(First published poem from the early 1990’s for some school related book or something like that)

with his thumb and pointer finger

he spread her ass cheeks

exposing the puckered region

he leaned forward and nestled

his nose squarely atop her brown eye

he inhaled deeply to take in the aroma

it didn’t smell as bad as he’d thought

as a matter of fact

it smelled pretty good to him

he sniffed subtle

overtones of sweat and 

scents of animalistic pheromones

as well as feces

this made him beastly horny

his cock stiffened and he wanted

nothing more than to plunge

his member deep inside her

but he halted

as much as desire and instinct

told him to take her right then and there

he knew that he should call the

coroner and give his grandmother

the respect in passing

that she deserved

https://horrorsleazetrash.com/2022/08/04/anthony-dirk-ray-29/

(Originally published by The Beatnik Cowboy)

a mosquito hawk walks across the table

as stir-fry is on the stove

my glass is not yet empty

so I’ll attempt to write something

a pretentious

fantastical

far-fetched show 

about one guy trying to find

love from 30 or so different women

is on the television in the next room

this show has always struck me as

implausible and doltish

we are giving one man

30 women to choose from

all bidding for attention and

throwing themselves at him

such a foolhardy and asinine scenario

this show that numerous women watch

baffles me because this same man

on any given Saturday night 

would bend over backwards to 

bend over any one of these women

but now because of the cameras

and game show backdrop

he is king shit with the king dick

able to choose his perfect mate

but in actuality

a man goes out hoping he gets to fuck

a woman leaves the house

knowing whether or not 

she is getting fucked

it’s just so disheartening and counterfeit

my drink is drained

the stir-fry needs to be stirred

the mosquito hawk is nowhere in site

Anthony Dirk Ray

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

I stayed with my grandparents 

a lot as a young child.

my grandmother was a very

liberal person when it came

to the human body.

she would get undressed

in front of me, and allow me to

look at my grandfather’s 

playboys while he was at work.

she would be in the bed reading,

and I would be at the foot of the 

bed not reading the articles.

at night I slept in between

my grandparents in the bed.

on one occasion, my grandfather

was working the graveyard shift

at the paper mill, and it was 

just me and my grandmother.

we got into bed and I put

my little leg across her’s

as I usually did at night.

however, this time 

something strange happened,

and I said to my grandmother,

“Nana, you make my lizard long”

silence…

she was either thinking ‘it’s time 

he sleeps in another room’ or,

‘shit, I still got it’

Leonardo DaVinci was a prolific

engineer

inventor

painter of some of the

most famous masterpieces

of all time

a true testament 

to genius and dedication 

but most aren’t familiar 

with his lesser known twin brother

Leonard DaVinci

when asked about his achievements 

he was quoted by saying

“I just smoke Pall Malls,

drink Schlitz, and fuck bitches.

My brother is a lame. He’s always 

tinkering with some shit 

in the shed out back.”

Anthony Dirk Ray

(Originally published by Terror House Magazine)

Kyle was trying to finish up a job in his backyard shop, when he remembered the new saw blade that he bought from the box store was still inside the house.  He was anxious to try out this latest purchase.  The associate in the tool section sold him on the cutting performance of the blade with 80 teeth.  Kyle had always used a blade with 68 teeth, but decided to pay a little extra based on the steadfast recommendation. 

As he exited the shop and headed toward his back door, he heard a faint, high-pitched, chirping noise, coming from beside a large oak tree.  Kyle went to investigate the sound and noticed a tiny baby squirrel lying almost motionless at the base of the tree.  He knelt down beside the injured squirrel to get a better look at it.  Its eyes were closed, and it was taking very rapid, short breaths.  Kyle assumed that it must have fallen out of the tree.  He looked up, trying to spot a nest or the mother of the wounded squirrel, but saw nothing.  Kyle hated to see the hapless animal suffering, but wasn’t sure how he could help it.

The animal let out another pain-filled screech and barely opened its eyes.  Kyle looked into the eyes of the dying squirrel and knew that he had to do something.  He retrieved a cardboard box from his shop and placed it beside the squirrel to block the scorching sunlight.  Kyle went inside to get a bottle of water and his phone.  He poured a small amount of water onto the squirrel in an attempt to cool it off and make its suffering a little more bearable.  Then, he pulled out his phone and searched, what to do if you find a dying baby squirrel.  

A plethora of information appeared on the screen.  Kyle quickly scanned the top few results, and the overwhelming answer was to contact wildlife rescue and rehabilitation.  He then searched, wildlife rescue and rehabilitation near me.  The closest location was over 30 miles away, but he clicked the number to call.  The phone rang five times, then a recording started.  Thank you for calling Dawn Lakes Animal Rescue and Rehabilitation, we are currently closed.  If you would like to…

Kyle hung up the phone and knelt beside the squirrel once more.  A white foam-like substance was beginning to flow from its mouth, and the breathing appeared to be even more labored than before.  He knew he had to end the suffering of this poor animal, but the thought alone gave Kyle extreme anxiety.  He recalled a time, hunting with his grandfather, when he had a perfect shot on a deer, but just couldn’t pull the trigger.  His grandfather called him a worthless pansy, and later told Kyle’s father that he failed to raise a man.

Kyle went into his shop and looked around for something that would make it quick and painless.  After slight deliberation, Kyle decided on the flat shovel.  He made his way to the squirrel and looked down upon it.  He knew that this was the right thing to do, but it didn’t make it any easier.  His heart began to beat fast and his hands trembled.  He knew he had to get it right the first time, as to not prolong its agony.  Kyle gripped the handle of the shovel, raised it high over the squirrel, and brought it down with a forceful chop.  The shovel hit its mark, bisecting the animal in half, leaving a portion of the carcass in the ground with the square end of the tool.

A feeling of overwhelming malaise and sadness engulfed his being, and tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.  With the handle still clutched, Kyle snatched the shovel from the dirt, leaving two separate pieces of the squirrel’s body.  He scooped the pieces up and shoveled them into the box.  Kyle then took the box behind his shop, dug a hole, and buried the dead squirrel.  After the last of the dirt filled in the little grave, he stood over the mound and said a prayer.

Kyle really didn’t feel like finishing the work now, but thought that it might be a good way to take his mind off of the previous lamentable events.  He walked inside to get the new saw blade, still unnerved from the experience.  Back in his shop, he opened the package, affixed it to the saw, wiped the remaining tears from his eyes, and continued dismembering the blonde prostitute for disposal. 

As blood sprayed and flesh and bone were severed, Kyle thought to himself, that fella at the store was right. Those extra teeth do make a huge difference.

took a few days off from the

everyday drudgery and toil

Saturday night 

my wife and I stayed outside the city

hung with a buddy of roughly 25 years

it was nice to catch up

we are all getting old

a weathered and battered

version of what once was

…so is rotting

leaving the hotel to see him

my gun fell to the elevator floor

I literally shit a .38

I knew it was going to happen when

it dropped to my crotch area

I say, “sorry gentlemen, I’m a

concealed carry holder.”

I look to my wife

“I thought you clipped it to my belt.”

Luckily there were no kids

or ballpark moms in the 

elevator at that time

only a half-drunk ballpark

dad swaying, saying,

“I’m a permit holder, too.”

as well as a large

‘I know it all’ type personality

who barked, “I’m from Texas,

that shit don’t bother me.”

followed by their contrived talk

of firearms for the next 8 seconds

once in the car

we laughed like loonies 

later that night 

we had 2 spinach salads 

with no spinach

Sunday 

we attended Zydeco fest

we stood and sat in the sweltering 

humid heat under a cypress tree 

listening to French-Cajun music

her glistening and me dripping 

we walked to the creole tomato

festival in the French Market

a festival dedicated to a 

fruit disguised as a vegetable

heard rather blah versions

of both jazz and blues

we perused vendors from afar

peddling mostly mass-marketed wares

a literal cooking as the 

national heatwave intensifies

casually strolled past numerous

seemingly dead people on the street

we stop to admire a building 

with spectacular architecture 

as a man’s cocknballs hung out of

his gym shorts as he lie 

sleeping or dead in the entryway 

it turns out

it was the Supreme Court building 

Sunday night 

while waiting on a

food order to be ready

I had another drink I did not need

less than a block away from 

leaving the restaurant 

the bottom of the the bag gave way 

spilling red beans and

gumbo on the wretched sidewalk

drunk and pissed

a condoling onlooker ‘awed’ a

sad face as I salvaged what I could

you can’t cry over spilled gumbo

you can however

drunkenly curse and fume  

Monday 

we partook a guided tour

the only legal entrance 

to St. Louise #1

one of the oldest above ground

continually active cemeteries

dating back to the early 1800’s

dragging and smothering

triple digit heat index

sweating profusely 

agitated 

I didn’t take a photo of

Marie Laveau’s tomb

however 

there is rich history there

as well as the literal 

faint smell of death

during one stroll through the city

we noticed a large family of 5

bust into a sprint down the sidewalk

we thought it may have been the smell 

of urine or feces or possibly 

a dead addict on the sidewalk 

but they were only trying to catch 

the St. Charles streetcar

Tuesday night 

we attended a

show at Preservation hall

a quaint and intimate experience

jazz musicians putting in work

geniuses in action

as I begin this piece

12 stories in the sky

sirens scream and howl

someone somewhere 

is fighting to live

or fighting to die

.

(Originally published by Terror House Magazine)

Guy opened the door to Clyde’s, surveyed his surroundings, and took a stool at the bar.  Being a Tuesday night, only a smattering of patrons were present.  It was a fairly upscale establishment that would probably be packed with the office crowd in the evenings, and socialite types on the weekends.  The bartender casually made his way over to Guy. 

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll just start with a draft beer for now, thanks.”

The bartender returned with the beer and placed it in front of Guy.

“Would you like to start a tab? If not, it’ll be $4.50.”

Guy peeled off a ten dollar bill and slid it toward the bartender.

“Keep the change. Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Whatcha got?”

“I was wondering if you know anything about a fella by the name of Barry Jacobson.”

He obviously knew something about Barry by the perplexing look that he gave Guy.  The bartender appeared visibly shaken by the mention of this name.  He looked down and shook his head back and forth, before putting the money in the register and returning to face Guy.

“Obviously you haven’t heard. Hell, where do I start? Yeah, Barry came in here once or twice a week on average. That is until….”

The bartender reached for a pack of smokes, pulled one out, lit it, and continued. 

“…well, until the bloodbath happened. Barry was arrested for the murder of his wife. But it wasn’t just your typical ‘husband kills wife’ murder. No, it was much more gruesome than that. It was all over the local news. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. That poor woman was tortured, then basically gutted and dismembered. They said it looked like a scene straight from a horror movie.”

He asked the few patrons that were spaced out across the bar if they needed anything. Then he took a drink from a glass that was under the bar, a long draw off his cigarette, and turned back toward Guy.

“I couldn’t believe it personally. I mean, I wasn’t friends with Barry or anything, but he was a very personable guy. Not one that you would think could do some horrific shit like that. But that’s just it. He vehemently claimed his innocence, but the police and detectives found no forcible entry, no evidence of anyone else at the scene, and it definitely wasn’t a suicide. The investigators only found her blood on him and throughout the house and his bloody footprints. He said that it was from him finding her like that, and that he was passed out drunk during the killing. Personally, when I saw his interview on the news, he seemed believable, but there just isn’t another logical explanation. You ready sir?”

The bartender cashed out an older gentleman, thanked him for coming in, took another long pull from his cigarette and proceeded with the story.

“I mean, it was none of my business, but I did see him in here with different women from time to time. I never saw his wife with him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he would kill her. Although, all signs do point to him. You can’t argue with evidence, circumstantial or not. I would have never guessed that he was capable of such a thing, especially seeing his interview before they arrested him. He’s got some real good acting chops, aside from his story and all.”

“Story?” Guy asked, as he slid his empty glass away from him.

“Oh, goddamn! Yes, his story. That’s the best part. If this kind of shit could have a best part. Not only did he say that he was passed out drunk, and woke to find her like that, but he claimed that a ghost had to have killed her.  Do you believe that shit? Needless to say, the detectives didn’t put an APB out on Casper for the killings.”

The bartender started laughing, but quickly regained his composure.

“I’m sorry. Hell, I shouldn’t laugh. A beautiful young woman is dead, but holy shit, you’d think he would have thought that out a little more. You know what I’m saying?”

Guy nodded in agreement and said, “I know what you mean. So is he in jail now?”

“Jail? Hell no.They locked that crazy animal up at the Bellmore Institution. That’s worse than any maximum security prison that you could think of. That’s where they put the criminally insane. The absolute dregs of society are in that place. If you end up there, you aren’t getting out. There’s no parole or anything like that at the Bellmore. Rumor has it that they still do horrendous experimental treatments there. It’s basically legal torture. However, nobody really knows. No one has ever come out of there alive to tell about it. So, did you know Barry?”

“Yeah, Barry was my business partner a few years back and we became quite good friends. We started a software company together then sold it for a fairly hefty price. We were living the dream, smoking good cigars and drinking the finest whiskeys. They left us on as consultants and things couldn’t have been any better. That is, until I found out that Barry was having an ongoing affair with my wife.”

“Holy shit. That had to be a blow to you,” 

“You can say that again. I went absolutely crazy. I felt like my whole world crumbled, and I couldn’t trust anyone anymore.”

“Damn man. I’m sorry to hear that. I guess the news about Barry fooling around doesn’t come as a complete shock to you then. But hey, you’re doing a hell of a lot better than him now. You have that going for you.”

“Yeah, everything worked out the way it should’ve,” Guy said, with a slight grin.

“So did you divorce your wife after you found out?”

“No. I killed myself.”

Guy got up from his stool, walked out of the bar, and disappeared into the street.

(Originally published by The Beatnik Cowboy)

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)