POEM EXCERPT – Ben John Smith

Posted: October 1, 2011 in Fiction, Poetry
Tags: , , ,

From the “Self Saterized Anxiety” chap book

 

There is

red lipstick on

my cigarette butt

 

and

 

blonde hair,

from my wig,

keeps getting stuck

to the side of

my face.

 

I just

brush it away

like the pretty

ladies do in

the movies.

 

We drain a bottle of Jack

at about noon

and a case of Corona.

 

She has a tattoo

on her ankle

that says

cunt.

 

Larry sits in the

front seat and

laughs.

 

The night before

today

 

I spent at the docklands

watching  the fireworks.

 

Well,

 

we missed the fire works

and my mum got upset,

but at least we heard them

boom,

 

and splash,

 

on the building

windows.

 

A lady took photos

on her phone

of her child in

a pram.

 

My dad says

 

“That fookin baby

should have a hat on,

that’s how kids

catch cot death.”

 

Photos of fireworks

always look stupid

and forced.

 

Like suspended lights

that should be exploding.

 

“I wish I was a

Fire work”

 

Says my dad.

 

For some reason

I think he

really means

it this time

 

 

I don’t think

I have ever seen

him

brush his teeth.

 

In fact

 

I love the smell

of his breath so much

it kills me

that he has to.

 

Once he pulled out

a tooth at the dinner table

with a pair of pliers.

 

I dropped a pillow in

the hotel hall

and I asked my sister Jess

If she could pick it up

 

She said

 

“Who do you think I am

Lance Armstrong?”

 

My other sister said

 

“Isn’t that the guy that

first walked on the moon”

 

I tell her that he is

the space man in

Toy Story.

 

She nods in agreement.

 

I don’t think

she heard what I said.

 

When I got home

I wasn’t wearing any underpants

and there was lipstick

smudged all over my face.

 

I stood up at the dinner

table

 and

flipped my plate

in the air and said

 

“SHUT UP MUM!

CANT YOU SEE IM A WORLD
FAMOUS POET!”

 

It’s obvious she can’t

and I am sent to my room.

 

I wonder,

under the blankets,

if Bukowski

had to deal with this shit.

 

I tried to take a piss

out the window of the

moving car but

the wind gave me stage freight

and my foreskin just flapped

in the cool air

like a fleshy wind sock.

 

 

I remember once seeing

a photo of a man

cumming into the hollows

of a woman’s feet.

 

She had them in the air

and the jizz was running from

her toes and into her

mouth.

 

She looked like

 

that Latino chick

from White Men Can’t Jump

and I Imagined her

saying

 

“Don’t be so

Stooped Billy

 

How many foods

start with the letter Q.”

 

That was a peak for me.

 

Nothing will ever turn

me on as much

as that did.

 

I’m in

limbo.

 

Forever in

Limbo.

 

Like Major Tom,

 

Or Robert Capa

 

Or Crispin Glover.

 

Some kind of

self satirized

anxiety.

 

The internet

has taught me

that every one

is exactly the

same;

 

Except for me.

 

Sometimes.

 

But not always.

 

You see;

 

She always supports me

in every dumb move

I ever make.

 

I never support her.

 

I blew 100 bucks

on a portable DVD player

in China and I have

never even turned it on.

 

She spent 70 bucks

at an Indian fortune teller

in Thailand

and I threw wads

Of cash from our Tuk Tuk

as I yelled at her

for wasting our money.

 

I’m sure I have damaged her

 

No one can put up with

this much bullshit.

 

Tonight she took

half a bottle of red wine

to bed with her

and mistook

my Prozac for sleeping pills.

 

She took 4,

Then laid on the couch

 

and burped her

self

like a baby.

 

Sometimes when she wakes up

and I watch her change

the creases of the

blankets are still

cut

into

her

                   outer

thigh

and her cheek.

 

Her ass cheek.

 

I sent a message to one friend

asking if he could

please ring me tomorrow

 

because

 

“I have something important to tell you”

 

Then I rang another friend

who might be able to

get me a gun

today

 

so if I gather enough balls

I might be able

to shoot my self

In the face

tonight.

 

I swear to God

sometimes I think

I have lots of foreskin

 

She says

 

“What’s that honey?”

 

I say

 

“Nothing

Babe,

 I’m sure you will

Find out

soon enough.”

 

She does her

hair in the mirror

and

if she keeps bending

over like that

one of us is going

to get arrested.

 

Again.

 

She wipes

potato and gravy

off her tits

and sucks her finger.

 

Things like that

sometimes

make me cry.

 

I start to

wrap a string of beaded pearls

around my dick

but she slaps them

out of my hands.

 

They get lost under the bath tub.

 

It wasn’t her necklace.

 

It was my mums.

 

I spend the next

three hours in the bath

drinking beer and

running more hot water

when its gets to

cool.

 

The radio is on

and when the water level

gets too high

I just let it splash onto the floor.

 

I have been playing

so much

World of war

I think I may

have shell shock.

 

I never get the recognition

I deserve,

 

I pretty much

won World War Two

single handedly.

 

I used to pretend to forget

my bathers for

school swim days

cause I was afraid

of my body

 

but now all I

want to do

is be naked.

 

She always

Says before a party

 

“Please babe,

your aloud

to have a

good time

but the girls don’t

always want to

see your dick

all the time.”

 

And I’m pretty sure their

boyfriends think

you’re a fucking

small dicked

scum bag.”

 

There is a

spastic beside

the bus

and he is marveled

by a flower.

 

He spins it in his fingers

and watches in the sun

with bug eyes

and his retarded

mind.

 

He laughs

a retarded laugh.

 

Smiles a retarded smile.

 

College students

walk by with a cigarette

and iphone.

 

They complain about

politics

and art

and spelling.

 

The bus leaves

and

I leave the genius

to his flower and

the complaining to

the fools.

 

People always tell me

that my mum is hot

 

I tell them to shut up

but I still feel stupid

cause deep down

I know they are

right.

 

Deep down is

where it always

feels stupid.

 

I’m pretty sure

I’m going to be happy 

one day.

 

Happy or gay.

 

Possibly gay

but only

in a happy way.

 

If I was gay

I’d want to be with

either Elvis

or Kanye West.

 

Not sexually.

 

I’d just like to hang out

with them and play Xbox.

 

Maybe drink a few beers

and just see

where the night takes us.

 

I wouldn’t want to be

with Usher,

that’s for sure.

 

I’m insecure

enough already.

 

I’m certain

people hate me

on Facebook.

 

Strangers like

my status

but my friends

are all stuck up ass holes.

 

My status

at the moment is

 

“Ben,

 Did you just

put spray tan

on your dick”

 

but don’t quote me

on any of this,

I’m paraphrasing,

It’s what I do,

you see.

 

My sister

thinks I should

do calisthenics

because I have

sexy long legs

and a good turnout.

 

It’s like when people

tell you that

they would make brilliant

piano players

because they have

skinny fingers.

 

They wouldn’t.

 

Well,

they could be

if they wanted to learn.

 

But they won’t.

 

They never do.

 

We live in them

moments.

 

The moments that

never happen.

 

We could always

be better than

we are.

 

Shit…

 

I could have been a porn star

if I had a bigger dick,

more stamina

and was confident to

fuck on film.

 

Maybe if

I could fit

a traffic cone

into my asshole.

 

My mum once said

You can be anything you want

 

I said I want to be Jim Morrison.

 

She said

anything except Jim Morrison,

 

You will never be as cool

as Jim Morrison.

 

I didn’t understand

what she meant until

Amy Winehouse died.

 

And then it didn’t

matter anyway.

 

I was beyond

worrying

about that kind

of thing.

 

Sometimes if I’m drunk

I try and catch my

Piss.

 

As if the stream

were a silver rope.

 

If I’m pissing in a back yard

and it has dog I make sure

I piss on its tree.

 

Mark my spot.

 

Fuck that dog.

 

Confuse the shit

outta him.

 

Maybe I’d piss on the cat,

 

try and sort this argument out

once and for all.

 

About time

they patched things up.

 

I was in the bath

once and I pissed on my chest

just to check if I had a urine fetish,

 

I didn’t.

 

I just washed it off with

a wet flannel.

 

I hope no one

ever reads this book.

 

I’m going to

quit poetry soon.

 

I’m starting a new form

of writing

and I’m going to call it

 

“Words beside each other

in story form

by the semi retarded.”

 

The first book

is going to be called

 

“I have a wedgie

But I’m not wearing

Any underpants.”

 

Its auto biographical.

 

Do you think

You could ever

find your self

so attractive

 

you could

to lather your self

in whipped cream and

jack off to memories

of yourself in the shower.

 

If you jacked off in the

mirror you could

Make yourself cum?

 

Saying things like

 

“Oh Ben, Oh Ben,

You really are one nasty

mother fucker.

 

Keep going just

like that, it’s perfect.

 

You’re an

amazingly unselfish

lover.”

 

How about

thinking about

yourself having sex

with your self

during sex.

 

 Don’t know if

it’s possible

but I’ll try anything

at least

once.

 

Did you know;

 

Just a bit of

mindless trivia

to break up the

evening.

 

When you reach

60 your

60 percent

more likely

to have

down syndrome

complications

during child birth.

 

She says

 

“So as soon

as the baby is born

you get down syndrome?”

 

I say,

 

“Babe; I wish it was that easy.”

 

Now mind you,

These are not real figures

but its closer to the truth

than most stories you hear.

 

Well,

not really,

 

Maybe 60 percent more

true.

 

My grandma

used to tell me

 

“All’s well that

ends well.”

 

She was a real

trooper

my Grandma

 

A real optimist.

 

She

must have been

fucking spewing

in the end

cause it didn’t

exactly end well

for her and pop.

 

If all’s well

that ends well

then

all that’s well

is death

 

Or an orgasm.

 

But given a long enough time line

 

then it’s Always

 

death.

The orgasm ends

well before that.

 

Imagine it ended after.

 

Yeah,

 

I’m pretty much a

skeptic of heaven

myself.

 

Death is like one

of them annoying people

that you hate to hang out with

 

but have to get along with him

cause he is an important

client at your company.

 

When I die

if there is an after life

 

All I’m going to do

is worry if there

ss a life

after

the afterlife

 

 

And if there is;

 

I’m going to do the

same thing there,

 

Until forever.

 

Fuck em,

know what  I mean?

 

I’m a pain in the

Ass like that.

 

Dick head should

have never gave me

 

the choice if

it was going to depend on

so much.

 

I vomited

about 2 pints of

blood tonight.

 

Outta my mouth,

outta my ass.

 

I think I pushed this

drunk writer

bullshit a little too far.

 

At the hospital a boy

fights with his father

and walks out saying

 

“I hope you die in here”

 

A baby fights for life

through wet phlegmy breaths

and an old man looks

at the floor with out

a single thought running

through his peanut shaped

head.

 

At least if this

is

 

“it”

  

I can’t imagine

I’m going to miss

out on much.

 

I usually check my Facebook

every 6 to 8 minutes

at least.

 

Once on a cold

winter day in November

no one posted

for 3 of my refreshes.

 

I thought maybe I

had finally died

and this was

some kind of

online

purgatory.

 

I felt alone and

so anxious I couldn’t

leave my room

until a woman

in Canada

said that she had

left her Boyfriend

 

I breathed again and

went to the fridge for

a beer and

a packet of

shaved Virginian ham.

 

My mum must spend

so much money on

ham because I just eat

It straight from the

packet in a thick slab.

 

People always make

jokes about spam

but I don’t understand them.

 

I think spam is

pretty cool.

 

Underneath her

pillow in the spare room

I wrote

 

“Are you laying

down babe”

 

there was no answer

for a few days

so I wrote

 

“Babe?”

 

With a question mark

beside it.

 

Maybe she thought it was

a statement and

it didn’t need a response.

 

Silly bitch,

 

I have been stressing out

about it

for years.

 

There was once

so many cum socks

under my bed

 

that there

was a sock

shortage in the house.

 

I’ll always remember it as

 

“The great sock outage of 99.”

 

Me and my dad

had to wear crocks

and get blisters from

our work boots.

 

Shit was hectic

until I had the house

to myself and

did two loads of sock

washing.

 

Then I threw them all in

the next door neighbors bin…

 

What was I going to do

for the love of Pete?

 

Slowly

introduce them back

into circulation?

 

Not an option.

 

People would

start asking questions.

 

Now we use

toilet paper

and I just pretend

I have a cold all

year round.

 

I hope my children

never turn

out the way I have

 

but I if they do

I hope they

find a love

like mine.

 

There would be

nothing worse

than growing old

with someone you hate.

 

Making love

at 80 would be hard enough,

or not hard,

enough of the time.

 

I am lucky

In them ways.

 

Unlucky

In others.

 

Tonight I went to

bed,

 

after a few too many drinks,

 

and I had a dream

that I wrote a book

 

called

 

Self Satirized Anxiety

 

That was

 

filled with all my secrets

and not only did

I read em to a crowd

 

I actually had them for sale,

 

and some sick enough

mother fuckers

even bought them.

 

It’s a god damn strange place

this one,

 

filled to the brim with

 

creeps

and

perverts

 

house wife’s

and desk clerks.

 

Rainbows

and

lollypops.

 

Bukkake

and

bourbon.

 

      People looking at me

                    waiting to finish

                                   this ridiculous pile

                                                 of self indulgent,

                                                             over the top,

                                                                          vain attempt at

                                                                                       white middle class, witty

                                                                                                     and subversive, look at me,

                                                                                                                  egotistical and wanky,  

                                                                                                                                         self absorbed

                                                                                                                                                      bullshit.

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