Finally finished the novel I’ve been working on for a few years.

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Hollywood writer and Antichrist, Goops Goombadi explains his story from death row. Meanwhile an average Joe gets fed up with society and discovers paradise, but can he be trusted with the new responsibility of being the only human in a utopia?

The Invisible Escalator is a wild romp through the dark and boundless imagination of the author. The epic tale reads like a nightmare on paper that won’t let you put it down. This novel is nothing short of high comedy and lowlife genius working in tandem to craft an original story that has more layers than an onion and will make you cry twice as hard.

The world has ended and only Jim is to blame. It wasn't long ago that Jim was dreaming of a perfect world; a world of peace and plenty, a place where people don't hurt or bother one another but instead try to understand each other, though when Jim dreamt of such a place, it had not sounded like a curse. Jungle Jim is the story of a post-modern world that almost worked but failed during a growing pain and the man who witnessed it all happen, just as the ancient prophecies and calendars foretold. Follow Jim's epic saga from a fiery airplane in the sky, to a cold clammy hole in the jungle; from a hole in the jungle, to "the real world" a brand new utopia full of colorful animals, and friendly dinosaurs. Trace Jim's steps back from one side of "the hole" to the other and back again, to find a bloated and gassy old man in a bunker who is not sure whether to blame God or himself for the worlds he has seen destroyed, and finally, ask the daunting questions that Jim thought he had already answered during his life of pseudo-slavery as a disgruntled and under-appreciated grocer that inevitably sent him on his folly. "What is perfection" and "What is happiness? And most importantly "What is the purpose of all of this"

What is Real - Poem

Truthful as an autopsy 

Underscored in porcelain 

Drawing breaths like the air

Was thick hashsheesh from 

Coals on top of tinfoil

Walking with a wider gate

Like I reverted back 

To when men were apes

Everything is everything 

And nothing is nothing

Close to truth

But learning makes me blue

So live it up!

Deaths around the coroner 

I know enough Spanish to fool my friends

But I can’t fool the Mexicans 

I stuffed my problems 

In a shelf

Until my problems 

Began to smell

There is only the right thing to do

And the wrong thing makes two

Why do we suffer most 

By our own unsteady hand?

I wear all these scars

like I’m sporting my own brand

A statistic in many ways

Obscured and lost in the parade

Sent a glitter bomb in the mail

So the feds tossed me in the wrong jail

I swore that I was innocent 

But I’m Too superstitious 

to swear to god on it

I told them every puddle is a lake

The polygraph results were vague

It is written we were made from clay

And the fiery ones all flew away

Open like an unread book

That moths and beetles overtook 

Relics, gems and precious things

Are still among external things

You’ve looked low and high

For solutions and answers

But they were there the whole time

As close to you as your insides

But The battles and wars 

Fought In the fields 

Convinced us all

What’s out there 

is what is real

Forget Me Not - Poem

Too unclean to hire a maid 

Keep coming home to my bed unmade 

Another whores bath in Babylon 

It’s all my fault the gas got turned off

No one sits to wait for the train

It smells like sulfur 

Though it’s pouring rain

They say hind sight is twenty twenty

But I don’t even remember 

A day of my twenties 

The primal lizard part of my brain

Calls the shots day to day

It could be better, it could get worse 

But I still haven’t rode 

In the back of a Hurst 

I ask politely to be excused 

But it still came off as very rude

Count your blessings when you drink

Until you’re so strung out,

it makes you weep

Up and down and in between

I’m just a note oscillating 

Never could meditate 

Always present but in a daze

The holy grail appeared to me

But the round table gave away my seat

The chances are low 

That all who exist

Will go with the flow 

And not against

Gave a buck to a Santa ringing a bell

Like that would save my skin from hell 

If I could go back in time

I’d refuse a longer life

Regan closed the funny farms

It did less good than it did harm 

So many with so little or less

But many of them believe they’re blessed 

I only bought a rosary

Because she was muddy 

and mothering three

Now it hangs above my head 

Depicting such a horrific death

These are all just idle thoughts 

Nothing special 

No forget-me-not

They’ll give you just enough to stay afloat but never enough to swim away



You’ve given it your all and then some more

 bill collector made his bed at your door 

You thought the hoops and loops would end for you

But now it’s happening to all your grandkids too

You can be anything and go everywhere 

But you’ll smell like shit within a week out there

So you take your pen and write your congressman 

But your return address changes once Again 

So you guess you’ll pray and join the local church 

But it’s Another dead end in your search

It’s funny, it’s the same thing we’re all looking for

But by the time you ask for help 

Your bloated body has washed ashore

Wouldn’t it be nice

Just to swim?

You thought the hoops and loops would end for you

But now it’s happening to all your grandkids too

You can be anything and go everywhere n  go 

But you’ll smell like shit within a week out there

Too Tall a Tale

Two modest puffs

Of the good stuff

Cuz life on blue earth

Is oh so rough

They don’t really care

They’re mostly unaware

And there ain’t no winner 

In a game of truth or dare

Guy’s Dancing for himself 

In front of a subway mirror 

He spit-shined the surface 

But that don't make things clear

When I grew up, teacher said:

“Always look both ways.

Don’t ever talk to strangers”

I miss them good ole’ days

Cold and all alone

With only an Obama phone

In the snow, he sees his breath

But the crystals will be his death

Now it’s for certain 

Bigfoot is real

We all know the government

And the devil been making deals

I want sleep without dreams

To fly without wings

To board up the windows

With driftwood and zinc

I want Casual dining 

And a New York fling 

While on my tippy toes

The water ain’t that deep

Not abandoned

Just ran far away

Not born again or saved

Doc, it all began 

Around 6th or 7th grade

I don’t make eye contact with strangers 

I know better than that

No curtsy, bow or fist-bump

No tipping of a hat

So much of this world’s unknown 

But I can tell you this 

When you think you’re all grownup 

You’re still a little kid

Blasphemously fortunate 

Piously under paid

No way they built the pyramids

With just tens of thousands of slaves

Multiple personalities 

Who will we be today?

We're all Missing something 

Only found within a grave

Cold cut like a hoagie

Got a new electric stogie 

It’s far too tall a tale

That this life has unveiled 

Too tall a tale…

I’ve been, I am, I will be

I’ve been an angel

I’ve been a thief

I’ve been a hunter 

I’ve been the meat

I’ve been starving.

With pearls at my feet

I’ve picked the fruit.

No one should ever eat

I’ve been all over.

But I never left home 

I’ve been in large crowds,

But still swore that I was alone

I was important

A Lifetime ago 

Now I’m not sure what matters

Or if I have a soul

I’ve been in jeopardy.

Been caught in checkmate 

I’ve turned the tables 

And I’ve Picked up the pace. 

been flanked by the past

Fight, flight or freeze

Then, now and tomorrow

Which one is me?

I’ve browsed every isle

And I’ve checked out my heart

I’ve never been one

To bring back 

A grocery cart

I am the shepherd 

the wayward sheep

I am the strength 

That makes people weak 

I am the lion

In a gilded cage

I am the fire

The white burning rage

I am the shelter

From the four winds

That locks all the doors when 

You finally get in

I am an ego

I am the meek

I am the joy in

A little Suffering

I am the bread and

I am the wine

But my temple

Is not Devine

I am the night that

Ends every day

I am the saint that

Caught the plague 

I am the gift they

Took from you

I am the life you

Didn’t choose

I am the years

Without the light

I am the fear

That holds on tight 

I am a useless apology

I am a church that’s 

Lost its need

I am the want to

Do what’s right 

Being abandoned 

By the need to fight 

I will be quite certain 

And not a class clown

I will be the black sheep

That won’t let you down 

I promise I’m worth it

Ask all around 

I’ll be back on my feet 

And not the talk of the town

I want to get married

To the love of my life

Tuck in the children 

Kiss them good night

Won’t pour all my feelings

Into a cheap jug of wine 

I will try to see better

When we stand eye to eye 

Nobody’s perfect 

But nobody’s you

I hope you’ll remember 

God’s still learning too

And I pray I have said something 

That I hope will be heard

But one says more in silence

Than one says with their words 

I can only speak

For only myself 

Seems you can’t get to heaven

Without first going through hell

To live forever in heaven

You must first go through hell

Chameleon of the Sunset.

Here is a story about a desperate green bird named Senior Verde and his attempt to win the heart of the woman he has adored since he was a chick. 

Her name is Rosita.

 Every mating season since adulthood, Senior Verde has danced for Rosita in front his bright green nest that he decorated just for her. No matter how bright the colors of his nest or no matter how hard he danced for her, she was unaffected by his efforts to court her.

 One day a chameleon came into their village and wandered past senior Verde’s nest.

Senior Verde saw the chameleon and he jumped out of his nest quickly.

“Hey lizard! Hey you with the eyes! My name is Senior Verde, and I could use your help

with something especially important to me, please!”

The chameleon paused and gave his attention to Senior Verde.

 “Why, you are the most brilliant green thing I have ever seen in my life! It is nearly the end of our one day a year to find a mate and Rosita is still unimpressed by me. Will you stand next to my green nest and make it even greener for my love?”

The chameleon answered, 

“I am the chameleon of the sunset.”

“That’s great” - said Verde, “Just a little to the left and…PERFECT! Don’t move an inch.

Look lizard! she’s coming.”

Rosita examined the nest and like the years before, she had very little enthusiasm for Verde and his love for all thing green.

“What about my favorite color, pink?” she asked out loud.

She started to move to the next nest when suddenly the sun began to set, and the sky changed to all the colors of the rainbow. The colors of the sky met the chameleon on the jungle floor and began to change the color of its skin. Rosita paused to watch the display. 

The chameleon changed from blue to green, then to red and then to orange, then purple and gold and finally pink.

Senior Verde yelled at the chameleon and told him to stop changing colors and to immediately return to the most vivid green he could produce but to Verde’s shock, Rosita immediately fell in

love with him for putting on such a wonderful show for her.”

“Lizard! My friend. I am so sorry that I tried to make you into something you are not for my own selfish cause. It was your ability to change colors that won my love’s heart, even though you were the brightest color of green I’ve ever seen; you were also the most beautiful shade of every color that exists!

Please tell me your name so that we can name our first born after you, my dear friend!”

“I am the chameleon of the sunset”

                               A Current Event 

                                        by           

                                 P.D DeLucchi

When we think of sentient beings, we feel a little alone perhaps; being the only ones we know who are sentient. 

Maybe we are misguided in thinking this.

In fact. I know most certainly that this is not true.

I’m not going to make a case for dolphins or elephants or aliens from somewhere in the inky unknown.

This is a story about a river.

Now, when we see rivers, we generally perceive them as a singular, ever-flowing and unaware mass but, not that this is a revelation, they are made of different currents, traveling together endlessly.

What if I told you that each one of these currents have their own identity, names as well as ambitions and feelings?

This is a story of Sarah, the current.

She travelled on and on with other currents that she knew or came to know along side her. Some of these currents she had known since she first came to be in this world. Others she had met in her travels and they replaced some of the childhood friend currents that at one time, Sarah would never have Imagined parting with.

The banks of the river were lush and green and the trees bore fruit and the fauna ate and played and mated along these banks and many currents were happy to know that they were giving life to an ecosystem.

Beyond these banks, the land was arid and dry and the soil was dead and hard as stones.

Sarah was tired of being lost in a mix of currents that made up the river because she had always wanted to be recognized as an individual and not just a part of a group.

This was a rare sentiment among the currents, however she had met and had known several currents who also felt like they wanted their own identity and to make their own special mark in the world.

These currents inspired her and were the catalyst for her longing to be something more and to divert to another path that was truly her own.

Carry, was Sarah’s best friend growing up and Carry had very wild and almost taboo ideas and was the most individualistic person she had ever met.

One day, Carry couldn’t take being part of the crowd any longer and she told Sarah that she would be leaving the river soon. 

Part of Sarah was deeply afraid for her friend but another part really wished that she would do it and succeed, so that Sarah may have hope to someday do the same.

The day had come and it was a particularly hot day with very low humidity.

The river banked hard to the east near some rapids and without another thought, Carry used all of her strength to bank to the West.

Carry flowed over hard clay without the shade of any trees. 

Carry had finally become her very own stream. 

Sure a river is mightier than a stream but this stream was entirely her own effort and ambitions.

Carry made it as far as half a mile before the sun vaporized her into nothingness and after, there was nothing that would ever signify that she had one been a stream of her own.

Sarah mourned her dear friend and almost abandoned the idea of trying to become her own stream, or day she say, river, someday.

As the years passed, Sarah met many others like Carry who wanted to do and even tried to do the same thing Carry had attempted.

They all failed and burnt up in the sun.

The other complacent currents would “tisk-tisk” about these foolish currents and felt little to no remorse or empathy for their loss.

It had been pouring rain for several days at one time and they had not seen the sun in a while. 

The river flooded here and there and some of even the most conforming currents were lost to the banks of the river due to the storm, never to rejoin the pack.

Sarah decided that this was her chance. 

There was a hard western bend up ahead and with all her might, she went to the east instead.

She heard some of her friends calling after her to come back but she just kept going.

The storm lasted long enough for Sarah to survive solo, and by the time the weather had returned to normal, green grass and large bushes had grown around Sarah’s stream. 

Years passed, and now Sarahs stream dwarfed her home river in size by almost double.

Her banks were green and the trees bore fruit and the fauna ate their fill and played joyfully.