#assassins
When a detective falls in love, he does not know who to bill for expenses--
everything is up in the air.
At a mixer for suspects, he invites me to dance via loudspeaker.
Radiant in my white dress, I resemble a snowy owl
even down to my carefully bandaged hand which he takes without hesitation.
I whisper in his ear:
I am Leon Czolgosz.
Your heart is the President of the United States of America.
We are dancing in Buffalo, city by the Niagara.
My detective, of course, falls hard.
The next time we meet, I wait for him in the bullpen at the police station.
They know him there.
They hire cellists.
He confesses his deepest fantasy to me:
I want to speak words of love to you
via telephone
with our hands naked and separated only by the safety glass.
I want the call recorded
and broadcast to wild lovers around the globe.
Shortly after, we are married. I wear my favorite bearskin robe.
My small black cubs frolic nearby,
climbing the pews and then tumbling gaily down again.
My detective is resplendent in his tuxedo.
The hired band plays Funiculi Funicula.
I snarl when my detective gets too close to the cubs, and this inflames him.
At last, we lie in bed together, like busy machines come to rest.
I am wearing nothing but the revolver-shaped earrings he has given me.
My detective wears a felt fedora
and a look of smug adoration like a daredevil over the falls in a barrel.
I am The Queen of the Mist,
suspected in various thieveries, check kiting, and jaywalking.
Our love is an aviary
where birds wheel above the thundering water like intelligent confetti.
Look in your mailbox, I tell my detective.
I have left you a valentine and an Easter egg.
He asks if, after all, I am his mystery client.
I enter a plea of innocent.
My love is happy now, laughing.
Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC
They prefer the dark corners in a theatre
Places adjacent to a snack bar
But close enough to the exit
Because killers on strings
Always eat on the run
They're sown from a different cloth
Brains made of the same
Course material
As flailing arms and legs
To form one disturbing pattern
They make such good liquidators
For their eyes are dead
Their heart lifeless and unbeaten
Their long fingers perfect
For a bit of good-natured strangulation
Never mind though
We must first tip our hats
To those who truly pull the strings
Hosting kid puppet shows by day
Hiring out cute cuddly fiends after hours
Mar 12, 2020
Mar 12, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
(Sung to Where Have All the Flowers Gone)
Where have all the assassins gone,
I'm just asking,
Where have all the hit-men gone,
It wasn't long ago.
Where have all the psychos gone,
Ones like Sirhan Sirhan,
Or a crazy American,
Better still, a red Russian.
Where have all the agencies gone,
I'm just asking,
The MI5, the CIA,
KGB, Mossad;
Where have covert actions gone,
When there's a guys like loonie Kim Jong;
A psychopathic American,
A dictator with no where to run.
Where have all our heroes gone,
I'm just asking;
Where have all our leaders gone,
Not so long ago.
Where have all fine Presidents gone,
Biden was the last good one;
When will we ever learn,
Ego-maniacs can't govern.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
Deadly assassins
Hired killers of a
Secret cult
No words spoken
Vows not broken
Deadly deeds
For a hidden creed
The cloaked malice
That hides unseen
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 6:14 PM UTC
If I was a real world king,
The assassin group at my command,
Would consist of 13 experts.
If there was an assassin's creed,
They will carry out my royal orders,
All 13 of them along with me.
So would be the deadliest group,
So would be the perfect killers,
So would be the "14 Marksmen".
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
Despicability is the foundation to their life
For them it is intrinsic
Genetically encoded
Simplistic
Poetically eroded
Reprehensible at best
**Unscrupulously callous
Secrets and facts, they conveniently
ingest
Distorted byproducts, they release to the
masses
To aid their campaign; a forked tongue
fest**
Pathetic and unapologetic
A beast armed to the teeth
Imported bypasses to increase the flow of police
A weakness and an act,
They so vehemently attest
**Harvesting greens off the branches of
the people
Pockets engorged with wads and folds
Crushing blue collars at the lower levels
As they sit atop their pyramids of gold**
Today they sip champagne
To celebrate their reign
Tonight we'll skip being humane
To feed them excruciating pain
**You've incited this coup with ill-thought
deterrents
Now herald the arrival of the scourge
Down with lopsided governments
Tonight... All we would topple! Tonight we purge!**
Justin G
ryn**
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Amongst the weak.
The strong will rise.
Bringing our blades of justice.
Assassins,
All in disguise.
We rise together.
Along the line of the crowd.
Were at the corner of our fate.
Destiny will take us all.
Blades thrusted forward,
Arrows blacken the skies.
We charge into battle.
We fight for our lives.
For Freedom,
For honor.
JUSTICE.
But for whom?
I fear not what we face.
We will rise together.
Assassins for one.
AND all.
Together we fight,
Against the Templars.
We may be an Animus,
But our hearts are true.
Abstergo Destroyed a brother.
Or maybe hundreds.
Tonight,
They die by our swords.
Our blades of honor.
Will create a world of War.
Beware the Assassins,
We've Come to ****
You will die,
Drowning in the seven seas.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC