Category Archives: Ben Smith
ben smith | falling apart at the seams & four other poems
koraly dimitriadis | poetry or pornography?
Koraly Dimitriadis is a Cypriot-Australian writer of poetry, prose and non-fiction. In mid 2009 she was selected to participate in the Overland masterclass for her short story ‘The recipe’ and since then has been a regular blogger for Overland. ‘The recipe’ Continue reading koraly dimitriadis | poetry or pornography?
ben smith | cold leftovers
Cold Leftovers There will be no more Burroughs. No more Bukowski’s. There will never be another Ginsburg. There will never again be a world famous poet. There will only be me and others like me. Others who hulk around In Continue reading ben smith | cold leftovers
ben smith | drunk at the matinee
Lickin’ ya lips The first time I ever smelt pussy I was in the pub with my dad. A man we were playing pool with stuck two dirty fingers under my nose and said “you smell that boy? You smell Continue reading ben smith | drunk at the matinee
benjamin smith | Cộng hoà Xã hội Chủ nghĩa Việt Nam
Dead in trenches The trenches in Hue, Where men once died, Now grow daisies and Lizards trip out In the dragon fruit vines. While the soldiers Hear this same poesy bullshit Day in and day out While they wait patiently Continue reading benjamin smith | Cộng hoà Xã hội Chủ nghĩa Việt Nam
Eight Shots by Ben Smith |
The shoot Porn often ends in a one woman victory against he world of man. Blowing warm white chunks and spitting spoof bubbles at the camera. Crying out Shit, like; “Fuck me in my ass You piece of shit Fuck Continue reading Eight Shots by Ben Smith |
ben smith | with big red boobs & after sex
With big red boobs We argue with Everyone in the room And i throw a cup of water On the floor and It smashes while people move around To avoid the broken glass “You only defend her Cause you want Continue reading ben smith | with big red boobs & after sex
ben smith | shaving my balls
Shaving my balls | part 1 There has got to be something Therapudic About clipping away at your pubes. Hacking through the vines. Un earthing the pale And wrinkley little man Who talks a whole heap of Piss. Like Indiana Continue reading ben smith | shaving my balls
ben smith | polaroid
Polaroid. There is a polaroid, With my pants down, And a fat drained slug Of a dick peeling out from an over bush of black pubis, It looks brown And sunburnt, Lounging across my leg. I try to remember that Continue reading ben smith | polaroid