Horror Sleaze Trash Paperback – April 9, 2013

This book kind of caught me by surprise. It was a pleasant surprise!Its layout is awesome and the writing is bold and raw. There is a little too much masturbation and beer drinking but overall the tone and style is charming. This is a young, exciting voice. Reminds me of an Australian Zygote in my Coffee type -- perhaps an illegitimate son of Bukowski.The book is gripping. It is a quick read.

I rarely read poetry but this book kept me intrigued with the genre of the poems in this book. Thought it was cool read.

I like poetry. I like it better when it has a solid concept I can grasp.This book has the simple concept promised by its title: Horror, Sleaze, Trash.The rest is up to interpretation.It is split into sections, where each third is framed around one third of the title.The poems are often anecdotal, coming across raw and real, stripped of the gloss that makes poetry beautiful in that hollow, insincere way.I had to admire the time and effort it would have taken to format and present the collection as it was, the varied selection of fonts and sizes called attention to each poem's shape, making them pop.And as much as each poem is its own thing, the thematic cohesion and anecdotes spill into each other and bring the collection together.Poetry is crazy subjective, and crazy weird. It means so many different things to so many different people.I didn't fall in love with this collection, but I admire its realness, the honesty and tone of voice which burns throughout.This is what poetry is all about.

I feel bad for this Ben John Smith character. He seems to have quite a few problems, the foremost of which is this constant and incessant need to expose his drunken and wretched soul for the entertainment of those of us sadistic enough to listen. Ben John Smith suffers for his art like a sex-obsessed Jesus suffering for the foreskins of all mankind.What I'm saying is, this book is excellent. And now I'm going to tell you why:I never really considered myself a "poetry guy." I once took a creative writing class, years and years ago, and there was this dude in the class who always wore a black turtleneck and blue jeans who would write poetry. He would read his stuff in front of the class; poems about riding on trains. Very paced, very metronomic. And when he was done, he would pause and slowly look up with one eyebrow arched, like we were all supposed to drop to our knees and start kissing his Birkenstocks for blessing us with his words. That was my perception of poetry. Until I got my hands on some Horror Sleaze Trash.Herein are poems that are written to expose something ugly. Something uncomfortable. Something equal parts hilarious and painful. This takes true talent. This isn't self-congratulatory, black turtleneck, arched eyebrow poetry. This is poetry in the RAW! There's something visceral in Ben Smith's writing. Something desperate. Something enlightening. Something real. There is something very intentional about every word and how it's arranged on the page that just screams louder than the thunder THIS IS ART. And what he may lack in elaborate descriptions or flowery language, Smith more than makes up for with these emotional gut punches. And they don't stop. Some of the poems I had to read 2 or 3 times. Just because I couldn't believe so few words could have such an impact.If you're into poetry, you NEED to give this book a chance. If you're not into poetry, this book will certainly make great strides in changing your mind.

I was pleasantly surprised by this collection. Here, the poet and the publisher joined forces to develop a wonderful aesthetic composition, which fit nicely with the collection's title. As a rule, I personally hate reviewing poetry because then I feel like picking apart poems line-by-line and analyzing them for symbolism/metaphor and other poetry trash. Some of these poems remind me of the words that might be splattered in the bathroom stalls were Patrick Bateman was snorting coke (in New York yuppie night clubs). Schizophrenic and maniacal, I loved this book's presentation, and I have to give kudos to the overall design. This is guilty pleasure poetry at its best, if there is such a thing. It's like reading porn-poetry. That still doesn't describe it adequately. If pornstars could write, this is what it would look like. Or maybe not. Porn doesn't exist. It's flesh-poetry. Like this book.

"Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jeaousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkeness, orgies....." This piece of work is like stepping into the mind of a man who is able to express all the works of the flesh through his trials and tribulations. I am in love with the words on these pages. Simple words and statements brought together to give you a glimps into the male perspective. And not just any male; this book is def. a very personal collection of the author and how he views himself in his work,as well as how others view it. CHUMP is one of my favorite ones that illustrates this as well as THE BEST POEM I EVER WROTE and YOUR F****ING RING. Other poems like THE BIG FELLA, PEPPERS TITS and CEMETERY HOTPANTS were fun reads, and if you can believe it I actually can relate to SHAVING MY BALLS (at least part 3 ha!). What I loved about these poems, is every one made me think or reevaluate my role as a female in a male female relationship. I'm a girl, the author a man, I feel I have more of the second side of the story now. The book as a whole has a very conflicting almost self depricating undertone feel to it that is picked up right away but still manages to convey an almost nonchalant comical voice. I love everything about this book from the cover, to the poems, to the bio and thank yous (I am intrigued by this D'Arne, being the best creature ever created and all. To quote THE DRIVE, I will leave you with this, "When I finish it, my eyes tear up and I tell him it was good. It was just kinda sad." Horror Sleaze Trash is my bedside table book