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"Deep Dive" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) day 14

“ Deep Dive” Criminal episode33 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/14/2017 One early summer morning on America's West Coast, a hazmat-garbed La Brea Dave finds himself Wading through the inky prehistoric adhesive of Los Angeles' tar pits, Dave' submerges his face into the hot, viscous shadow-mucous. He's done nothing like this in his entire lifetime of professional or recreational submersing adventuring, but no robot could do this job. As the Officer in charge, how could he command a family man to do something unanimously advised as impossible?! Dave is the rare type who calls death-defying engagements “kind of troubling” So he volunteers,  fondly thinking of Leslie and their grown children, and then he is suited up soon to be clumsily groping for discarded evidence  like an insect suspended in amber. What kind of message would opting out of the unlikely mission send to ambitious villains if they thought there were timeless im...

"Break The Internet" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 13

“ Break The Internet” Criminal Episode 12 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/13/2017 Give him thirty minutes and he'll know your whole story. He'll need a computer, of course. It all started with those ubiquitous AOL CD's in the 90s. He just wanted free internet. Figured that out pretty quickly, Dastardly digital cunning. Started downloading free music and movies. Couldn't wait in line online. So he did what anyone would do... you know, got in touch with the hackers, hacked away at their prejudices then hacked away for their tests. Ended up befriending this troupe of Russian rascals while hacking into University servers, Slept through school classes as he stayed up learning, sure not to alert or lure anyone to his private piracy. Now we're talking year 2000, He goes by MafiaBoy. It's comforting to know the professional pirates of the pixel planes aren't exempt from embarrassing internet handles. ...

"Animal Instincts" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 12

Animal Instincts Criminal episode1 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/12/2017 Mike finds his wife lying at their staircase base face down unconscious in a bad state, sprayed crimson, bloody and bludgeoned it's too fucked Marooned as an island in a pool of maroon blood like the pool they spent the night 'round 'neath the moon drunk Mike phones in a frenzy, a freaky familiar interlude He can't get his head straight when the operator interviews Very similar to another time, not time for verisimilitude Figure's she stepping like the sentences he's tripping through gritty it wasn't pretty, sirens blaring, sight dimming Crying trying to clean her up, his dizzy head swimming, Kathleen's doing the dead woman's float, it gets fishy, wishy-washy wish she wasn't a bloody puddled pummeled pity But see in the 80's somehow Mike found a lady in the same way, spotted at the bottom of the stairs, reaper food with...

"Mother's Little Helper" (National Poetry Month Poem-A-Day) Day 11

“ Mother's Little Helper” Criminal Episode 19 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/11/2017 Aye, you see that lady over there runnin' things? Yeah yeah, the cute lil grandma lady. Listen, you ain't gonna get one over on her, that's Ol' Sandy Alger. That badass broad's been 'round the block. She can't be shocked. I know, I know. She's 71. But that's what I'm sayin' She's ran every version of the games you're playin' long before you or your parent's were born. She's been clean longer than you and me been livin' and before that she was a junkie just as long. I know, I know. Word is her bedridden mom had nervous breakdowns so bad she needed two medicine cabinets! Imagine that jackpot? Nah don't think about it. Don't. But shit that's where it all started, Sandy's Mom preemptively prescribed some of those captivating capsules...Just a teensy bit to her te...

"Open Case" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 10

“ Open Case” Criminal Podcast Episode 41 Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/10/2017 Fred and Edwina hated one another with a passion, so much so that they had separate fridges for their rations Houston Honey- full-mooners howlin' as if walls were padded Their son Charles, would have wished for that insulating facet (to dull the decibels for the decades' abrasive insulting language) Hermit permitted mail through the door, used a broom for tapping, At 43, the geophysicist avoided interaction, But finally Charles was through with the abusive brutal madness, Not to mention finding out, mom had her hand in his cash, He plotted and prepared and he meticulously planned On fathers day in '65, after 5 years tacit absence, He called mother to his room and shot her then he grabbed this handyman's hammer, to celebrate with Dad he dragged him scrambling out his bed, smashed him and he smashed them dropped the claw hammer then he slashed and h...

"Don't Let Me See You In The Whirl" (national poetry month poem-a-day) Day 9

“ Don't Let Me See You In The Whirl” Criminal Episode 56 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/9/2017 “There is power in naming and power in shaming!” The Evening Whirl's weekly warning headline historically heralded!! The print pressed proudly and pugnaciously to punish the pungent by the jumpin' journalist of justice (Saint Louis' scribblin' Sanders) since he's 8 he's assisted sprawling out the scrolls, now he's 68 lays out photos to lay out felons, rapists and robbers who romp while applauding the courageous cops that drop, stop and stomp our neighborhoods' nasty ne'er-do-wells and dirty dastardly derelicts!! Horray for our H-men, can I get an amen? Aimin' to celebrate them; Ol' “Knuckles” Johnson, Strong “Stone Hard” persistent “Pac-Man”. The Whirl born of Ben Thompson, who passed along its long past The riotous righteous rag that puts the blasted baddies on blast! St. Louis boasts the mo...

"Call Your Mom" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 8

“Call Your Mom” Criminal Episode 4 written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/8/2017 Among the idle chatter the officers had to stifle laughter despite the graphic aftermath at the crime scene when Casey said “I'll try to reach my Mom” at 3 O'clock, she's on the homicide team. Alright see, this isn't your ordinary morbid fairy tale a story carrying a portrait pairing well with an altered rearing skill absorbing love in a horrid scary world where the corpses can be held among hair-raising awful hellishness then when the day is done with just act normal, head home hug infants cuddle and kiss your husband tiptoeing a befuddling balance of the love of your bloodline and comfortably shrugging off puddling lines of blood that your day is covered in sometimes. Etched in a family tree, name signed in mortal coil cursive twisting like a double helix, genes twist tales from toiling Vernons Bill and Linda spend a lifetime near li...