It’s
a breezy summer day and the rustling from the leaves outside sound like
whispers from my small apartment. I’m sitting in front of my laptop,
silently studying the 1.6 billion faces speaking simultaneously in front
of me. It’s Monday, the day of the weekly conference call between all
Muslims. We have been required to attend this Skype meeting from the the
tender age of fetus, but I had never spoken in one of them before.
That changes today.
“Hey guys, what if…” I start to say.
Nobody
hears me, but I refuse to be silent. How could I show my face again on
Tumblr if I couldn’t even save my mayonnaise friends from death? How
could I expect to earn their respect? Anon was right; why hadn’t I done
this before? Thousands of lives had paid the price for my ignorance, but
not anymore.
“What if you guys….. stopped killing people.“
Suddenly, silence.
1,643,398,023 pairs of eyes are on me. My heart is in my throat as the ISIS leader gives me a blank expression.
A single tear rolls down my cheek. "Please.” I say with a broken voice.
He is moved.
“Aight”.
My
fingers are almost shaking as I carefully type in the ten digit phone
number I have had memorized my entire life. The buttons on my home phone
seem to glow a bit more dull, and even the ringing of the phone from
the other end seems to be agonized, almost as if the world is telling me
to hang up. But I refuse to give up; I can’t let my white lily friends
down. Not again.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Still no answer. Just as I am about to hang up, there is a click.
All I can hear is heavy breathing.
“Hello….” I say quietly, my voice shaking. “Is….. Is this Muslim?”
There was a long silence before I heard a voice answer “ya lol”.
“I was thinking………..” I begin cautiously. “Maybe murder is…………bad.”
“Habibi, I…..I don’t understand. What are you trying to say….?” The voice seems shaken.
“What if…….world peace is good and killing people is…………not good”
He lets out an audible gasp. “Are you saying ISIS is…….bad?”
“Maybe death is…….not good.” I continue. My heart is racing. I remind myself that I am saving thousands of lives, and inhale.
The
silence from the other end of the line is almost deafening. He seemed
to be thinking, as if he had never considered this idea before in his
life. Truly I had opened his heart and his mind. This…. This could end
terrorism.
“Muslim….Please.” I whisper.
I hear a tear roll
down his cheek, with my Muslim Communication Hearing™ and hold my breath
as he finally breathes out his next words.
“Kk.”
Two years in the making, Ben John Smith's second hard cover collection of poetry, and predecessor to Air a Boire, is finally here, and ready to be flogged! Featuring the extremely brilliant composition work and inlay design of German trash artist THS (www.ths.nu).
My horrible typos and silly word slinging has been painstakingly edited by my good friend and fellow writer for HST, Ian Shearer; with special thanks to Mike Daily for being such a dude. This is not the collection of artists featured in HST over the past few months, this is a book i started long before the HST was even thought about.
108 pages; 6" x 9", jacket-hardcover binding, cream interior paper (50# weight), black and white interior ink, white exterior paper (100# weight), full-color exterior ink. Jacket Wrap and gold embossing on cloth spine.
While i have tried to keep the price as absolutely low as possible (I'm making about 1 dollar from each book) i know it's still scrapped in a little steep but with out pissing in my pocket - it really is worth the money spent, not only for my poetry but for the entire feel and complete package only a hard cover like this can embody.
Obviously for adults only, i am very pleased to send this sucker out into the world and hope for a wide reception of feedback in any form, from any one! Please DO NOT buy this book if you are easily offended, have any shred of respect for me at all, don't want to hear stories about my penis, fear you may be exposed in one of these poems, are a family member of mine of D'Arnes,if you drink soy latte's or enjoy poetry about flowers and rivers. Any one else, please check it out with a grain of salt and a giggle and i thank you in advance for your support and on going communication.
Lets all get pissed and say silly things!
Double Peneteration
Double Penetration is Horror Sleaze And Trash's first publication; featuring the poetry of Ryan Quinn Flanagan and Ben Smith. A collection of 70 off-beat and low brow poems you imagine the pair to come up with in this mix of madness. 10 Aussie bucks will get this sucker to your door. A5 in size, about 80 pages, soft card cover with black and white insides. Buy it now, or don't, and wish you hadda, 25 limited copies. Great gift idea for your Grandmothers!
Drunk at the matinee
"Drunk at the matinee" is a collection of candid poetry about stupid shit that we all experience from day to day.
(ill put a better review up as soon as some one reads the fucking thing; and then lets me know that its a steaming heap of shit)
Sold out until further notice
I fucking love you, Bitch.
"I fucking love you, Bitch" is my new
card cover chap book, 25 pages, color cover
and b/w insides. Poetry based on the duality
of the sexes - but mainly filth and stories
that made my girl laugh.
Five bucks which will pay for shipping
and printing costs. Or free if ya send me a
cool letter.
"Mate, your off your tits." is my weekly spot on alternative reel. featuring dumb shit by a dumb cunt, doing dumb shit, you feel that?
Check the motherfucker out . com
GIANT.
Date: 2009
Details: Gluebook, 21 x 25,5 x 2 cm, mixed media (adhesive tape, spray paint, oil/color sticks, acrylic, paper, color and black&white prints on kid’s book), 24 pages, handmade, signed, unique piece
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