A setting sun brings the Inquisition My Torquemada twilight Apathetic Knights ride on butchered horses Armed with silver swords and bloody crosses Ridding the playgrounds and municipal buildings of punk ass bitches and psychedelic witches Demonologists from the Department of Health Announced an edict to bathe in Holy Water And read The Bible on public... Continue Reading →
Mondays are Dull Requiems
Monday mornings are bleak poems Words of despair Rhymes regarding the tragedy of responsibility Soul crushing prose packs a black belt’s kick Each stanza a death march into the concrete jungle Cluttered basement office in an Art Deco skyscraper Gleaming steel and gargoyles made of stone Bored by my misery like an apathetic Feudal lord... Continue Reading →
Dark Night at the Jericho Abbey
The Plague never infected my body It killed my job in a New York minute 80K per annum fire flushed in a crematorium oven A boozy butcher mixing slaughterhouse soup I had to bring home that bacon I’m now a night clerk at some janky ass motel One filled with cadavers that told no tales... Continue Reading →
LUNA
Luna haunts me like a dead dog's eyes Memories of her surround and swarm me like hornets Stingers that spit poison pummel me senseless like fat cops armed with billy clubs and bad thoughts On a five year vacation in a sleazy Boiler City Prison for conjuring demons at The Cape Horn Furnace Company Corporate... Continue Reading →
serial pulp fiction:The Rockford Files Years chapter 2
This is Chapter 2 of my serialized pulp fiction story. I'm a bit hungover on this pass through. I apologize for nothing. Chapter 1 is here . This episode was brought to you by the nefarious curator of The Pulp Fiction Bookstore. Chapter 2 Dragon in the Guilt Sewer As I stood with a convict's... Continue Reading →
serial pulp fiction: THE ROCKFORD FILES YEARS
Drunk typist note: I'm going to attempt a pulp fiction story that mixes my Irish Catholic Drunkard's Guilt with a horror and crime story you might purchase at The Pulp Fiction Bookstore. None of these chapters will have more than two drafts so I hope you don't mind it not being too polished. This story... Continue Reading →
RUSSIAN ROULETTE by Georges Surdez : This is a short story. Gunshot quick.
Russian Roulette is an extremely short story by pulp writer Georges Surdez. The tale is as brief as the muzzle flash from a revolver. One could probably finish reading it by the time a bullet is done bouncing around the insides of a man's skull, shredding the brain into oatmeal, after it enters through their temple. Russian... Continue Reading →
A Secret Communique From Mr. Pulp
I am obsessed with Tierra del Fuego. I also love maps and globes. I remember in grade school looking over at the standard public school issue globe on the bookshelves and noticing the southern tip of South America. It was a world away from my home on Long Island. I envisioned what it must be... Continue Reading →
ANGER AT THE END OF THE WORLD 