterns,
only causing us to find new ways to chase them away.
The world forces us into a prison of our own skin,
when we try to break free only leaving us scarred and tortured.
Growing up to me isn’t necessarily about the end goal of adulthood,
Growing to me is about how we deal with our growing pains.
Learning:
it’s okay to cry out loud,
it’s okay to ask for help,
when you don’t know the right words to say it’s probably better to be quiet,
and sometimes when you can’t find a bathroom you should just pee on a tree.
Growing up is about breaking out of what we’re told to do as kids, it’s about becoming our own person, not about being who we’re meant to be already.
Growing up is making your own mistakes and messes, but then remembering to clean it up.
Growing up is rough and bumpy and not at all easy. Growing up really is just a bunch of grey area between the black and white, it’s an imperfect mosh-posh of good and bad,and pleasure and pain.
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
Puff puff pass away the pain,
Puff puff pass around the pleasure,
Puff puff pass away our brains,
Puff puff pass whatever weather,
Puff puff pass because the good,
Puff puff pass because the bad,
Puff puff pass because of all the stuff we wish we had,
Puff puff pass till dusk,
Then puff puff pass till dawn,
Puff puff pass so long you can’t help but yawn,
I’ve puff puff passed so much I started to forget how to care,
Honestly I’ve puff puff passed so much I just breathe it in like air,
Air so sweet it could help me temporarily forget my very permanent problems:
Thoughts of guns scraping my skull through my brain,
Take a breath
Thoughts of open car doors on fast highways,
Take a breath
Rope burn around my neck,
Take a breath.
With him sick and family all around I didn’t get to breathe very often, those two weeks that’s all I wanted to do so I could stop the pain or at least make it soften.
I remember walking down the bright hospital hallway to his room only to learn of his death, I knew it wouldn’t bring him back but the fire might freeze the grief so the night my Dad died,
I took a breath.
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
Your silence killed me
Not at all fast,
Very much so painful
It seems my soul left me
Piece by piece
With every word that escaped my mouth,
All I wanted was for you to speak your soul into me,
But all I got was silence.
Not the peaceful quiet kind
But the kind that screams inside your mind
The silence that makes it difficult to hear anything else
The whispers of the night flowing through my mind so easily,
Like a warm knife through butter.
But your silence it stayed
Haunting me,
Hurting me,
Heaping amounts of nothing,
Flying through my mind taking every thought and abusing it
Until the only way to end the silence was to scream
The screams were loud,
They were painful,
And long.
Yet your silence kept slicing through
Until I couldn’t take it anymore,
Your silence led to the last loud noise I could make
Bang
And it was all silent.
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
“Shhhh” she whispered as the silence was broken by the tears of uncertainty
I tried to quiet myself
I just couldn’t,
For some reason I craved her, she knew,
And for some reason she kept her feelings hidden.
She wasn’t sure of what she wanted so I cried through my words
“I’ll Be here”
Pause
“I know you’re not ready yet”
Pause
“But when you are”
My eyes looked towards my feet
“I’ll be here waiting”
I heard her silent questioning
Why
So I responded with silence myself
Except it was silence in motion
I moved in and embraced her
My lips wrapping around hers
I kissed her.
She kissed back.
But that was the end of it for the time being,
And for some strange reason I acted like I was okay with it
I acted and I acted and I acted
But all my acting couldn’t stop the dreams,
No terrors,
No romantic horrors.
For many nights they brought me feelings so real my heart would leave my body and fly,
Only to be torn out of the sky and buried under the harsh awakening I had when the alarms would move my body from the night into the day,
How can you crave something you’ve never had so strongly,
How can you desire something for so long,
That you die needing it.
So every night I cried silent tears, and every day I wore a lie across my face, only broken by the glimpses of beauty I got when I saw you.
“Shhhh” I heard your voice as I saw you,
So “Shhhh” I would tell myself
Over and over and over again
“Shhhh”
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
Haunted with hope,
The love forgotten kisses my brain,
In time passing so causing strain,
Thoughts stalking
And seeking,
Injecting its venomous tendrils in my neck through its teeth .
Stuck such as a snake bite.
Weaving into my bloodstream
Simmering into my brain.
Vivid visions of her follow me
Her cough is behind me to the left,
No right,
Covered by the shade of the night.
The coughing is closer.
I stare into the sea of crowds
Many stare back.
Their eyes piercing.
I feel the onslaught of judgement
The whip of whispers lashes onto my back
Seeming to destroy my flesh.
The cats with nine tails clawing at my skin.
Even Jesus wept.
Her ailment couldn’t keep my kisses away.
But her spirit shook my bones away from my body, I could see myself.
Stumbling, neck red with bite marks, eyes red with tears. For the man before me was no longer filled with my own spirit, he fell to the ground.
Wails erupted from his mouth like the shrieks of those tortured in the pits of hell.
Love once so strong now hast led me to madness in its absence.
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
Ian Campbell Poem
A shadow,a darkness
engulfing my past, or my future
Changing as time changes
A silent stalker following me in the day, A leader
never straying from the seemingly never ending
path of life I have
Myself following
it runs as I run, stops when I stop
a darkness
not of the night, but of the day
a shadow
Creeping along the walls
not mine, but the shadows of objects
because the world is just a box of shadows
because what is a shadow? but darkness
a back and forth of greys and blacks
that are always somewhere
because when light is gone from one area
it just gets darker, not moved by the wind
but by the light
Shadows
Copyright © Ian Campbell | Year Posted 2017
|