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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

Rob.jpg

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

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Robert Roman
Nov 19

My Own Private Ulysses: The Apex Sonneteer



The Apex Sonneteer


Why do I punch down on punks like james joyce,

And his weak, beta-at-best, book of bloom?       

My innate primacy leaves me no choice; 

Alpha Dogs always deliver the boom.         

I toy with rhymes like what’s-his-face, the bard.

Pretty pathetic, his pencil-neck verse.          

He’s just a plebe, I’m Praetorian Guard,

And He-Man Master of this Universe.

I’ll mansplain: socrates is to plato        

To aristotle to alex the great              

And ithaca’s king to each othello

On to bloom. None can match what I create.

So, look on my might. I’m a Force Majeure!

Just ignore slight delusions of my grandeur.   

 

 

Subscribe and stay tuned for more swollen sonnets.

Same testosterone time, same creatine channel.

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