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Robert

Roman

Empire

RED BRICK ALLEY STORIES

The Killards Are Coming

Every damn day in Religion Class, Sister Anna Banana yapped about the Soviets revving up to start a nuclear war with the new president, Ronald Reagan. She said after the cities burned to Holy Hell, there’d be something called “nuclear winter” that would kill all... 

Double-Strength Demon Dogs

Fantastic Freddie was the only altar boy from the Red Brick Alley. He was always consecrating Ritz Crackers and trying to make us eat them like communion wafers. He light-fingered incense from the sacristy, and he blessed water from Old Lady Tully’s spigot...

Laser Loop

I couldn’t see over the tall green school bus seat except when we hit a pothole and I bounced up in the air like a Pop-Tart jumping out of a toaster. Nobody at Saint Augie’s could believe I was allowed to go. My first school picnic ever. I was good from the day I handed in my pink...

The Boy Wonder

How the Hell did Jaggerbush get himself up there? He was clawing his way up into the open window above the Science class door like a real-life gargoyle. The blockhead of a wooden mallet stuck out of the back of his Toughskins where his butt crack was. He wore three...

About The Author

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Robert Roman grew up in Pittsburgh, PA, where he sold newspapers to cars from a concrete island. Read more→

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My Own Private Ulysses: Not Thucydides, The Ulysses Trap

  • Writer: Robert Roman
    Robert Roman
  • Apr 13
  • 1 min read

Updated: Apr 14


Art by Johnny Quintanilla



Not Thucydides, The Ulysses Trap


You crave escape from this Ulysses Trap,

Where my grizzled beartrap brain raves ensnared,

Metal scrapped, rapt by his madcap mousetrap,

Baring rhymes like the mentally impaired.

So, what’s the subject of this crap project?

No! Not the claptrap of identity.

Your oh so special affect sounds suspect.

Faux respect flaps unchecked. Blow…or just spare me.

Who steals tables and chairs from Starbucks?

With no seats, bums can’t sit, your lap sucks.

This seems a vague rant about the real crooks.

Is this yap better than the best of books?

No. This be the verse outside Joyce’s trap: 

A perverse joyless ride. Get back in ASAP.

 

 

Stay tuned for more spilling sonnets.

Same frothy time, same caffeinated channel.

 
 
 

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© 2016 by Robert Roman - Red Brick Alley
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