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Showing posts with the label Bruce Pandolfo

"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...

"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...

"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!

"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...

"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...

"I'm About To Save Your Life" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) day 5

“ I'm About To Save Your Life” (Criminal Episode11) Written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/5/2017  Call him "Rob”, what he was not who he is, for his honor. Engineer, in his mid-fourties in the late seventies. Mild mannered, short, he looked maybe seventeen. Tried avoiding traffic detouring through several streets. There are no short cuts, Robert. The roads wound labyrinthine through Compton, He knew the reputation that the area had in fact, The lost drive almost drove him to a panic attack Upset and distracted, he accidentally scratched a Cadillac There is no free lunch. Someone conned him. Boys ran towards him, one yanked open his door grabbed the wheel, pushed Rob's weight aside looked him in his eyes “ I'm about to save your life” What he didn't mention is “you're gonna pay the price” It should have been a hint that Leone's name was Moore Leone parked and said the scraped 'lac was his families', info wa...

"Jolly Jane" (National Poetry Month Poem-A-Day) Day 4

“Jolly Jane” (Criminal Episode 38) written by Bruce A. Pandolfo 4/4/17 Taunton Lunatic Asylum for psychotic patients, Toppan, “Jolly” Jane, do not mistake her awful plain commonplace innocuous, aged image for soft and safe, She's got insane deadly habits, devil's advocate, God she played arrived here after she offed the Davis' at their Cape Cod estate She's admittedly authored the death of more than thirty by inoculation Boston training at Cambridge aimed at a nursing education, her opiate experimentation lead to disqualification she left the eve of her graduation never received certification I'll review my scattered statements to ascertain what the case is ... The horror born Honora Kelley to an alcoholic father “Kelley The Crack” pot, wack-job, I had jotted “may be the fodder”, A tailor, the tale goes tried to sew his eyelids closed, lost it, lost mother to the illness she's fraught with though she fought it with no...