Arthur Graham’s Reviews > Horror Sleaze Trash: Poems > Status Update

poets are poets because they have nothing better to do
poets are poets because they have too much to do
poets are poets because if you’re going to pick
one dead art it might as well be an easy one

Write your boring
little heart out
Write like you
actually have
something to say
If your writing
meets the standards
of contemporary poetry
You’ll be awarded
a friend request
on Facebook
by some other
guy with an
equally small penis
waiting to praise
your boring poetry
in the hopes that
you’ll do the same

The Way You Laugh
David P. Bates

here’s your goddam
cranberry juice
and tampons

oh poor baby
is your ego bruised

hell no I
told the clerk
I like to dip ’em
and suck ’em

you’re disgusting

oh yeah I say
as I lift your legs
pull down your pajamas and
pull the cord with my teeth

This Poetry Business
John D. Robinson

“Okay, so what is it?
that some poems of yours
have appeared in a
literary publication?
what does that mean?
what does it do for you?
so fucking what!
who gives a shit?
blow it up my ass!
the world doesn’t
know or notice shit
like that, it’s far too
busy!
and what’s the point
of it all?”

“I don’t know”
I answered.

Alaska
Craig Sernotti

He invites you up to Alaska.
You spend the week
wishing he didn’t have a mullet
and bending over so he can
fuck your ass.
When you get home you
wish you had stayed.
He stops calling and answering your e-mails.
You try to forget him.
Your husband fucks your ass
but it isn’t the same.

porn star
J.A. Carter-Winward

i don't look like a supermodel,
but i fuck like a porn star.
let me take that back—
not quite like
a porn star...
i won't let you come on my face
and i won't be faking it

when I come
on yours.

The wise man Chris Rock once said
“You’re not going to find a guy
who listens to Wu-Tang
and watches Seinfeld”
and I laughed cause I had one,
but
actually his dick was too small
and he was inherently
unfaithful
selfish
to the bone.

So slap it beat it twist it buzz it bang it yank it
taste your sweet slime afterwards
and pretend it's been mixed with my pimp juice
because when you are alone
anything goes
and it doesn't do me any harm
if in that sick head of yours
I'm being held down
while you and seventeen of your closest friends
take turns pegging me
while dressed like Rainbow-Bright Pegasuses

the poem man
Ben John Smith

Sat down
late at night and
wrote two poems

They were both
shit

Drank a
whole bottle
of port and
punched myself
in the side of the head

Until I
felt sick
and vomited
on the sofa

Wrote this poem
and went to bed

Woke up
and nothing had
changed

Nothing ever really does

Things She Said to Him
Michael Crane

You take the good with the bad.
You’re a good person and a wicked artist.
You’re very sensitive.
I find you intriguing.
You’re a strong person.
I like your penis.
You’re not too crusty for an old guy.
You’re funny.
You’re one sexy mother.
You make my day.
My kids like you.

All these thoughts
crossed his mind
as she came screaming
towards him with
a butcher knife.