Scott Thomas Outlar

by Horror Sleaze Trash on March 30, 2015


Scott Thomas Outlar survived both the fire and the flood – now he dances in celebration while waiting on the next round of chaos to commence. Otherwise, he lives a relatively simple life, flowing and fluxing with the Tao River, laughing at life’s existential problems, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His work has appeared recently in venues such as Section 8 Magazine, Medusa’s Kitchen, Dead Snakes, Dissident Voice, Daily Anarchist, Black Mirror Magazine, Record, and Underground Books. Scott can be reached at

Red Lips


Fire in the hole

Fire in your pussy

Fire from my cock

Fire from the sky

Fire of death

bringing the reaper

wet in flames

licking forests

torching souls

kissing poison

spitting the seed

of destruction

upon the land

upon the sea

River of fire

Hatred of fire

Apocalyptic fire

Fire of life

Fire of truth

Blankets of fire

covering all

caring less

canceling out

kissing off





I’m a dreg

I’m a low down

I’m a rotten

I’m the Beast

I’m the one

that you don’t invite over

I’m the Christmas feast

on the flesh of Christ

I’m the naughty guy

I’m the one

who says

just about anything

to get a rise

I’m the flag

raised high

I’m the cock

at half mast

I’m the drape

over the coffin

I’m the ash

in the urn

I’m the stem cells

that get aborted

I’m the flash point

I’m the heartache

I’m the big mistake

I’m the sordid business

I’m the joker card

I’m the compromise

I’m the devil’s lie

I’m the kiss of death

I’m the last one up,

alone, looking for temptation



Holes in the Hive



If your whole identity

is laced with layers

of victim mentality


you might want

to step away

before your soul

starts to smell

Drop your race

like a dead rat

Drop your gender

like castration

Drop your class

like shattered gold

Drop your opinions

like dirty assholes

Drop your nation

like used toilet paper

Drop your collective hive

like a class action lawsuit

Drop your faux outrage

like a trendy degree

Drop your ass

like it’s hot

Drop your sex

like a riot

Drop your truth

like a bomb

Drop your whole identity

and move along



‘Tis the Season



_____ called me recently

and asked if I’d write a jingle

for their forthcoming commercial.

Of course, whatever I sent would

have to pass by corporate, they said,

but assured me it should be no

problem at all.

I echoed the sentiments, hung up,

sat down, and got to work…

Fuck you.

Shove it up your ass.

Go jump off a bridge.

Go eat paint.

Your mother is a snow blower.

Your father is a shoe salesman.

I hope you die,

but contract cancer first

so it is slow and painful.

Your soul is poison.

Your job is shit.

Your marketing scheme

is the death of the world.

You should shoot yourself in the face.

No one loves you.

The grave is yawning.

You have no future.

You are lower than a rat.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

I haven’t heard

anything back yet.

J.J Campbell

by Horror Sleaze Trash on March 30, 2015

jj campbell bio
we have a situation here

the tingle
down your
finger on the
trigger and
fully ready
to change
all of our
tired of looking
for the potion
of perfection
they must have
written the fairy
tales for someone
other than you
blink twice if
you want to die
my mother used
to always joke
that it was a short
bus ride to crazy
for me
little did she know…
any final words
a note you’d like
to be passed on to
your loved ones
hushed cries and
fleeting moments
welcome to my
nothing to be worried about

so my right eye
is worse than
expected and
there is a spot
on my left eye
the doctor thinks
it’s nothing to be
worried about
unless it happens
to grow
but that won’t be
known until years
that got me to
thinking maybe
i’ll have to wear
an eye patch one
day like a fucking
or better yet, i lose
the eye completely
and replace it with
a marble or a magic
eight ball
and to think i have
a hard time talking
to women now
just imagine…
pink sweatpants

whenever i see
a woman in pink
sweatpants i
think back to a
winter morning
in the parking lot
of a local park
it was after working
the third shift at the
you pulled up next
to me and got in my
we started making
out and apparently
my fingers started
doing such a good
job you wanted
i pulled down my
jeans and you pulled
down your pink
you started to
ride me and then
whispered in my
ear about wanting
to stick your finger
up my ass
i suddenly finished
much quicker than
either of us were
you then asked what
i believed to be a
rhetorical question
did you just cum in me?
i was taught not to
answer rhetorical
questions so i said
you asked again, this
time in a tone that made
me think you might want
to cut something off
i said yes and since i was
21 at the time, i tried to
follow yes up with a line
about it being so damn
you pulled up those pink
sweatpants and slammed
my truck door, yelling
about this is the kind of
mistake that got you your
first kid
i really didn’t give a shit
about being thought of as
a mistake, i was thinking
about the greatest sex of
my life
all these years later, it
still ranks as the greatest
you called two weeks
later and told me
everything was fine
that is probably why i
can think of those pink
sweatpants and still smile
the sweeter the juice

sitting over in the corner
secretly dreaming about
my lips racing all over
your black skin
the young asshole in
me cracks a joke about
the darker the berry…
i cut him off
now is not the time
you catch me looking
and i once again fail
at playing it cool
you laugh but the tall
gentleman seated next
to you didn’t find it so
and i’ve had just enough
to drink that i’m silly
enough to think i can
take him
luckily, the beautiful
lady knew we were
both just full of shit
well beyond my years

i’ve never
taken a selfie
i’ve never
had a facebook
i’ve never
found it
to take a
picture of
my food
my ego
doesn’t believe
the world needs
to know when
i’m taking a
shit or when
i’m trying to
decide what to
get at the home
they told me
as a child i was
well beyond my
i suppose that is
still true
although i’m quite
interested in seeing
what this tinder is
all about


Garret Schuelke

March 27, 2015

Garret Schuelke is a writer and blogger residing in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He has self-published two poetry ebooks, and has had his work featured in A Thousand and One Stories, Dead Snakes, Dogzplot, and Millenial Garbage. He can be reached at — Jason Todd I reached for my pack of cigs after I started […]

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March 27, 2015

KIM FOWLEY, DEAD, on the cover of Girls and Corpses Magazine   Preview our Spring issue of Girls and Corpses here: Order issues here: It was Kim Fowley’s ‘dying wish’ to have his cadaver on the cover of Girls and Corpses Magazine… and who are we to deny someone their final wish? Kim Fowley […]

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Urban Autopsy []

March 26, 2015

“I got into photography when I was in high school, we had a shitty ass media department with a really small dark room and limited supplies to develop. When my teacher quit her job, she told me to have at it and develop as many photos as I could manage in a double period on […]

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Deirdre Lean.

March 24, 2015

— “Let the storm pass and see where the sun shines” Fire. Flame engulfed me I would have died if not for the amount of alcohol I’d consumed. Bright lights from the hospital blind me. I get up and fish around my melted handbag. Find a cigarette and walk towards the doors. Dragging a drip […]

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