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Showing posts from February, 2016

Poem - Cherry, Cherry, Plum, and a Cigarette by Bobby D. Lux

The old Vietnamese man
approached me while
I clung to life at the nickel slots
waiting for that free drink
at The Frontier.

I was down
because of course 
I was. No one drops 
nickels when they have
the golden touch.

"You want to know the secrets
to winning?" he says.

I looked at his green mesh
San Diego Chargers hat
adorned with a playful rainbow 
of sweat stains.

But first, there was business 
to be addressed. I shrugged
and did not have a cigarette
to bargain with so he
called the whole thing off.

I'm still waiting for those
secrets, but if he truly knew
them, he'd at least have had 
a full set of teeth
and then some.

Back at the cash machine
I looked over my shoulder just
to catch security escorting him 
back out onto the strip.

I wondered if that was one
of those moments
where Jesus appears to you
in disguise 
to see
if you're a good person
or not.   




The Bronx Kill - Graphic Novel Review

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The flaw is on my end, but I'm a far harsher critic on a story that features a struggling writer as the protagonist. I feel the same way about movies about people making movies. Ugh. Moving on... 

The writer in this case is Martin Keane, a should-be fourth generation New York cop who bucks the through line of his family history and, instead, is a one-hit wonder novelist with a failed second book. One who would far more successful if he took his father's advice and wrote something like Ed McBain or James Ellroy. The problem with Martin's writing is that he can't connect to his past and his work feels like he's running from something. 
Of course he is. 
There's a long-lingering family secret concerning Nora, Martin's Grandmother, who mysteriously vanished without a trace long ago. 
After spending several months in Ireland, away from his father and Erin, his wife, Martin returns home to New York, reinvigorated as a writer. Soon after his homecoming, Erin goes mis…

Poem - His Slowliness by Bobby D. Lux

It was with heavy hand and drowning conscious  that I honked at a monk who took too long to merge onto the 405.
"Gooooooooooo!!!" I gestured with a fervor normally reserved for swatting fruit flies away from old bananas I’m sadly certain that I also swore at him too. Cocksucker, for argument’s sake.
I immediately felt pretty stupid. Because, I mean, come on, I just honked at a monk. An orange robed, bald headed, monk who inadvertently just taught me a lesson about patience in this modern world.
Who was I to rush this lone monk on his path driving a beat up, old. . .
Wait a minute, what the hell was a monk doing driving a early 80’s Honda Civic?
Oh yeah, it was Halloween.
Upon further review,
it was indeed  a righteous honk.

New Poem - Dreams of Arson

I believe I'm entering what critics will later call "...his suburban rage satire phase."  But also, there's a decent chance that no one is reading this, so there you go.

Anyhow, a poem.

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DREAMS OF ARSON - 2.10.16

I imagine myself a lone voice 
     screaming 
          into the abyss 
               a black hole of rage
                    emanating

against the plight of the oppressed, the
     forced into servitude in a
          system that’s 
               designed to keep them suppressed
                    amidst

promises of a better tomorrow
     forever at war allied with the voiceless 
          lending a willing body and charged voice
               ready to scream:

“BURN IT DOWN!!!!!!!!”

Whatever rises from the ashes 
must surely 
be a paradise compared to this.
But, as always, it’s the asshole fireman
next door who took his boat
and left for the week
while a work crew demos his backyard
to clear some space for that room addition and
whatever the fuck else they’re doing …

Comic Review - Batman: Europa

Batman and Joker have both been poisoned by an fatal unknown virus and have just days to find a cure, their fates seemingly intertwined, forcing unimaginable pairing of the two. Their search brings them across the Atlantic to Europe as they race against their failing bodies to heal themselves. 
I was intrigued by the high-concept offered by Batman: Europa, a four-part miniseries that concluded today. There were a lot of elements to play with -- the unlikely duo of Batman being forced to work with The Joker in addition to both of those players dropped in a fish-out-of-water setting. The result fails to deliver on the promise of the premise. Neither the pairing, nor the setting really added much to the already decades long relationship between the two characters. 
As Batman and Joker bounce across Europe with stops in Prague, Paris, and Rome, each city serves as little more than an obvious metaphor for some well-known bat themes. Take Rome, for example, where Batman remarks that it's …