Taste

in the ash yard hounds bluster and bark
a divine comedy of complaints,
why has she lost her taste for hell? 
the Trans Am boys do donuts in the dark

a divine comedy of complaints
circling like black hair in a bathroom drain, 
the Trans Am boys do donuts in the dark
slicking roadkill, surfing the blood of saints

circling like black hair in a bathroom drain
bad habits weed the craving void,
slicking roadkill, surfing the blood of saints
love was once a fentanyl rain 

bad habits weed the craving void
in the ash yard hounds bluster and bark,
love was once a fentanyl rain  
why has she lost her taste for hell?

Signs

Some people are
Fanatics about it
But I never go by
Zodiac signs.
I’ve always been
An exception to
What traits are
Ascribed to mine.
Even my days go
Contrary to
Daily predictions.
Apparently,
In my case, my
Destiny is not
Written in the stars.
It’s more like a
Matter of what’s
Scratched out
In the dirt with
Coal being my
Gem stone.
Maybe, that makes 
Earth my planet.
My spirit animal
Has always been
The maguey worm
At the bottom of
A bottle of mezcal.

The long-awaited 2nd volume of Horror Sleaze Trash: Poems has finally arrived!

Featuring poetry by Jeff Weddle, Rob Plath, Jessica Heron, John D Robinson, Damon Hubbs, Clarice Hare, James Diaz, Donna Dallas, John Tustin, Jay Maria Simpson, J.J. Campbell, Kristin Garth, Andy Seven, Rp Verlaine, C. Renee Kiser, Nadja Moore, Anthony Dirk Ray, John Knoll, Alan Catlin, Bogdan Dragos, Omar Alexandre, John Grey, Michael Lee Johnson, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Danny D. Ford, Devlin De La Chapa, Paul Tanner, Brian Rosenberger, Ben Newell, Saira Viola, Aimee Nicole, Johnny Scarlotti, David Boski, Matt Amott, Sherry Shahan, Joshua Jordan, G. Arthur Brown, John Yohe, Robert Guffey, Jacklyn Henry, PJ Grollet, Dustin King, Herman B. Triplegood, Eleanor Karinthy, Noel Negele, Dan Flore III, Ken Kakareka, Joseph Farley, Garvan Giltinan, Mather Schneider, Matt Dennison, Kyle Denner, Mendes Biondo, Daniel S. Irwin, Jason Melvin, Jon Bennett, Jeffrey Zable, Tohm Bakelas, Puma Perl, Judge Santiago Burdon, David Estringel, Damian Rucci, William Taylor Jr., John Grochalski, Mela Blust, Wolfgang Carstens, John Gartland, Alexander Poster, Paige Johnson, Walt Shulits, Scott Ferry, Jodie Baeyens, Noah David Roberts, Ruth Niemiec, Jay Passer, David J. Thompson, John Sweet, and Joseph Fulkerson.

FREE DOWNLOAD AVAILABLE

BUY A COPY HERE

Tiny Desk Confessional

(to Effie)

Eye of the port
as the storm nears
imperial bedrooms quaking underneath zodiac trees
last supper inspiration
from a deck of cards
where communion has been rendered anything but
roller-derby brawler at the end of the world
fall down
crash
burning bright
a celestial tigress aflame
claws tearing vapid skies
truth telling in a realm of toxic positivity
where the land that isn’t your land
is just the land
and so are you
skin to skin
beauty marks
corresponding with astrological projection
where do we find the reflections of oneself
but in other’s existential dread
in genuine paths 
in the places of dead roads
where romance has no place to fluctuate
but the nature of one’s being
alone
no longer withholding
the desperation of truth
we all wish to speak
a tiny desk
confession
the root of it all

Hits and Tits

two women
posted pictures
showing their breasts

the first woman
was naked
her nipples just there
hanging out
like cow udders 

the other woman
was talking about self help
but positioned the camera
right on her cleavage

I really shouldn’t be
seeing either of their breasts
I’m just scrolling through social media
but since I am

I can’t help but imagine
their breasts in a wrestling match
swatting at each other

until one woman’s tits
finally pins the other
with more likes

Fuckin’ Pussy Licker 

Fuckin’ pussy licker, 
I said 
as piss skipped 
unwittingly 
down the front 
of my pants 
as I was 
taking a piss. 
As a cockroach 
skittered up 
the wall 
and into 
the cupboard 
before I could 
obliterate him. 
As the clock 
struck 8
and I was late 
to be somewhere.
As my head 
throbbed 
from a migraine
that sprang upon me 
10 minutes earlier 
like an unwelcomed 
guest. 
As it was 
a week before 
Christmas 
and I realized 
Christmas day 
was going to be 
80 and sunny 
in Fullerton, California. 
As my wife 
snuck up 
behind me, 
bit my ear, 
and squeezed 
my lonjas 
and said, 
Lick my pussy, 
bitch.

horror, adj. inspiring or creating loathing, aversion, etc.

sleaze, adj. contemptibly low, mean, or disreputable

trash, n. literary or artistic material of poor or inferior quality

Welcome to HSTQ: Winter 2023, the curated collection from Horror, Sleaze and Trash!

Featuring poetry by Scott Ferry, Eleanor Karinthy, John Tustin, John Gartland, PJ Grollet, C. Renee Kiser, Paige Johnson, Rob Plath, Joseph Farley, Damon Hubbs, Herman P. Triplegood, Jacklyn Henry, Kristin Garth, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, and Donna Dallas.

Get your FREE ebook here!

one last run at greatness

the spanish princess is 
a vision in red

the gasoline to my desires

the energy propping up 
this old soul for one last 
run at greatness

suicide lovers racing against 
time, against all the powers 
that be

trying to prove love can still 
find a light in a world of darkness

reaching for a sun that gives 
more than just cancer

a sweet kiss on the edge 
of the night

endless miles between us

hope a flailing mistress 
in the wind

you live by the sword, you sadly 
know how you are going to die

a field of black roses

a sunset on the western plain

you once had a dream that 
your lover took you to the 
mountains and made love 
to you before the lions came 
to eat you

welcome to a brand-new tomorrow

kind of perfect

the perfect poem doesn’t exist
nor does the perfect blow job
the perfect cover band
or the perfect alibi

but so what
the blow job broke a long dry spell
the cover band flailed and screamed
the alibi held up for a while
and the poem appeared in a zine
edited by insane people 
all during a week when chaos
battered the rich man’s stock market

and that’s kind of perfect
in a don’t give a fuck
kind of way

FIRST POEM ON THE NEW BAD BOY

I’m writing this on a 24″ screen computer
that just made me US$1100+ poorer,
and such amount may not seem like much
to a European or North American reader,
but for a low-income neighborhood
third-world 25-year old poet
this is close to (if not) a financial suicide.

And to think I started writing on tiny pieces of paper.
Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.

I’m also sitting next to 70oz of beer,
and I’m going to type the most expensive poems on earth
with the help of this bad boy.

Now, on to the next poem!
The beer is finite,
but the will
isn’t.