Horror Sleaze Trash: Poems

by Arthur Graham (Editor), Johnny Scarlotti, Jon Bennett

Featuring the poets and poetry of Horror Sleaze Trash.

Genres: Poetry

239 pages, Paperback

First published March 1, 2019

About the author

Arthur Graham writes and edits for a living. Cofounder and former head editor of Rooster Republic Press. Current Editor in Chief of Horror Sleaze Trash.

Reviews

[Melki · Rating 4 out of 5]

sometimes these things write themselves
J.J. Campbell

i was coming
home from the
store today

i drove past
a cemetery
and there
was a funeral
going on

i noticed the
song playing
on the radio
was another
one bites the
dust by queen

i laughed and
reached for pen
and paper

Arthur Graham unveils a big thick book o' poetry sure to please the palates of . . . um, well . . . people looking for unusual verse, I suppose. There are funny poems, sad poems, and downright nasty poems. I prefer the funny ones, and all the ones by Ben John Smith and Johnny Scarlotti.

And, tough guy poets knitting circle by John Grochalski is worth the price of admission alone . . .

(excerpt) :

i'm a dishwasher, one tough guy poet writes
so everything i put down on paper is authentic and
real

fuck that, another misunderstood wordslinger posts
i drive a truck, so that makes me the chosen one

yeah, well, i worked in the warehouses, another
chimes in
that is, until i got my cushy librarian job

but i'll still take any fucker in a bar


Poetry.
It's not for the faint of heart.

[Janie · Rating 5 out of 5]

A thoroughly entertaining compilation that made me smile, snicker, cringe and applaud, sometimes all at once. This comprehensive collection was wholly satisfying due to the intoxicating mix of subjects, emotions and writing styles. Keep 'em coming, HST.

[Arthur Graham · Rating 5 out of 5]

BUY A COPY or DOWNLOAD FREE

[Charles · Rating 4 out of 5]

This can be a great gateway to reading poetry for people who have darker (or just grosser) leanings and have a dislike of poetry due to a negative experience with it (probably in school). The book is divided into horror poems, sleaze poems and trash poems (and non-classifiable poems) and the selections for each section are appropriate. Generally speaking the poetry is highly readable and conversational. The poems run the spectrum in terms of pushing the reader's buttons, offending taste and throwing the spotlight on situations and feelings that we are socially conditioned not to acknowledge as part of who we are and how human interactions work. There is definitely a strong influence of Bukowski that runs throughout. I cruised through this book in a day and remembered how fun it can be to read poetry again and the many types of economy the medium can provide. There was a wide variety of styles, voices and themes. A few of my favorites were "Interview with a Poet," "Japan 2004" and "Ridiculous Male Bravado."

[Jason · Rating 5 out of 5]

I took my time reading this collection, savouring the fine poems contained within. One of the things I dislike with their quarterly releases is the length, you just get into it and boom it's over. In this book that has been overcome as you get 240 pages crammed full of poems/prose by some of my favourite writers, Johnny Scarlotti, Ben John Smith, Scott Laudati, Rebecca Gransden, A. Lynn Blumer, John D. Robinson and Leah Mueller just to name a few....even the mighty Harry Whitewolf manages to slip one in. (hehe)

The book has been nicely split into THREE parts, poems based around Horror, Sleaze and Trash....and a fourth part at the end which I think is the editors ripping off the Marvel movies by giving you an extra bit at the end.

There was one poem that stood out far above the others which I'll include here as a sample to entice you into giving the book a go, this is the best poem I've read this year:

Rhetorical Question
David Boski

after sitting there
listening
to their tedious conversation
where they relentlessly insulted
all men
from
all walks of life
referring to them with names
such as:
assholes
douchebags
and
liars
amongst other things
while suggesting that
it was impossible
for them to find
anybody
even remotely
worth dating
in this
big city of ours
I finally
took a sip of my beer
and proposed
a simple question –
“did you ever think that,
perhaps you’re a cunt?”

This book lives up to it's name as being horrifying, sleazy and trashy and I highly recommend it because it is also great fun.

Blog review: https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2019...

[Casey Kiser · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolute Fire. Drinking games? Who needs Cards Against Humanity when you got Horror Sleaze Trash? Just saying. I see you $carlotti. This really is as good as it gets. Great job, Arthur. We salute you. And your leopard panties.Truly, an incredible collection!!! Shout out to my very faves in no special order: ‘Fucking’ A. Lynn Blumer, ‘I Write Poetry’ Corey White, ‘Can’t Stop’ and ‘New Girl’ Johnny Scarlotti, Love Poems’ Omar Alexandre, ‘Making Feminism Great Again’ India LaPlace, ‘Porn Star’ J.A. Carter-Winward, ‘The Dick Died Inside’ Rebecca Gransden, ‘Exhumer’ Benjamin Blake, ‘’Lovely Filth’ Winter Zakalwe, ‘’The Broken Stripper’ Karl Koweski, ‘Definition’ Aneka Brunssen, ‘This Poetry Business’ John D. Robinson, ‘Vicious Girls’ Stephanie Wytovich, ‘’Charitable’ Vanessa De Largie, ‘I Know I’m Addicted’ Cassandra Dallet, ‘Piss on it’ Arthur Graham, ‘Drunk’ $carlotti.

[Jen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Friends, lately it has come to my attention that my views on poetry have been circumscribed by that rich pedagogical tradition which so often blurs the line between edification and deterrence, that is; English class. Thankfully, betwixt these (now thoroughly soiled) pages, I discovered the vital energies necessary to kick the vile albatross of academia directly in the Newton’s Cradle and drive it back, with its bollocks loudly clattering all the while, to the stultifying habitat from whence it came. It should be said, (or perhaps should go without saying, if you are inclined to appreciate the female form), that the cover had everything to do with my initial interest, and not, it must be clarified, any high minded notions of overcoming this insidious programming. So thank you, beautiful stranger, for casting your lustful geas upon this uncultured swine, thus ensnaring me to peruse, in full, the strange pleasures of verse.

Succubus with canted face,
Smiling obliquely.
What lascivious iconography does she inscribe on the canvas?
On the page - prolly nothin,
In my brain - lewd dioramas,
Irrigating fissures, sulci, and gyri with sapphic grease fires.
Reason tragically hoisted by its own petard,
As pail of water summersaults,
“Remember the porkchop, dumbass”
Water displacing oil and erupting,
Swift like Rambo,
A phase transition in the glial hedges,
Serpents of steam coiling through deep groves,
Like that stupid smoke monster from Lost,
Traversing invisible dimensions between thought and matter.
The construct of the “I” in hazy silhouette,
Like the refractive camouflage utilized by The Predator,
In the Blockbuster Movie - Predator.
Now a limbic constriction,
A hardening of nipple,
Fidgeting, fidgeting, fidgeting.
Arnold crying; “Kill me! I’m here!”
Insisting; “Come on! Do it now!”
Throwing head back and moaning,
Defeated, the alien hunter self destructs;
“Shit happens”
La petite mort.
Pulled loin first into unfamiliar staccato realms,
Where meaning has been ruptured,
Reconstructed in piñata autopsy,
Now convalescing in my frontal lobes.
There she sits,
Fingering archaic machinery,
Does she hunt and peck,
Or does she QWERTY?
(This would be a perfect time to use the word dirty.)
Percussions, punctuations, peck, peck, peck,
Registering keys with my heart,
premature ventricular contractions.
Like Kevin Bacon, I stay on residual boulders,
Aware that Tremors localize seismic activity.
“Stampede Earl!”
There she goes again,
Her thoughts galloping like fingers on a countertop.
Except when she’s unsure and there’s no rhythm at all.

[Stephen McQuiggan · Rating 5 out of 5]

See that ball of slime arcing across the literary void? That's just HST hitting it out of the park again. Ben John Smith finds a touching redemption in the last six lines of 'Big Shot'; Rebecca Gransden raises a smile as she confirms all my fears of the female species, whilst Chelsea Oliver confirms all my shame of the male; JJ Campbell just made me laugh. Another fine outing for the malicious mavericks of HST.

[Rayjan Koehler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some left me scratching my head thinking "What the hell did i just read?"

It had me glued to the end though- so i suppose it did it's job.

I got the free download, and didn't buy a physical copy which would be hard to hide what I was reading in public (Maybe even saved from being kicked out of places).

[India · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a great collection filled with a variety of really wonderful writers.

[Jack Stark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Spoopy Filthy Detritus. Not enough tits.

[A. Blumer · Rating 4 out of 5]

HST Press never ceases to deliver a wild variety of Poetry true to their namesake. What I loved most about this collection was it felt like being at a basement rager where each poet hands you a different drug or drink with the only context being "you'll survive", but for a moment there you're not sure if you will. You do survive, but you still wake up naked under the hedges, your gut in knots and cheeks sore from laughter while you recollect the evening with your thumb stuck in your own mouth.

An experience not for the faint of heart, but a worthwhile lesson is there if you can just survive the night.

[Sherron Wahrheit · Rating 4 out of 5]

Warning: satire with triggers of probably every sort possible. I have too many triggers, but I also have a fucked up sense of humor. This book is available under Arthur’s review, so I read two dozen pages or so.

For some reason, this book was in my search results when looking for any book pertaining to Corey Quinn, a scathingly humorous cloud expert. But I don’t think he wrote any of these....?

[Katie · Rating 4 out of 5]

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