Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Justin S Wampler May 2023
Everyone is a fire fighter
when it comes to calling it a night.
You can either watch it smolder
or give it a good splash, right?

But seldomly indeed
does a feeling exceed
the joy of having to ***
whilst simultaneously
having a fire that needs
extinguishing.

Ahhhh, what a sense of relief.
Smoky the bear is smiling at me
through the yellow-tinged cloud
wafting gently through the trees.
Justin S Wampler Jul 2021
I want one sharp enough
to cut through this garbage import porcelain,
I want one sharp enough
to cut through god.

Ain't even hungry yet,
just desperate to cut
something uncuttable
into beautiful pieces.

Poly grip feels good
in my aging hands,
are you sharp enough
my shining friend?

Serrations are preferred,
whetstones and gravel.
Gimme something to slit.
Something to bloodlet.

Something whole,
something begging for
division.

Something to flex my arm into.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
It takes two to tango
or so they say,
but it only takes me
to Tanqueray.
Justin S Wampler Oct 2020
With,
Or without
A title.

It feels so, anyway.

Tonight's
Just
A recital.

We don't have to stay.

No matter
What
We say.

Can things be the same?

Maybe
Nothing
Even changed.

She hums and whistles.

I'm playing
Mental
Games.

Doing thought gymnastics.

I've always
Been
The same.
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
"Yeah buddy, how've you been man?!"


"Let's forget that, want to talk about the things
we've forgotten?"

He looks at me analyzing, and perplexed by,
my intentions against the blank slate that is my face.

"Yeah! Right? Been trying hard to forget
this winter dude, the snow is killing me!"

Matt turns away, takes a slug and summons Vince over
in order to order a shot of cinnamon whiskey. I turn to
wheel of fortune and start counting letters in potential words
when I say

"I bet I've forgotten more things than you can remember"
"..."


"Excuse me?"

He turns back with fireball eyes and whiskey in his hand and
I'm startled by the voracity of his intoxication. Smiling yet totally
instigated he looks me in the eye, takes his shot and states

"are you ridiculing my memories man? You think you had it
harder than me?"
pointing at my chest
"Anyone can see how privileged you ******* are."

I shut up, turn back to wheel and practice my silence.
He drains his beer and steps out into the suffocating snow.
Beautiful snow.
I imagine stuffing great white handfuls of the wet stuff
into his face for all eternity.
Is the snow killing you now BUDDY?!
Lets talk about the weather MAN!!
Tell me all about it DUDE!
Justin S Wampler Nov 2020
I'm slightly shameful
That it took great loss
For me to appreciate
The family I've got.

But maybe that's life,
And all that I can do
Is be here for who's left,
And be grateful for it too.
Justin S Wampler Dec 2024
These ******* people
I surround myself with
make it impossible
to enjoy the
allure of death.

So I guess I'm cursed
to keep on living.

Thanks a lot.

******* *******.
Justin S Wampler Aug 2022
This bottle's been pressed
from two separate halfs.

As is much in life.

Love.

Teamwork.

We're all just as bound together
as this bitter vessel of liquor.

Just gotta pay less attention
to the seam,

and focus more on
what's inside.
Justin S Wampler Nov 2023
If you look closely
sometimes you'll catch
a little glimpse of heaven,
though no more than a glint,
faintly shimmering
in the inky darkness.

It leads you somewhere, undoubtedly.

That tinct twinkle,
that glimmering mote,
though I know it not.
Justin S Wampler Dec 2020
Every time
The trees sigh,
I feel
A slight wind blow.

The sky sings
With whistling birds,
Swooping
In the falling snow.

A taste of lime,
A sprig of mint
Floats
Atop a cold mojito.

Twinkling rings,
Headlights glint
Briefly,
In an ebb and flow.

Luminous lies
Shine light on
My mind,
My eyes are windows.

Simple things
Convolute, in the
Face of
My writhing ego.

The day flies
On the wings of
A black bird,
A single cawing crow.

Wallowing, no,
Relishing in
This feeling,
Like watching a plant grow.
Justin S Wampler Mar 2021
I can't,
and furthermore;
I ain't even want to.

Dance, hum and sing.
Something about rings.
Teak, teal, topaz.

I can't.
Don't ask me
if I can.

Don't ask me
nothing.
Justin S Wampler Jun 2015
taste the turmoil
on my trembling tongue

sip
slurp

and I'm gone
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
Jesus tried crossfit,
but it wasn't working out.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
I've found heaven
by looking into her
stained-glass eyes.

Though I fear
she has found
hell in mine.
Justin S Wampler Nov 2020
Ain't much for sermons,
And I don't need a church
To see that it's more than
Just a nap
in the dirt.

Ain't had much thought
On what it means to die,
Too busy living life
One day
At a time.

But I swear I still see
Glints of God shining
In the slats of evening sunlight
Cast through the venetian blinds.
I see God in my brother's
Smiling green eyes,
In my aunt's jubilant laughter,
In my grandfather's volunteering
Of all of his time.
I see God in my Dan,
An admirable man,
I see God in the way
Others see just family.

I pray to my mother
To be the kind of person
That my family may look at
And see a glimpse of God in me.
Justin S Wampler Oct 2018
The next time I come see you
I want to read to you.
Like you always used to read to me
before turning out the lights.
For every time I wouldn't hold your hand,
I want to hold it twice as long now.
When the blankets slide down too far
I want to put them back on you.
If your pillows fall flat
I want to fluff them for you.
When you cry
I want to be there with
a fresh tissue for each tear.
I want to quit my job
and be there next to the bed with you.
I want to ask you what I should do
when my world is falling.
I want to do everything you do,
and be just like you.
I want to laugh.
I want to hear you laugh.
I want to read to you,

forever.
I want to be as proud of myself as you are of me. I love you.
Justin S Wampler Jun 2016
God is the way sunlight bends through an empty shot glass,
throwing cascading fractures on the solemn bar top.
God is the skin I crawl in
and peel away by two layers at a time
above the ****-filled blisters left
by that same old sun
on happy afternoons.

God is a drunk
and doesn't give a ****
about what
I think he is.
God is the sun.
Justin S Wampler Nov 2021
There's no... Glimmer.
No, sheen or glint.
There's not a single hint
of iridescent shimmer.

There's no learning,
nothing here to glean.
I've checked between
the lines, discerning
only a hollow vastness
where others have seen
bits of what it all means.
I've found only plastics.

Torn and terrible,
the way I've been.
A living dream,
nothing's untearable.
Justin S Wampler Jul 2021
"It's always sunset here!"
she said with an airy laugh.
"Like a land of infinite twilight,
or a place where the golden hour
persists forever. It's like a dream!"

She turned and smiled at me.
The golden rays of the frozen setting sun
turned her hair into liquid bronze,
and I marveled at the visage.

"I'm happy you like it here"
I said with a bitter grin.
I saw my reflection in her glimmering eyes
and the taste of copper flooded my mouth.

Blood on the pillow.
Bit my tongue in my sleep again.
It's dark in this room,
blankets all askew
and my teeth are dry
from snoring.

It'll be tough falling back asleep
because the dichotomy between
reality and my dream
is too vast.
Too great a divide.
I'll be imagining
That dream
all day long.
Justin S Wampler Apr 2021
*** of needles,
all held together with a rubber band.
Baggies and cotton ***** and
a spoon with a blackened bottom.
A length of rubber tubing.
Shot up and nodded off,
she seemed happy that way.
Even sobbing, she seemed somehow happy.
She didn't want my help
and I didn't have help to give anyway.
She wanted blue lips
and the peace of the infinite.
She'd gone cold
and I never was a fire.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
Anyone can be a god.
But it takes true grit to be a dog.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
If there's one
kind of person
that I despise
the most,

it's a ******* writer.
Justin S Wampler Jun 2021
The road of indecisiveness
is paved with dead squirrels.
Justin S Wampler Aug 2014
Drowning in the thick blanket of sleep
flailing frantically towards consciousness
awakening in a throbbing rigid mess
from the dreams spent buried deep
in her dripping-wet clutch
Justin S Wampler Jan 2022
Hands behind your back.
Alternatively, I may allow
self-pleasure.

But no,
I mean,
I love hands in general.

You can learn so much
about someone
from their hands.
How their fingers move,
scars,
and self care.

I like to touch them
with my hands,
hands are the best
for touching.
They're so
innately sensual.

Grabbing, caressing,
pulling, holding,
slapping, knotting up in hair.
Beckoning.
Warding off.

Tickling.

I enjoy
tickling.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
Watch me suffer,
watch me shout.
Watch me struggle
to put the fire out.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
Memories, like echoes,
resonate within the
canyons of my soul.
Justin S Wampler Nov 2020
Work ran late.

He's been waiting all day
To take me out for steaks.
I fumble my keyring
And pick it up again,
I always get his house key
Mixed up with mine.

Asleep on the couch,
A Hallmark movie
Playing unwatched on the TV.
He must've seen this one already.

"Hey."
I touch his shoulder
And smile at him when he looks up at me.
He smiles back.

I wonder if he still believes
In anything.

"You ready to rock & roll down to the Banquet?"
"Yeah man, I'm starving."
Justin S Wampler Dec 2020
Imagine moving to the beach,
Living so close to the sand and the sea.
Imagine waking up
And smelling salty water on the morning air,
Hearing gulls squawk in rhythm
With the crashing breakers.
Imagine all of the lights,
All of the nights on the piers.
Ferris wheel like an eye
Watching, illuminated,
In the darkened sky.
Imagine a boat in a marina,
Waiting to go fishing for flounder.

Imagine getting used to it,
A permanent vacation.
How long would it take
To take it for granted?
Would I miss the trees and the hills,
And the Pennsylvania vibes?
Is a vacation still a vacation
If it happens every night?

Maybe it's better here
Among the snowy, fallen leaves,
Because it gives me something
To look forward to,
Gives me something to believe.
Trudging through the muck,
Working through the week,
Gives me a special kind of appreciation
For the sunny, sandy beach.
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
Baby, super glue your best dancing shoes
on those pretty little painted toes,
because you and I both know
we don't stop until we drop.

So let the lights go to your head
and forget about what I said,
the night's just long enough
to learn how to hold my breath.
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
Her love shines like
a sunset through venetian blinds,
leaving me stripped
and striped with shadows and light.

Her love is the knife dissecting
my spine one vertebrae at a time.

I hope she likes
what I really am inside,
because I spill my guts
just to hear her sigh.
Justin S Wampler Jun 2015
Learning the language
of recycling

I now speak in clinks
and broken bottles
Justin S Wampler Dec 2020
There's no real reason
That I never called my step father
'Dad.'
I came up with some throwaway line
When Mom asked me to call him that.
I was young, but I remember saying
Something along the lines of
"I respect my Dan more than I respect my Dad."
She must've thought that was adequate reasoning
Because she never brought it up again,
And I've called him Dan ever since.
I think now I may have missed out
On an opportunity, but there's no way to really know.
At the time I thought that
If he had been the one to come up to me
And ask me to call him Dad,
Then maybe my answer would've been different.

I can't decide whether
I never consider my biological father,
Or if I constantly think about him subconsciously.
I wish there had been a day when
He wasn't a kind and loving person to me.
I wish he would've been more obviously
Cruel,
Or sick.
People told me he was schizophrenic,
But that was never what I saw.
I only ever saw my Dad, y'know?
If he had been more obviously sick,
Or maybe if my memory wasn't clouded
By the idealistic, fuzzy veil of childhood,
Then maybe it would've been easier
To accept it when he told me he was leaving.
But when someone who only has ever loved you
Shows up one day just to
Say goodbye,
Well... I don't know.
I guess it makes it harder
To let go of hope.

I see a lot of him leaving,
In myself.
The idea of running away
Is appealing.
The prospect of chalking up my
Lack of responsibility
To something like a mental disorder,
Or wanting to be crazy,
Has always been so alluring.
I guess at the end of the day
Everyone wants to be like their Dad.
Justin S Wampler Aug 2014
Without my mind's
electrical circuitry,

there's no time
besides eternity.
Without you, I wouldn't exist
Within me, existence resides
Justin S Wampler Jun 2022
The pancake tree softly slapping in the breeze,
gravy to dip your ground-biscuits in.
A sip of ginge,
locking eyes with Bella.

The taste of three or four Stellas,
blue twine escaping our lips
as we smoke in between our
bouts of rapid acceleration.

She can't get the music playing
with my mouth on her earlobe.
The stolen speaker saves us.

Naked on the deck,
enjoying the wooden structure
before she burns it down.

She's puzzled, puzzling.
Dwight's **** is
somewhere in the
jumbled mix.

Locking eyes again,
with Bella.
I laugh, and laugh
and laugh.

I love to laugh.
I love to say "No."
when she asks
if she's allowed
to come.

So close too,
maybe this time
I'll say
"Yes."

Maybe not.
Justin S Wampler Dec 2020
Childhood passes,
Not with quiet gracefulness,
But fits and tantrums.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
Fake flames encased in glass
reflect faces of strangers.
Superficial warmth and comfort
radiate from their mouths.

I'm set on edge regardless of my
firm seat and muttered condolences.
Their eyes tell me lies that
they would never speak aloud.

This dense joyous atmosphere
accentuates their hidden pains.

But they can't tell I'm uncomfortable
because my eyes lie the same.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2021
Keep my sweet can cold.
No more hand-condensation.
Squeeze rubbery foam.
Justin S Wampler Aug 2014
oh, sugar packet
spill your contents thoroughly
make my coffee sweet
Justin S Wampler Jul 2015
Chords and calluses
are the subtle products of
bleeding for music
Justin S Wampler Nov 2018
Maybe I'll read a book
Or play some tetris
Justin S Wampler Jun 2022
Dad ain't taught me much,
but one lesson stuck with me
after all these years.

He taught me how to disappear.

But now I'm alone
because he never told me
the rest of the story.

I never learned how to return.

I guess I'll keep waiting
for him to finish
teaching me.

I'm good at waiting.
Justin S Wampler Jul 2016
When I stop
to read the signs
I can feel them
reading me instead.
Justin S Wampler Aug 2022
I've viridian envy
for your Teflon tongue.

How painlessly your words slide
from between your lips.
Sure it may be non-stick,
but it sure is cancerous.

I'm always tied and tired.
A stuttering, blundering mess.
That's all that I can manage
when I try to address.

I'm a poor orator.
A vocal trainwreck.

Thus I turn to an inky friend:
My true new blue pen.
My words don't fumble,
or stumble around,
when I take the time
to write them all down.

My fingers don't stutter,
they don't get stuck on
certain letters.
They don't get stuck on
my first name,
or last.

I'll write it all out for you,
I'll write the whole world down.
Although I have to take a break
at least for right now, because

my hand is starting to cramp.


I guess it was all just a moot truth.
I guess my muscles do stutter too...
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
**** man.
I literally can't stop drinking.

I took a day off,
yesterday.
But it don't matter.

I was bitter and angry
all day today.

So I grabbed a bottle
on my way home.

I'm an alcoholic.

But I'm a poet too?
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
In, I strut
with a grin.
My teeth drip with
with liquid sin,
and I lick them.
It tastes of
brandy and gin
as I rest my chin
upon her skin.

I sigh under
the midnight sky,
and take my
pill with a
gulp of rye.

Stretched with one
hand in the ashtray,
and the other
covering my eyes,
I feel her burn
I feel her love
in the slick dust
from
my last gasp
of cigarette.
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
My hands fascinate me
because all I have left
of her is the dirt under
my fingernails.

The lines in my palms
all point towards the
past and everything I've
ever held.

And my fat knuckles
are getting harder and
harder for me to keep
cracking them.

Nails, bones, knuckles,
tendons, joints, creases,
cuticles, scars, burns,
varicose veins.

No two hands are
ever held the same.
Next page