Untitled Poem 5/10/17

How can we be so close,

yet eons apart?

Born for one another

only to die alone.

My still heart awaits

the blood to pump again

as it shrivels to nothing—

a raisin in the sun:

dying.

An end that was foretold,

yet nothing was done to change it:

a destiny never collided.

Once again I will plug my book. Go buy my damn book; I need more money so I can launch my podcast "Shooting the Shit with Dan".

Untitled 5/8/2017

A Mirror hung on a gold gilded wall;

a reflection of a different future

where family portraits line a  hall.

A future where snow gently falls

untouched by man, woman, or animal.

A field tucked in for the night beneath the powder

dotted with oranged oaks.

A reflection of your beauty:

timeless.

A reflection where blue eyes show pain

beyond a perfect field:

a pain that the reflection is a falsehood.

Halls dotted with empty frames

where Intricate cobwebs live;

as the gold vanishes to dust

swept in the cold winter wind

amongst the dying trees.

The mirror cracks;

shattering to the floor

of a gutted home

A future abandoned.










Thanks for reading, and remember you can get more of my poems by purchasing my book on amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Davenport-St-Poems-Love-Loss/dp/1542808464

HEY, YOU!!

Good day everyone out there in the world, I hope everyone is doing fine. I am here not with any new rant about random shit or the next installment of A Western End (which you should click that link and read again). No, today I am here with a very special announcement, but before I get to that let me build some suspense.

Nah, I'm kidding, let me get right to it. Today I am finally proud to give you Davenport Street:  a collection of my most depressing poetry!! Buy it here on Amazon either in paperback or on the Kindle by clicking on one of the following links. I am not sure why the paperback and Kindle versions aren't on the same page. . . wait yes I do, it is because I am apparently technologically inept!

Paperback- https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1542808464

Kindle Version- https://www.amazon.com/Davenport-St-Daniel-Perrucci-ebook

Some of these you may have read on here in the past, though a lot of them went through rewrites, but most of them are exclusive to this book.


Enjoy! I am sure with my luck no matter how many times I went through and edited it I missed something, so if you notice that please ignore it or just keep it to your damn self.

Now that this collection is finished my second item on my agenda is to find an illustrator for a children's book I have written so if want to assist or know someone:

I also have started on a follow-up collection of poetry that will not deal with love like this one, but instead seems to have an even darker tone, but let's see how that goes. Also in the works for this year is my podcast "Shooting the Shit with Dan", so I may ask some of you to be a guest if I can ever afford the equipment, a collection of Haiku, the infamous Slothcano, another small short film script that I feel is extremely relevant in today's world, and finally hopefully a finished first draft of my first novel

In short my goal is to make 2017 my bitch.

A Western End

It has been a long time since I wrote this story, and trust me there is a good reason, but I won't tell you that know hopefully I will be able to reveal by the end of the month. Now, I am back to working on this Western, so before you read today's post go back and recall the first few parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Part 5

The sun hung sadly on the horizon as Norwood Lyle paced along the front porch. A crooked hand rolled cigar stuck between his lips with a Spencer 1860 Saddle Ring Carbine slung over his shoulder, and a Starr 1858 Army revolver tucked in a holster wrapped around his waist. He paces impatiently along the porch scared about the fight that is coming; he can hear the others laughing away from inside the cabin. Lyle’s nerves shake as he thinks of all the nightmares he has had since the day they found themselves stuck at this cabin.

The dreams all start the same: breakfast, that he had prepared. Racist jokes and comments that usually involve him being called a nigger which angers Shelby. It then goes to them all being killed in one way or another. The one from a fortnight ago that has stuck with him and has caused him to jump at the sound of the cabin door shutting, or the banging from the shots they fired at quail; the dream felt too real and he remembers what his mother told him when he was a young boy “dreams are a glimpse into the past, present, and future and shan’t be ignored. Know tha signs an’ do somethin’ when they show tha cards of ya future.”

The dreams have been going on for months, but after that particular one had he awoke with his mother’s words echoing throughout his mind. A dream that even in the rising sun and the cool smell of frozen air he can’t escape.

It started with the scent of coffee as it filled a small one roomed cabin. Lyle stood over a cast iron stove as the grease from bacon splattered singeing the hair on his arm. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as he leaves the bacon sizzling on the pan and heads to the door of the cabin to try and call in the rest of the gang.

The door opened and he was greeted by a sweet Tennessee summer and the white of the cotton fields instead of the cold unforgiving prairies: he wanted to run, but his feet carried him to the field as the cabin faded into a soft white cloud and floated to the sky. The field was empty; no slaves, nor any sign of the overseer, but Lyle began his picking.

The sun grew larger and larger as he made his down through the rows of cotton filling his bag as fast as his calloused hand could move. The sun blinded him but he continued to pick cotton. He could hear the sound of whistling flutes and pounding drums amongst the stamping of a thousand boots. Cannon fire echoed through the plantation and Lyle looked up to watch the sun explode blackening the field. He goes back to picking the cotton the and silence is momentarily returned to the field only to be interrupted by the soft galloping of a horse that now stood in Lyle’s way. Atop the pure white stead sat his master, Tom.

“Masta, I ain’t gonna get this done if ya standin’ in my way!”

“This that nigger that ya looking for right here,” Tom screamed without taking his eyes off Lyle who stared up at the white oppressor.

A whip cracked down across his eyes and his dream turned red. He could hear the muffled sound of voices speaking, but the blood poured into his ears. He screamed, but even his own voice sounded like a distant yelp of a dying coyote.

When the blood finally cleared a second man stood in front of him. The man was Marshal Cummings donning the gray uniform of a Confederate officer, he had a sword pressed upon Lyle’s black neck.

“Yes, this is that filthy animal I have been searching for.” The Marshal lifted his sword high ready to strike down and sever Norwood Lyle’s head from the rest of his body when he was interrupted by gunfire coming from the other end of the cotton field.

Bullets ripped into Tom turning the cotton a deep red, yet his horse remained pristine glowing white against the sunless Tennessee morning.  Lyle turned around and watched as the Kindel Gang stood in the field firing at the Marshal, but their bullets seemed to scatter all around him destroying the crops and the body of Tom who sat lifelessly, yet upright, on the horse; bullets entering his body without ever leaving, blood pouring out without ever touching the angelic stead he sat upon.

With quicker draw than any man he had ever seen, the old graying Marshal lifted his peacemaker from a holster putting a bullet in the head of every Kindel gang member; saving Shelby for last. Shelby begged for his life raising his hands high in the sky; they continue to stretch up to the blackness where the heavens should have been when the Marshal takes a single shot ripping Shelby’s face clean off revealing his black skull; a black so heavy it stood out even against the dark sky. The dead gang leader’s extended arms floated slowly to the ground piling on top of his headless corpse.

Marshal Cummings then turned his attention back to his sword which was once again high above Lyle’s neck. The field vanishes and is replaced by all white; the sky evaporates and is replaced with one giant white cloud that engulfs everything. The bodies vanish and those too are replaced by white. Just Lyle, the Marshal, and the white horse so white and pure only it’s brown eyes stood out against the whiteness of the scene, and Tom still atop it sitting up straight, but still covered in his own blood.

“You have done evil things, my son,” it was the Marshal’s mouth that was moving, but it was a deeper richer voice than that of Cummings, “and your sins in this world will be paid for in the next.” The blade began its descent down from high above; it began to move in slow motion. Lyle was frozen like he had been many times before the whip cracked and slashed against his once scar free back; the other slaves looked at as a sign of Lyle’s courage when in reality it was his cowardice that kept him from running or screaming as the whip rushed down. This time his cowardice of all he had done since leaving that Tennessee plantation froze him. The sword starts to rip through his neck when Lyle awakes from the dream.

A cool breeze rushes through the plains causing the old home to creak and sway slightly as the door to the cabin swings open.

“Everythin’ good Lyle?” Shelby’s voice echoed from the front door, “Ya don’t seem to be here in this world.”

“Yas boss, I’m fine.” Lyle takes a deep breath and feels Shelby’s right hand grasp his shoulder.

“Lyle, you’re a good man.”

“Thank ya boss.” a tear begins to run down his cheek. “I’m scared here, boss. Been havin’ nightmares.

The laughter of the other members of the gang is carried over the air with another strong gust of wind then all the sounds dropout and an eerie silence crept in with a thick gray cloud that blocks out the sun.

“Me too,” Shelby says softly, “Me too.”

Haiku Volume 15

Good day everyone out there, I am here with some new Haiku for this holiday week. Christmas is coming so for those who celebrate Merry Christmas, I can't wake to drink heavily and hopefully watch the Knicks win! 

For those who celebrate Chanukah, which begins Saturday, I say to you Happy Chanukah. To those who celebrate Kwanza. starting next Monday . . . well I mean I doubt anyone reading this celebrates Kwanza since a very small amount of the populous does, but whatever: Joyous Kwanza to you: though I got to say the core principles of Kwanza should hold true for everyone; they are perfect ways to build a better you and a better community, but I'm off it. For those who don't celebrate anything, sup. 

Now I wrote some Ku's here some holiday themed and some my normal depressing shit, with the final one dedicated to my late grandmother. Some of you know you she passed Christmas Eve of last year, for those of you who didn't, well, now you do. So I just want to take a moment to say that I miss you grandma and I will drink a Manhattan sometime soon in your honor and will wear a Red Sox hat on Christmas Eve for you. We all love and miss you.

Now, who wants to read some Haiku? I'm assuming you since you clicked on this link and are reading this long drawn out introduction.

I

Pure white softly falls

covering flashing colors

light muted in night.

II

Fat home invader

watches children while they sleep,

but they still love him.

III

Blistering cold wind

freezes my tears like your heart

as I watch you leave.

IV

Cold brown corneas

cutting like a knife through me

ceasing my heart beat

V

A flock of black birds

fly over— blotting the sun;

darkening below.

VI

The puppy attacks

chomping down on ornaments.

Oops, there goes the tree!

VII

Candles burn brightly

bringing a new flame nightly

brought by the shamash.

VIII

A year since you left;

yet you remain with us all

this Christmas season.

Haiku Volume 14

Good Evening all, I hope I find you in a mood. As from my previous posts through November I was participating in NaNoWriMo with the goal of writing a rough draft of a novel within a month. . . I failed miserably; alas that does not mean I finish the novel, it just means I won't as soon as I had hoped. But, since November is over, I will post new shit here and that will begin with a fresh batch of Haiku!

I

Moments between us

run congruent with those I

dream to have with you.

II

Dark times abound us:

we must hold out in hopes the

light is soon to come.

III

Born with a heart, but

lost it on the road. Only

you can return it.

IV

Crying out at night

looking for life in the dark;

no one hears my calls.

V

Trapped inside my mind

is an untold story that's

waiting to be born.

VI

Bourbon in your glass

with the sweet taste on your breath

as our tongues dance.

VII

You and I in bed―

your soft black hair on my chest:

nerves keep it a dream.

VIII

Soft white piled high

to the bright gray skies above.

Kids play and cars slide.

Like a Good Neighbor

November is nearing its end and that is far more than I can say about my NaNoWriMo novel which will not be finished by days end like as was my goal, but it will get finished soon. As I said in the last few posts I am not doing any writing in November except that so I have no new content to offer. Instead, I have been sharing Reddit writing prompt inspired shorts, so today I bring you one last one for the month. Once December hits I will work on the next post of Movies That You Should Sit Down and Watch, but since it isn't December you get this slop. The prompt on this was "Write erotica of hilariously bad quality", enjoy, or don't I don't give a hoot.

P.s. This is NSFW, so I am just going to toss that out there awkwardly like a ceremonial first pitch from  50 Cent.

“Uhh. . . khakis.”

My wife slammed the phone into my chest.

“Well, she sounds hideous.” She seethed.

“Well, she’s a man,” I told her confused.

“Uhhh, so, sir what can state farm do for you tonight?” Jake spoke into my chest.

“I’m sorry Jake, my wife thinks I’m sleeping around and talking with hookers or something.”

“I’m Jake. . . from State Farm. You called about insurance.”

“I know, I know, but my wife doesn’t know that. I need you to come over.” Jake didn’t respond, “Jake?”

“I don’t think I’m going to do that Mr. Davidson,” Jake paused, I didn’t respond I could hear my wife throwing all of my things out the upstairs window into the lawn, “But looking over your policy I think we can save you $250 by combining your auto and home insurance.”

“Just come over Jake from State Farm. My wife will like it.”

“I’m going to end this conversation, sir. Have a nice night.”

“I didn’t want to do this Jake,” I took a deep breath and began to sing, “Like a good neighbor State Farm is here with Jake and a box of condoms in my living room.”

Jake appeared in the living room in a puff of smoke, wearing a red shirt and a pair of freshly pressed khakis. He frowned I smiled. “Hi there Jake, she is upstairs let’s go do this.”

“Where am I sir, I need to get home and walk my dog.”

“You can’t deny the jingle; it’s in your contract. Now let’s go upstairs.” Jake reluctantly followed with the box of condoms firmly grasped in his hand.

My wife was sitting on the edge of the bed crying, all of my drawers empty the contents all lying on the front lawn.

“Honey, I brought you a present.”

She looked up and saw Jake; he was chubby and blonde and looked like a younger version of myself: she was into it.

“Jake here is a dog person, but Jake why don’t you go show my wife you what you can do with a nice kitty.” Jake walked over to the bed and took my wife’s pants of and dove head first into her snatch like he was Greg Louganis, my wife screamed with pleasure. Her head swung back and her mouth wide open as her box was being munched like it was a $5 box from KFC. She screamed his name, Jake’s head bobbed back and forth as he covered every inch. I walked over and my wife pulled my pants down and started to thrust her mouth over my penis. I took her shirt off and started playing with her stiff nipples.

“Honey, today you finally see Paris.”

I stood my wife up and she stood in between me and Jake, her pussy dripping and her chest heaving. I bent her down and front of me and slid my cock into her vagina, she screamed wildly. I pounded her while Jake slid on a condom. Once it was on my wife paused and looked at his erect penis, “Like a good neighbor State Farm is here!” Jake said as my wife deep throated his penis. I looked over my wife at Jake and we double high-fived as we penetrated our members into my wife’s gaping holes.