Warhol and Factory Inspired Series: Poem by J.D. Casey IV : Every Time I Eat Campbell’s Soup

man in brown jacket walking on green grass field during daytime

photo by Mikhail/luxstn (unsplash)

Every Time I Eat Campbell’s Soup

andy, andy, where have you been
there's a war in the hall
of hell on earth

i used your golden telephone
to alert our lonesome god

the call
could not be completed
as dialed

it got disconnected
when you left the scene

i think it was the first time
when the bullets hit their mark
but failed to put you down for good

you only died a little and
you dug the corset anyway

andy, andy, do come back home
tell god we need you here
i can't get him
on the line

soulnap basquiat
while you're at it



Bio: James D. Casey IV is an artist, award-winning poet, author of seven poetry collections, and founder/editor-in-chief of Cajun Mutt Press. His work has been published in print and online by several small press venues and literary magazines internationally.

La Voce dei Poeti, La Catena della Pace international poetry contest gave "Warriors of the Rainbow" by J.D.C.IV a critic's choice award in 2016, and his poem "That'll do Pig" was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by New Pop Lit in 2019.

James was born in Colorado, grew up in Louisiana/Mississippi, and currently resides in Illinois.  


Founder/Editor-in-chief of Cajun Mutt Press.


A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with J.D. Casey IV from Cajun Mutt Press


EIC: David L O’Nan is the Saturday Feature on Cajun Mutt Press with old storytelling poetry

https://cajunmuttpress.wordpress.com/2021/10/15/now-available-from-cajun-mutt-press-12/


The Bible Belt Bachelor Beat, The Prison Speech (2005) Poetry by David L O’Nan

versions of this are in my books and also published in slightly altered versions on the Cajun Mutt Press site during a Saturday Feature. These came from a book I was working on in 2005 in which I didn’t finish and threw together poems as a result.

The Bible Belt Bachelor Beat

So now the beat was out on the streets again,
Darkness hears the soul’s tears burning within.
Finding home wearing the sadness coat.
Fighting a love affair with a knife wielding holy ghost.
My beautiful girl is at rest, wasting away
She is staring into the darkness – Of this evening’s shade
The horror calls from across the halls,
They were deafening, my silence proved too late
So now I know, how the death bell tolls
I seek revenge, I fuel myself with scorn and hate
To take apart, the crooked heart
Who severed my soul, magician of greed and loath?
Reincarnate myself into the heroin, the addiction
The power rose, the mighty lion, the sorcerer,
The dictator, the cult king
The need to be disillusioned
The creation was to be crazy,
To break apart with newly found powerful hands,
That used to be so gentle.
So fragile and weak,
When I used to touch her cheek
The morning like a celestial daydream,

The haze of fog
Sipped her tears,
When she began to cry
The dryness,
Like a desert for sad brown eyes
This germ will not run, cannot hide
Cannot mutate, I know that I can design
The perfect plan, the perfect kill
Alas, I may become dirt on the way
Dear God, knowing however
His bones are already chilled
Spirits have cried, they dry, they fly
They live in my heart, for my love
That was taken by the evil in a wild heart.

The Bible Belt Bachelor Prison Speech

Hello,

To all that have been captured
We are breathing the same chipped paint walls,
Yellow urine stained floors, pneumonia air.

The air of a criminal
Locked up, prison guards whistling our death tune.
Death will be coming soon.

We’re already dead in a sense.
Nature is outside, designed for the free man

On a warm sun-lit sand.
The touch of lovers, the natural consumption of lust.
In my cell asleep with the poetry –
I felt when I was one with the free
When I wasn’t practicing bullets
Setting fire to Mother Nature and to faith.
When blizzard walks exuded freedom.
Through the snow chills devouring my feet
With numbing, cutting skin
The pain of past freedom
My name is Dante Moricelli
Her name was Nadine Angelis
You might have read about me
In your wrinkled newspapers, Slippery
phlegm gazettes

The glossy excitement of a Time Magazine.
The mortality sonnet depicting the surrealism in a slippery dream.
Nadine Angelis was my love as the tender years began to fade.
Young, careless, we were the storybook tale of the unsaved.
I will tell you more about my love,
If your ears are tuned to listen “Must
we have a heart, we never listened
before?” “Must we have ears,
To be attentive to your listless self-loathing?” “Must our
maniacal spirit be all and sundry To your hopeless
prophecy?”
“Are we peasants to your pulpit?”
“You, bleeding your cold love propaganda in our troglodytic tomb”
“Interrupting the carving of our minds with a fever
That comes from watching roaches scurry down prison floors, Spiders climbing up our
shirts, flies and decay consuming our food”
“Marking x’s on our calendars with our life force fluid,
The countdown to our demise: the foregone conclusion”
But I am a human heartbeat
I was a 5-year bachelor that fell on hard times,
The loss of reasonable thinking,
And a self-confessed stalker of love
So, if what I’m about to tell you –
Were the opening of a movie
The song “Let There Be More Light” Would be
resonant, magnetic to the ears
Illuminating, flashing of lights from psychedelic trips of torture
The horrified manic looks,
As we drive erratically down a desert road.
Passing cacti and breathing in dry arid air
The sun setting down to a dark orange/bright red hell.

The flashes of a nearly perfect capture lay –
In the trunk of a Pontiac Sunbird.
The music, the music like soundwaves to our mind.
We can see the sound
We have become the sound
We have become the light
Passing by leather skinned lizards with masochistic claws,

Wanting to give you one more bite in the jugular before – The eternal
damnation of our soul’s ease.
The serpents black flickering tongue – Spreads
over the heavens
With a Hallelujah Chrysalis of poisoned tears.
We, looking for an escape to find peace again
But, knowing the only written word of our future is that of a Eulogy.
A eulogy given by family members who didn’t know us well enough
to care before.

All because of espionage and jealousy.
And the loss of love that wasn’t understood quickly enough.
The burning of a desert,
The scarring on the face of Mona Lisa
The victim that lay in his own bloodletting on torn towels – and
shredded t-shirts.
With the rips, that remind us
The struggle it was
The determination in us that caused our perfect lunacy to this near
perfect kill.
His false hopes of spiritual happiness
And wellbeing exposed
by his crooked cross on a cut chest.

Even though I’m terrified by the outcome.
As sheriffs, detectives, specialists all pace faster and faster behind our car
of forlorn sin.

The electricity already beginning to pop in our veins! The multiple
trips are scary, long, and all indicative
That we had almost masterminded the perfect crime.

So, now the collapsing rollercoaster ride has ended.
The song has ended.
Let me tell you how we came to this plunge into ridicule and reverie.
I’m Dante Moricelli “the Bible Belt Bachelor”
The name they stamped on me,
I’ve lost all identity and dignity now
I’m just a title, less of a man.
Because I erased a man from existence
Who deserved to die.
He took away the root to my soul,
My dear Nadine Angelis
She made my heart feel, She
made my blood pump
And he twisted my mind into only one way of thinking,
Left me with the confusion

Much like after an aneurysm
The pounding, splitting shards of glass as well
shakes to the wild howls of coyotes.

Releasing small increments of mania.

The Bible Belt Bachelor Beat, The Prison Speech (2005) Poetry by David L O’Nan

versions of this are in my books and also published in slightly altered versions on the Cajun Mutt Press site during a Saturday Feature. These came from a book I was working on in 2005 in which I didn’t finish and threw together poems as a result.

The Bible Belt Bachelor Beat

So now the beat was out on the streets again,
Darkness hears the soul’s tears burning within.
Finding home wearing the sadness coat.
Fighting a love affair with a knife wielding holy ghost.
My beautiful girl is at rest, wasting away
She is staring into the darkness – Of this evening’s shade
The horror calls from across the halls,
They were deafening, my silence proved too late
So now I know, how the death bell tolls
I seek revenge, I fuel myself with scorn and hate
To take apart, the crooked heart
Who severed my soul, magician of greed and loath?
Reincarnate myself into the heroin, the addiction
The power rose, the mighty lion, the sorcerer,
The dictator, the cult king
The need to be disillusioned
The creation was to be crazy,
To break apart with newly found powerful hands,
That used to be so gentle.
So fragile and weak,
When I used to touch her cheek
The morning like a celestial daydream,

The haze of fog
Sipped her tears,
When she began to cry
The dryness,
Like a desert for sad brown eyes
This germ will not run, cannot hide
Cannot mutate, I know that I can design
The perfect plan, the perfect kill
Alas, I may become dirt on the way
Dear God, knowing however
His bones are already chilled
Spirits have cried, they dry, they fly
They live in my heart, for my love
That was taken by the evil in a wild heart.

The Bible Belt Bachelor Prison Speech

Hello,

To all that have been captured
We are breathing the same chipped paint walls,
Yellow urine stained floors, pneumonia air.

The air of a criminal
Locked up, prison guards whistling our death tune.
Death will be coming soon.

We’re already dead in a sense.
Nature is outside, designed for the free man

On a warm sun-lit sand.
The touch of lovers, the natural consumption of lust.
In my cell asleep with the poetry –
I felt when I was one with the free
When I wasn’t practicing bullets
Setting fire to Mother Nature and to faith.
When blizzard walks exuded freedom.
Through the snow chills devouring my feet
With numbing, cutting skin
The pain of past freedom
My name is Dante Moricelli
Her name was Nadine Angelis
You might have read about me
In your wrinkled newspapers, Slippery
phlegm gazettes

The glossy excitement of a Time Magazine.
The mortality sonnet depicting the surrealism in a slippery dream.
Nadine Angelis was my love as the tender years began to fade.
Young, careless, we were the storybook tale of the unsaved.
I will tell you more about my love,
If your ears are tuned to listen “Must
we have a heart, we never listened
before?” “Must we have ears,
To be attentive to your listless self-loathing?” “Must our
maniacal spirit be all and sundry To your hopeless
prophecy?”
“Are we peasants to your pulpit?”
“You, bleeding your cold love propaganda in our troglodytic tomb”
“Interrupting the carving of our minds with a fever
That comes from watching roaches scurry down prison floors, Spiders climbing up our
shirts, flies and decay consuming our food”
“Marking x’s on our calendars with our life force fluid,
The countdown to our demise: the foregone conclusion”
But I am a human heartbeat
I was a 5-year bachelor that fell on hard times,
The loss of reasonable thinking,
And a self-confessed stalker of love
So, if what I’m about to tell you –
Were the opening of a movie
The song “Let There Be More Light” Would be
resonant, magnetic to the ears
Illuminating, flashing of lights from psychedelic trips of torture
The horrified manic looks,
As we drive erratically down a desert road.
Passing cacti and breathing in dry arid air
The sun setting down to a dark orange/bright red hell.

The flashes of a nearly perfect capture lay –
In the trunk of a Pontiac Sunbird.
The music, the music like soundwaves to our mind.
We can see the sound
We have become the sound
We have become the light
Passing by leather skinned lizards with masochistic claws,

Wanting to give you one more bite in the jugular before – The eternal
damnation of our soul’s ease.
The serpents black flickering tongue – Spreads
over the heavens
With a Hallelujah Chrysalis of poisoned tears.
We, looking for an escape to find peace again
But, knowing the only written word of our future is that of a Eulogy.
A eulogy given by family members who didn’t know us well enough
to care before.

All because of espionage and jealousy.
And the loss of love that wasn’t understood quickly enough.
The burning of a desert,
The scarring on the face of Mona Lisa
The victim that lay in his own bloodletting on torn towels – and
shredded t-shirts.
With the rips, that remind us
The struggle it was
The determination in us that caused our perfect lunacy to this near
perfect kill.
His false hopes of spiritual happiness
And wellbeing exposed
by his crooked cross on a cut chest.

Even though I’m terrified by the outcome.
As sheriffs, detectives, specialists all pace faster and faster behind our car
of forlorn sin.

The electricity already beginning to pop in our veins! The multiple
trips are scary, long, and all indicative
That we had almost masterminded the perfect crime.

So, now the collapsing rollercoaster ride has ended.
The song has ended.
Let me tell you how we came to this plunge into ridicule and reverie.
I’m Dante Moricelli “the Bible Belt Bachelor”
The name they stamped on me,
I’ve lost all identity and dignity now
I’m just a title, less of a man.
Because I erased a man from existence
Who deserved to die.
He took away the root to my soul,
My dear Nadine Angelis
She made my heart feel, She
made my blood pump
And he twisted my mind into only one way of thinking,
Left me with the confusion

Much like after an aneurysm
The pounding, splitting shards of glass as well
shakes to the wild howls of coyotes.

Releasing small increments of mania.

EIC: David L O’Nan is the Saturday Feature on Cajun Mutt Press with old storytelling poetry

These stories/poems/writing series were done around 2005/2006. The Bible Belt Bachelor originally was a book I was writing and eventually got bored writing since I had the whole book done in my mind, but had to do all the work. I guess when I was 24, I wasn’t quite ready to do that. I eventually chopped up what I wrote, and yet had fully written out and made several poems from the scraps. I also was writing several poem series at this time and the News Stand, a series of poems about a delusional addict struggling with the battles of mental health, drugs, and depression. The poems are on the link below with Cajun Mutt Press.

https://cajunmuttpress.wordpress.com/2021/07/24/c-m-p-saturday-special-feature/

And check my other links too.

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios: David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

Poem “Alone In My Car” by David L O’Nan

Poem by David L O’Nan : “Cartoon”

3 poems by David L O’Nan : Chameleon or Stallion, The Blood of the North Star & What is American Freedom?

Poem by David L O’Nan : “Clearly!” (2005) (Poetry, writings)

Poems by David L O’Nan : A Prince Was Born on Chartreuse Street & short poems

The Severance of Your Genius (in Little Papercuts) by David L O’Nan (poetry)

All of the poems (revised) from Avalanches in Poetry Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen by David L O’Nan

Tomorrow’s my birthday so more poetry by David L O’Nan : Poetry Series Chronicles of an 80’s childhood in segments & more

Slightly odd at times Micropoetry by David L O’Nan

Poetry series by David L O’Nan : Dreams as Told by the Aesthetic Sunlight

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with J.D. Casey IV from Cajun Mutt Press

with J.D. Casey IV

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

J.D. I entered a Halloween poem contest in grade school, won first prize, and that really fanned the flames.

My earliest influences were writers like Poe and Frost; as I got older I started getting into the beat poets. Then I discovered Hunter S. Thompson, and that’s when my passion for writing really sank in. All literary genres. not just poetry.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

J.D. : Ron Whitehead, hands down, that man is a powerhouse of poetic energy. Not many people have dedicated their lives to the craft the way he has. He went all in, and I love that. That’s where I strive to be in the future.

Q3: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing? Have any travels away from home influence your work?

J.D.: I was born in Colorado, grew up in Louisiana/Mississippi, moved up to Illinois a few years ago, and I’ve done my fair share of traveling. Mostly by bus and train. It’s most definitely an influence on my poetry and art. I love to draw and paint as well as write.

Q4: What do you consider the most meaningful work that you’ve done creatively so far?

J.D.: Cajun Mutt Press. Literature is extremely important to me. I like to believe I’m doing it justice by getting the words out into the world. I publish featured writers on our website every Mon/Wed/Fri, and full-length poetry collections in paperback.

Q5: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?

J.D.: When it saved my life. I got in a bad accident at work in 2008. Broke C2 in my neck and T3-T4 in my back. Then on top of several other things that were piling up, my mom passed of cancer in 2009. That put me in a tailspin of self-destruction. Eventually, I had to enter rehab. Once my mind was clear the poetry and art started pouring out like never before and I realized this is what I wanted to do in life. It brought me out of the dark.

Q6: Favorite activities to relax?

J.D.: I like to collect things. Books, bones, crystals, toys that I grew up with. Stuff like that. And I always like to have music playing. I’m a huge Deadhead but I love all music. I have pretty eclectic taste.

Q7: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

J.D.:

I Hear Your Music Night and Day by Dave O’Leary was recently published by Cajun Mutt Press in May, and I have a few more books lined up before the end of the year.

People can purchase a copy of I Hear Your Music Night and Day by following this link:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1639011633

“Poetry and short prose about the musical life and the lost words of youth, about the places where love might be found or misplaced and dreams not quite made and celebrity encounters and being short on funds and the necessity of bus rides and bus stops and homes and the small moments that resonate and, of course, cats.”

Manuscript submissions are currently CLOSED, but if you’d like to submit some work to be considered as a Featured Writer send 1-3 poems to cajunmuttpress@gmail.com along with a bio and author photo. All unpublished work, no simultaneous submissions. Please be patient for a response. I get a ton of emails.

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem of yours or others?

J.D.:

Well, it isn’t a single line, but this is one of my personal favorites that I’ve written…

A Shortlist of Things I Learned by my Late-30s

god has tits
jesus was black
the only race is human

life after death?
we’ll all know
eventually

. . . or we won’t

anger and hatred is a cancer
you gotta let that shit go

we’re labeled men and women
but we can be what we want
including something else
entirely

love who the fuck you love

cats are assholes
but cooler than dogs –

okay, that one is just an opinion

the world fucking sucks sometimes
but it can also be pretty cool
so it balances itself out

friends come and go
you’ll know the real ones
they stick around
or find their way back

money comes and goes
spend that shit
can’t take it with
but you CAN be buried with it

. . . because fuck ’em right?

when you reach a certain age
you start writing dumb lists
to put things into perspective

©2021-JDCIV

Q9: Who has helped you most with writing?

J.D.: My Beautiful Muse, Raissa. She’s my proofreader. I show her everything, and she’s always honest. Tells me if a line sounds wrong or suggests little edits here and there. She’s usually right.

BIO: James D. Casey IV is an artist, award-winning poet, author of seven poetry collections, and founder/editor-in-chief of Cajun Mutt Press. His work has been published in print and online by several small press venues and literary magazines internationally.

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Dave O’Leary

https://cajunmuttpress.wordpress.com/

Excerpts from interview with Kentucky Poet Ron Whitehead from 2019 in Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art Digest Issue 1

https://anthonywatkins.wixsite.com/btsmar2020/james-d-casey-iv-poems