Best Pulp Poems

Pretty soon, night will fall upon the city,
And lives of crime animate spasmodically
As Gene Pitney croons “A Town Without Pity”
And the clubs and the gin joints open methodically.

Hepcat jazzmen smoke reefers, shoot junk,
The pimps clean their nails with switchblades laconically,
Fedoras pulled low as they mind-jive...

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We all need sun, O white pulp
Pineapple and soft light, mango
Me first, then the policeman, then Solène,
We need a long Brazilian nap,
in Bahia or on the fine sand of Copacabana.

The tanned skins are full of secrets,
Vitamins, pulp and sunsets 
The tanned skins know our defects,
The...

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are you a robot? does your mouth flap
open and closed, but
 you are somewhere completely different
guts
i feel a stir when Im present
vodka flavored kindred
harsh like my wake up
injured ego still mint
i profess prone particularly
to the idea of kinship
yet
i must break away from the school,
regrets are...

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Pumpkin Pulp a hunger real.
Toothless meal a vomit fill.
Rumpy flesh to hold the meal.
Tasty strands of flavour seal.

Pits of seeds for spitting out.
White tidbits all hard and stout.
Strands of web to reach the heart.
Spirits strong where pressures part.

Fetch the scoop to scoop out goop.
Scrape the...

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I've had enough of the usless drivel, hypersenitivity and endless snivels
We're more fulfilled I hear so often, yet the fruit on show to me seems rotten!
A girl of 9 cut down by a gun, floods of drugs; engineered and spun..'
Borderless war, we're doing well.' No...

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I like my orange juice with pulp
So every time I take a gulp
I swallow strands of fruity flesh,
Pretending that it’s just-squeezed fresh.

When all that pulp is strained away,
It loses some of its cachet.
What Nature’s chosen to produce,
In fruit, should show up in its juice!...

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fresh pulp of orange
score slice peel from bitter rind
— eyes and nose sweet sip

3/12/2018...

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a pulp paradox

one million matchsticks
from one tree and one matchstick
burns one million trees

2019 August 19

*3rd Place*

Tree Themed Haiku
~~Tania Kitchin...

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It comes wrapped up in clear mylar,
like the ones comic people use,
insides faded, creased and yellow,
big red letters boast of the west,
small rips and tears from ancient hands,
and the collectors before me,
does not detract from the image:
Cowboys in bold, pulsing colors,
pistols blazing, horses rearing,
sweet girl...

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IV.

As the werewolves all funneled to that narrow gorge,
the brush was pulled away, revealing a cannon’s bore,
the beasts were to furious to see they were caught,
Bob pulled back on the cord, fired silver grape-shot.

Small spheres of silver shot out like a big shot-gun,
carpeting the eight...

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Pulp fiction had nothing on him. He was a man’s man. A protagonist
of his own making, self-reliant, and self-assured.  Marlow kept his wisecracks
to the bare minimum when meeting a new client.  Dames were not as compliant as they used to be, and they...

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I.
Bob Harney was riding upon the evening stage,
worried they’d not reach Pelltown before light did fade,
he hoped they didn’t have to spend the night camping out,
they’d heard the Arapahos were raiding around.

The others in the stage gazed out on the sunset
over Colorado mountains, it stole...

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II.

When drinking one noontime broken Bob got a glance
at one of Rick’s men, a thug named Dorado Vance,
but what caught his attention was the bastard’s hat,
in the stage he had seen the miner wearing that!

Stumbling from the bar, a quick path did he beat,
could it...

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III.

He wore a necklace made of dozens of vertebrae,
whether they were human or not, nobody could say.
Rick looked down at the dead man but still showed no fear,
said,”Tell me why we shouldn’t just kill you right here?”

Several thugs stalked forward, Sol shifted his aim,
said,”They may...

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Here I am at the crossroads 
Staring blankly at the inky dark sky

Beaten to a pulp and helpless 
By forces of darkness 

Here I am lying in the pool of my emotions 
Clutching at every straw
To maintain sanity and stability

Here I am a victim of...

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