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Showing posts from April, 2017

"The Editor" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 30

“ The Editor” Criminal episode49 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/30/2017 In Maryland, Robin Woods was no Robin Hood robbing goods prolifically from warehouses or whatever whereabouts, but how else are you to make a living with no catered education, given the ruler at school your future is dimming a decade later, breaking and entering villain thieving phones and computer equipment.. stole a car, and 20k worth of gear, he's 26 tops, next night he's playing pool in comes 6 cops, a friend turned rat went behind his turned back, Robin doesn't blame the guy, its every man for himself, which often means its every man v.s. Everyone else. Non-violent felony, but had prior convictions too, given 16 years at Maryland Correctional Institute, Absolutely overkill, perhaps Draconian, certainly the worst place they'd ever thrown him in. Guards beat the inmates with nearly no provoking, so the next night, revenge was reaped in a riot&

"Gil From London" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 29

“ Gil From London” Criminal Episode20 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/30/2017 Karen, I know you're dreaming as I type this, Funny, you're a dream yourself, you really are terrific these last three weeks have been exquisite and exciting Honey, I've been dreaming too of detours while on business... I'm alighting right now, (to India, I'm flying) Distracted, second guessing getting a second ticket, Since my child and wife passed, I've also felt lifeless Disagreeably you're grieving, but our symmetry so assisted Unprecedented since the loss, I've found myself smiling, You're the cause of course, could I repay with paying a visit? In just a few days I could be in Los Angeles, You've uniquely understood the pain's heaviness your tenderness and empathy's innate readiness, have healed my heart aches and strangely steadied it and yet you've jump-started its invigorated pace Sorry we can't easi

"The Agreement" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 28

“ The Agreement” Criminal Episode30 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/28/2017 Danny's mother prays every day. She prays daily that she will stay healthy. Danny's mother takes care of herself. She hopes Danny will have a great big family party when he turns 50. Danny talks to his mother on the phone every day. Between phone calls and prayers, Danny's mother speaks with Danny and God equally often about the same things. Mothers are the great creators and they worship their sons. Despite this, if you meet Danny's mother, she will not tell you about him. She does this to protect herself. “ I love you baby” she says to her son with an hint of exhausted desperation. “ I lo--- THIS CALL IS FROM A FEDERAL PRISON ” That familiar automated response interrupts Danny with its rigid robotic reminder. and 15 minutes into their conversation, the phone clicks off. Danny can't use the phone for another hour. But after

"Pappy" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 27

“ Pappy” Criminal Episode 40 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/27/2017 You want to get yer hands on a bottle o' Pappy huh? More of a statement really i'n't it? You WANT to get yer hands on a bottle o' Pappy. Your lips mor'n likely too. Ouch'er mind if ya don't! Pappy the best bourbon money can buy. And hell, money can't even buy it most times. Like a myth or a legend, that stuff. Comes around only e'ry so offen like a comet or surprise sex in your married life pardon me for sayin' so... More than common firewater.. Put hair on your chest and a fire in it. Ain't no question. Cure yer ailments, keep ya warm, put ya to sleep, douse your problems... 'tho' shit, these days, Bottle o' Pappy? Clean out your bank just as much as your woes (if you got em.) And if you're on a huntin' f'Pappy, lemme tell you...you're in for some heartache pal. I tell ya.. Hard

"Tiger" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 26

“ Tiger” Criminal Episode 46 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/26/2017 Come see Tony the Tiger! Yes, son just like the one on the cereal box... Now imagine that 550 pounds! Incredible isn't he? Tigers are fierce predators, Don't get too close ma'am, he may spray you! How old is he? 16! Yes pretty Miss, 16 Years he's lived in this here Louisiana gas station. Putting the ”pet” in “petrol”. Go and get your “ animal rights activists taste like chicken” T-shirts when you're through pumping your gas. Haha! Oh don't cry lil lady! Oh he's happy as can be. He gets the best food money can buy and doe'n't even work for it like he was built to. Oh no son, he's happy here with his poppa Mike. Ignorance is bliss. Wild ain't he?

"Ex Libris" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 25

“ Ex Libris” Criminal episode 22 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/25/2017 The Book Thief felt like The Master Of The World , he was The Man WhoLoved Books Too Much . This Outsider / Outlier was a Mysterious Stranger who could disappear like David Copperfield , like an Invisible Man in Invisible Cities with a Heart OfDarkness . “ Finders Keepers” seemed to be his Anthem . The social Sphere of book collectors and dealers' patience wore Thinner , they were sick of being Prey and decided it couldn't Carrie on. So, like SherlockHolmes , they set about to solve It . Through emails, teamwork and Persuasion they caught Gilke, something of a   Kite Runner , fishy work kiting checks, they found many of The Beautiful andDamned books he Kidnapped at his Bleak House on Treasure Island . But this Jailbird experienced no Metamorphosis from his Crime andPunishment when he was briefly Walden . It turns out he's a dishonorable co

"Angie" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 24

“ Angie” Criminal Episode26 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/24/2017 Adam went to Philly to play soccer as a pro, on off-time he'd wander, by overpasses he'd roam Oft times he'd chat with folks who hadn't had a home He'd make sandwiches he'd dole out to those he'd get to know Met a guy Red Colt, professorial, eloquent, shopping cart of bags, silver tongue of etiquette Red Colt's girl Angie started up with the expletives then to Adam's shock, Red Colt up and defended him! Adam frequented the benches and the bridges, He'd come to love Red Colt and his ornery missus, He wished he could help the folks others dismissed then in March both the vagrants vacated...went missing! Around July 4 th , Homicide Detective Mangold Discovers a body by the river horrifically mangled Someone dismantled it to pieces and bagged those, Hung them from branches an immobile-mobile dangled. The swamped department couldn

"Pen & Paper" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 23

“ Pen and Paper” Criminal Episode 35 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/23/2017 Andy Austin was a regular in court for over four decades. She harassed a judge until she could get in there. Hardly left since. She's routinely looked mobsters and murderers right in the eye unflinching. She's traded smiles casually with John Wayne Gayce. Unafraid. She once drew on a woman and made her look real bad simply because the lady wouldn't give an inch for Andy to sit. Like most people,  Andy doesn't enjoy being present  for murder trials  (because they're boring.) Not enough passion, she says. She's framed dozens of killers, cleptos, and convicts. Her walls are adorned with pictures of folks who would make you shudder. Bit of a sketchy character really. But then...that's her job, Chicago Courtroom sketch artist. 

"Finding Sarah and Phillip" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 22

“ Finding Sarah and Phillip” Criminal Episode 60 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/23/2017 Sarah and Phillip went for an extended visit with Dad for Fourth of July. The fireworks weren't all celebratory. Dad shot off two himself. Sarah and Phillip's stay was permanent. They had new rooms, roadside. Fair amount of acreage. A tree, a pile of wood some loose concrete like incidental headstones. He couldn't recall what he'd done. Couldn't recall where he'd done it. Where he buried he and Terri's babies, two babes with bullet holes where sweet faces used to be. He scribbled the police a crude map, (painfully reminiscent of a child's drawing.) Careless, crude cartographer of rustic crypts. He sent himself off on an extended visit of his own before he could be of much help. In someways he had done enough. In others he hadn't. Terry pleaded with the police, pleaded and pleaded. But not a one could fin

"It Looked Like Fire" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 21

“ It Looked Like Fire” Criminal Episode32 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/21/2017 Ed respectfully attended the Ferguson protest out of curiosity Appropriate... everyone was outraged over “what killed the cat” Things were getting curioser and curioser. He was immediately enveloped in the waves of sadness. Drowned in the undertow of the overtones of anger, pain, mourning at the injustice. He'd experienced nothing like it and wished he hadn't had to. More cops showed up. Robotic riot gear, clockwork synchronization. Almost inhuman in their actions. But that's why we were protesting wasn't it? Inhumanity in cops' actions “ Go home” the riot police chanted. “ This IS our home!" the protesters reminded them. Then as if forgetting that this demonstration was responsible for enough tears shed. The police start tossing their smoke-billowing alligator-tear-gas canisters unforgiving and unforgivable into the crowd...

"Final Exit" (National Poetry Month Poem-A-Day) Day 20

“ Final Exit” Criminal Episode17 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/20/2017 Are your beloved keepsakes blurring? Is memory an old friend whose name eludes you, bungee jumping from a broken neural pathway unwritten, unrecognized, unspoken from your drying tongue? Are the integral characters of your past censored like a yearbook whose faces are perforated with wavering, obscuring uncertainty emphasizing the “no”and “lost” in “nostalgia”? Is agony colonizing your withering frame, crippling you coldly, rattling your hollowing bones, gnarling your spine into a question mark as if to punctuate “why are we still here?” ? Is your pain rendering you bedridden and then festering maliciously in your bedsores? Are you in an unthinkable state of thoughtlessness? Is your dignity digging a ditch to decrepitude with your will-to-live becoming a will-not-live? Is your self worth attenuating as you balance precariously on the tight rope of y

"American Dream" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 19

“ American Dream” Criminal episode33 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/19/2017 Even in his teen years Clay felt thieving could be fun. Bonnie//Clyde, John Dillinger, perhaps he could be one, Mentioned to friends and family he's sure it could be done, Mom became a victim of her would-be vigilante son, No Robin Hood just a hooded robber, Clay researched hard in a search bar to avoid gumshoes like cobblers and an agenda to give parents agita A well paid turbine mechanic, uncanny that he'd catch this bug to be a pest and hopefully not candidly caught on camera. When he stole from Mom she noticed him, but Moms know their sons and scolded him, no mask, no gun, no showboating, Non-violent, he'd take notes with him, walked in nonchalant wrote on envelopes he'd give in hopes to keep tellers at ease “ only hundreds and fifties please” Walking out exhilarated, The American Dream for the adrenaline fiend! Made a couple grand a

"Dear Sheila" (National Poetry Writing Month poem-a-day) Day 18

“ Dear Sheila” Criminal Episode10 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/18/2017 Dear Kevin, So kind of you to write to me 'round Christmas, You're a darling of a man, see it's lonely here in prison. I'm hot-headed, I admit it, if I'm at my wit's end Get me a wick and my fiery intentions can be wicked. I've got thick skin...I'd show it to you when you visit. When the cops came around, they all wanted to bare witness. I really don't belong here Kev, I've been longing to hear from you again. I'm warming up to you, it's nice to have a friend. I promise I'd never treat you like Michael and Ken. He was sweet, but frustrating, he was an idiot, not like you sweetheart, my! Your writing is so brilliant! See..Ken was a bumbling burden, the bottom of the barrel, I wrote you a poem enclosed in this note, suppose it is a carol. I'll be out before long, I'm strong, I'm resilient, Sooner or later they

"One Eyed Joe" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 17

“One Eyed Joe” Criminal Episode 44 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/17/2017 Mid 1800's, John Frankford from Lancaster, When it comes to equine crimes, John was a grand master, Once had words with a warden, awarding, adulating himself: “I stole all the missing horses in the state” he stated The Pennsylvanian famous for another reputation, indicted 25 times, but was too great at escaping, feasibly the region's Houdini, imprisonment was a joke, Escape routes easy, routinely he did it alone, But the Buzzard Boys once busted him out with other folks The brother's bird-cage trick unchained this jailbird who'd flown. The county jail finally fed up with Frankford's freedom, Forged a tough cell for him, opining “that'd surely keep him,” A tough sell for him, John cut open the bars to leave it headed to the stuffy cellar, dug through the wall's concrete then- He Claus-crawled up the jail's chimney seemingly sweeping,

"Dropping Like Flies" (National Poetry Month Poem-a-Day) Day 16

“ Dropping Like Flies” Criminal Episode5 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/16/2017 Hey man, I got a job I could use you for, lil breakin' 'n' ennering, a “heist” if yer feelin' romantic, think yer might want to consider it... Yeah, like a real big opportunity. Definitely illegal, but we stand to make at least a couple grand. Yeah, thousands! Bring some bags, wear a mask. It's kinder shady, people will likely come after us. I don't see why... They makin' medicine out it now. Plants! Yeah plants. They say it cures cancer, have you heard that too? Mhmm. Controversial stuff. What? Weed? No you idiot, Venus Fly Traps!

"Triassic Park" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 15

“ Triassic Park” Criminal episode  23 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/15/2017 Dear superintendent, I hope this package reaches you I know this may seem crazy but it's something that I need to do My wife and I eyed the signs “don't take pieces of the trees with you” Saw others' superstitious letter rolled my eyes “how unbelievable” Years ago, my wife and I toured the Triassic Park We were only courting then, it was a unique chance to bond Scientists, we hiked a bit, chatted, charmed, cast a spark pocketed “petrified wood” grabbed the rocks, I had her heart I crafted a ring from the stones to show our timeless bond proposed shortly afterwards, teary smile and nod, tied the knot It's vile and odd, ten years we're vexed fearing it mightn't stop, doesn't sound like science talk, I send this hoping that I'm absolved! The flight we got for our honeymoon crashed but we survived, Lucky to be alive, but next? we conceive