Best Pulp Fiction Poems

Here, I dwell in no man's land,
On the flip side, there's men unwomanned,
They can be a miserable band,
Desperately seeking a hand,
I read their profiles for...

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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...

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The inhuman toadie, that does not have your voice? 
You want me to call you, I have made a choice.
To listen to Mr. Techno Man,...

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an in-sight drove me
here where the entry code 'eye'
opened a word lock

so timely fashion
is responsible for words
on 'invisibles'

our subconscious 'scans'
it is just information
our library

and we...

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Dreams and Reality

I met her in the Book-Fair, three days the fair lasted
And she was spotted on all days, browsing and buying my books
Eyeing me...

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with red eyes blazing

they race through fog on hot sands

in a dying land . . . 

Barsoom’s white apes transplanted

to an earth where hell broke...

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Surely, Sherlock was rooted in the home.
But his ruby slippers
Had worn-out souls
So the jaded detective
Followed Fitzgerald and the lost generation.
But somewhere in between chapters
And the...

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Hands Caught In The Till

The cash register, there is a pleasant  little "TING !" as it slides open....
More often than not, it will reveal...

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THE browning Version
ET> Unstrung heros Premonition
Enemy of the State
Good will hunting
Mystery, Alaska The family man
Galaxy Quest Hook ghost busters
CARNAL KNOWLEDGE
5 easy pieces Last American Hero
WITNESS
High...

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Vinyl (3/1/19)

“Wow, everybody just cleared out.
“That’s what happens when you leave a
“Bookstore with vinyl.”

I haven’t a clue what she meant
And to be perfectly honest, I’m...

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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...

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Something in this autumn air
I like to call oblivion chill
beats my heart
into pulp fiction,

clasped inside my diction,

who can hear the heart
crying for its lost will
inside...

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A termite’s a guy who just loves the woods
It gnaws him because he’s just not understood
His nightmares, a version of Sentricon hell
You love oak and...

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Doesn't everyone at some point 
deal with addiction?
While for some symptoms are mild, 
others are like pulp fiction. 
It's deemed a disease and this I...

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Quote: I don't want a perfect life I want a happy life 

Children tumbling out of bed 
coffee dripping from my old faded percolator 
Stockings...

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