All The Feral Dogs of Los Angeles

by Horror Sleaze Trash on February 15, 2017

Benjamin Blake

Benjamin Blake was born in the July of 1985, and grew up in the small town of Eltham, New Zealand. Blake spent time in Southern California several years back, and fell in love with Los Angeles whilst he bummed around, drank, and smoked too many packs of Camel Lights. After spending a night camping out beneath the 101 with a fellow hobo, he went and stayed at LAX for five days, where he lived like a king before flying back to New Zealand. He has had poetry and prose published all over the world in various magazines and journals, and is also the author of the poetry/prose collections, A Prayer for Late October, Southpaw Nights, Reciting Shakespeare with the Dead, and the novel, The Devil’s Children. He plans to make it back to L.A. as soon as he can. For the meantime, he will continue to share his bed with a schnauzerXpoodle named Danny.


Cole Bauer

Cole Bauer was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, America in 1983. He moved to San Diego, California in 1990 and was raised there until becoming an adult. He has also spent a few years in Houston, Texas with travel all over the United States. He’s worked many jobs and has known many people. Combine all that inspirational history with an urge to create and you have a library of screenplays, short stories, and also, right here, poetry. From self-publishing to contests to submitting to publishers and studios, Cole Bauer brings a wide range of material with him as he tries to keep the creative juices flowing towards an audience who can relate. That group of Bukowski and Fante readers that need to make it through, like he did with the greats. He currently lives in Los Angeles in the golden state with his wife, Mia, and dog, Rupert.



All The Feral Dogs of Los Angeles

From Benjamin Blake (Southpaw Nights) and Cole Bauer, comes the new split poetry collection All The Feral Dogs of Los Angeles. Poems full of life, death, dust, lust and liquor, All The Feral Dogs of Los Angeles reads like a drunken love-letter to the City of  Fallen Angels. 




Benjamin Blake 



Lights & Sirens


Roadside surgery

Performed in back rooms of low-lit bars       

I came so close to bleeding out

That I made my peace with God

Then renounced His very name

Some things are just not worth it


Patched up and back behind the wheel

A quart of brandy my old-time remedy

For the shivers and shakes

That set in with alarming regularity

These old bones won’t rattle forever


I closed my eyes as I drove through her town

I couldn’t bear to take it in



As Seldom Before


I wish I still had

The photograph I took

Of you sprawled back on your makeshift mattress

Inebriated and shirtless

The one that you made me get rid of

I’ve forgotten what it feels like

To share a bed

With someone the opposite sex

And same species





Cole Bauer



Shadows of palm trees 


Tv show and movies

They only show you the palm trees

With rooftops of homes

And skyscrapers up in the air

With the ocean in the furthest distance

Perfect paradise


The reality of this heaven

Is below in the shadows of beauty

The dirt, shit, piss, puke

Cops making arrests

Hookers and homeless and thieves

Pushers and drugs

Booze and sex

Murder and betrayal


Both views of this golden state

Have their qualities and character

It’s just sad that so many

Don’t know the truth

And can’t appreciate it

Like us locals



Wilmington kittens



And high

Beyond belief


I stood in the kitchen

Smoking and falling asleep standing up

And then it happened


I heard the world’s loudest

And most street

Cat fight

From outside that window





All long and drawn out

And then it ended

No winner declared


Hope none were hurt or killed


The sound of hood never sounded so sweet


To that

Badass pussy





Previous post:

Next post: