“Ant run”

 

Ben Smith

 

 

 

For ages

a long

Line of ants

Ran along the front

Of the house

 

I didn’t want to

Fuck with em cause

They never did

Nothing to nobody

 

But then

One morning

They came inside and

Were walking

All over

The inside floor

And pissing

in the sugar tin

So i sprayed them

With mortien.

and

They stayed

Very still

And started to

drop like

cracked pepper

And fall into the stones

Of the garden bed

To die

With little grains of

Sugar in their mouths

That they were carrying

Back to the queen

Like

Every good

bloke

in history

ever

did.

 

 

 

“Dead flies”

 

Ben Smith

 

 

 

I collect 16 dead flies

from the windowsill

and put them in

a tea up.

 

My sister

wants to talk about death

so i put the cup on her

bed and say

 

“These son a bitches

Has as much right to live

As me and you”

 

Space and time i say.

Like i’m

Einstein.

 

Space and time.

 

I finger them

with a curious finger.

 

they smell.

 

When i pretend to drink them

she vomits in the sink.

 

Like Einstein

I sit on her bed and

Listen to the sick

Hit the bowl.

 

There is nothing

Going on here

But madness.

 

 

 

“New Year’s Resolution”

 

Ben Smith

 

 

 

I haven’t had a solid shit

In weeks

And the only thing i

Feel like talking about is

Getting a double barrel shotgun

And splitting my head like

A cantalope.

But i make a resolution

anyways

To kick the booze

Smokes

And

Sleaze.

 

It doesn’t stop after

A couple of days

But i make ’em any ways

And fret about the two things.

 

That’s it,

The only two things

That are running through my head.

 

Solid shit

and

my head popping open

and filling the room

with

red stuff.

 

Its a fucking good thing

that

Nothing

Changes.

 

 

Ben Smith is a bit of a filthy cunt. During the day he is a working-class chump and at night he drinks beer, annoys his missus with dreams of being a genius and blogs sleaze on the Internet. It's a shame really, cause I think without all the faux pas and extremities he would probably be a fairly nice guy. If he could just get over himself long enough to relax and stop pushing it all so hard. He lives in Melbourne, Australia, and is working on a new book of poetry called Horror Sleaze and Trash.