Americana art happiness history life literature religion theism Urban Legends writing

traveling salesman

commit these words

to memory

when the devil comes for you

and believe me

he will come for you

he will not be cloven hoofed

horned scaly

red fleshed fork tongued

with a pointed tail

he will appear on a sunny morning

as the answer

to your prayers

speaking words

you’ve been waiting to hear

all your life

with a loving manner about him


in his manicured hands

a perfectly packed picnic basket

a bottle of wine

a box of jewels

and two plane tickets

to Antigua

Lent poetry religion


for a friend in need

on forgiveness sunday


excuse the deeds

but never forget

a devil hanging crooked paintings

in the details


serving a gathering

at the supper table

cyanide bread



dripped quietly

into the wine vessel


Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

you should have jumped

it was lying in wait
behind the locked bottom drawer
in my antique roll top desk

how many years it has hidden i’m unsure
waiting for a thorough spring cleaning

al green was behind me singing
let’s stay together
during the scene

a picture of us
standing on a yellow bridge
in pittsburgh

white panama wearing
green eyes staring
straight into the camera content
showing no teeth
never the teeth
it would reveal too much

me leaning into you
head beneath your chin
my delicate chiffon
safely held in your arms
gazing into blue river waters
that had not yet forgotten the sea

as though you were my savior

and i
your long suffering mary magdalene

so trusting

bad pimp and unwilling prostitute

the only thing you have in common with god
is that you aren’t real

i held that fucking picture in my hand
saying aloud to my photographed self

you should have jumped

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

together in the mess

what are we guilty of, my friend?

of wanting someone to live our lives with
in exquisite happiness

yet during the quest
we fell prey
to a cunning devil with two heads

false god
who idolizes cult leaders
and genocide-eyed maniacs
loving everything to its
well choreographed death

such a fine male specimen
puffed up chest
colorful feathers and phrases
the lure of a nest

but by the time he’s done with us
we all look just like his mother
in her funeral dress

and he
a fool hung from a tarot card
painstakingly oblivious
a perpetual hapless victim

his lies make the knowing angels gag in heaven
as minions of the compromised willing
knit him bullet proof vests

we are left


stronger than the low hanging fruit
in whose flesh
he’d left his teeth behind
embedded in the past

too intelligent and strong willed to succumb
to his blues man dirge
my best guess

yet i am left with the concrete knowledge
that you are a gift

you and your friendship
are beautiful things
that came
from a blackened this

perhaps the age of our sons made us fight harder
against the rope lashed about our wrists

i don’t care who else believes it

we have another day of life to show for it

and this shared survival
sitting between us

let’s have a shot of whiskey on it
and leave
irreverently joined
glass rings
for others to find

when they open the trunk
and realize

two women survived
a doomed ship
stowed away
together in the mess

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

while eating a pink fleshed corned beef sandwich

then came that moment
sitting across the diner table
as the butter knife entered
intercostal muscles
anchoring your feminine ribs

when the last thread
holding your white summer dress


gave way

the room and your lungs fell silent
and you

you just fucking knew
to your bloody shoes
that you would be the next woman
whose character would be assassinated

body chewed by snaggled tooth
bones licked clean
gone through
entrails strung across
a pennsylvania turnpike

and he would soon be
full mouthed
reliving the kill
while eating a pink fleshed
corned beef sandwich
talking of you
using words as a means of sacrilege
to the next gullible victim

while explaining he’s never physically
hurt a woman
and you shouldn’t
make him break
his streak
over you

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

the demon plumber of montville

go ahead
cut off your pipe
and have a black hole installed inside

your entire life and being
everything you write
everything you say
everything you project
is a lie

why shouldn’t your wardrobe

we see what you truly are
we have eyes

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

no country for old women

you know what’s funny is

even as you were burying
your pen knife in my back

the good woman inside me
the part given to me by my grandmother
was trying to save you from his bloody sword

you can never say you weren’t told

and i am thankful to be reminded
how beautifully brutal life is
when we become our own agents
of instant karma

there is nothing left of your face

i guess some women just can’t get enough
of self-mutilation

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

over the cosmetics counter at macy’s

i remember sitting
in your provisionally furnished
unliving room
piled high with alphabetized stacks
of your personal and professional failures
balanced atop a neurotic collection
of pizza boxes
and coffee cans welded
into homemade torture devices

watching you waller bare assed
on your unfortunate chair
sipping coffee smoking pot
planning on bourbon
complaining no one takes your abuse
in a manner that suits your liking

i found myself wishing to be in a place
with anyone but you
to be anywhere but there
shaking out a rug
airing a mattress
applying pine sol to the length of route 80

to cleanse the earth
of your doomsday pestilence

knowing myself to be a fool
for buying into your bottom shelf poems
and cock strong swagger
my feet swiftly found an escape tunnel

but i kept a picture of you
in your dirtiest jeans
exposing your minimalist views
on having teeth
then drove into the city

had it blown up parade balloon size
and hung it up like scarecrow
a warning to all women
over the cosmetics counter at macy’s

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

faces come out of the rain

it was a late september afternoon

the northeastern seaboard air
held hostage
by a murderous storm

all that was required of me that day
was to exist happily at home

however extra time and a heart full of love
had allowed me
to take him grateful sandwiches at work

upon returning to our nest
i decided to watch a movie
to occupy my longing
for the sound of his blackened boots
climbing the stairs

we used his laptop to watch streaming films
hooked to a 174 inch flat screen tv
by a silver and gold hdmi cable

that’s when it happened

i clicked on the favorites list to pull up the movie website and there they were

his trunk of costumes and masks

a pile of social network aliases
he had been assuming

i realized he was no less than five people in my world…and everyone else’s
interacting on an eerily regular basis

profiles ranging from a black female poet
angst ridden housewives
hell, even a businessman from Taiwan

my body was crushed to my place on the floor by the enormity of the deception

the stench of oily manipulation filled the room

i left the laptop open to die uncharged
where it sat atop a book of van gogh’s work

still sitting cross legged and stunned
hours later
when he arrived back

horror slashing his face
the legion within him screamed
“Did you look into my computer?!”

the automaton of self preservation raised her head with a dissimulating smile and answered

“I watched The Mirror Has Two Faces, baby. Are you hungry?”

he retracted his fangs and leathery wings
a demon deciding we should have pasta fagiole

i packed my bags the next morning
leaving behind no explanatory note

just a few hairs in the drain and my hopes of making a life with him

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the typewriter’s widow

she lacks a mirror
to survey
what is left of her face

so she passes the time
painting pictures of grotesque animals
with human genitals