"mobster" poems
You're the Wacky Wolf-man,
Tearing through our pages with a single huff.
Breathing life into us little piggies,
Blasting your way through the daily fluff.
You're the Word Wizard.
Leaving us in awe and in dribbles.
Waving your wand,
Conjuring magical and spellbinding scribbles.
You're the Living Legend,
Almost like a deity of some sort.
Garnering shiploads of admiration,
Through words of encouragement, banter and retort.
You're the Bad Boy Bard...
Never mincing your words.
Unconventional, you howl amidst the flocks...
You never did chirp like the birds...
You're the Minstrel Mobster,
Shooting your Tommy, never missing.
Flicking forward your fedora,
Strung lute ever smoking.
You're one Cool Cat.
Fending off haters with a bat.
Everyone just wants to be that.
Like a superhero whose symbol is a bat...
You're a Gem Generator.
Cogs and gears churning the jewels laid
Machine malfunction! My system's jammed!
Well I guess that's just it... Enough said!
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
A mob boss for president…
Yikes! That's what we've got--
One who profits from crime
Without a second thought;
Who keeps his family close by;
Who's close to each paisano;
Who looks less like a Lincoln,
And more like Tony Soprano;
Who praises convicted felons,
And pardons them as well;
Who cares less about country
And more about his cartel.
Loyalty is his mantra.
His underlings owe him all.
He sounds like a mobster when
His back's against the wall.
He'll rip you a new one if
You ever decide to flip
And prove that you're a rat,
Or try to give him the slip.
"Flipping should be illegal,"
He brazenly repeats.
Without it he knows there'd be
More crooks on the streets.
A power-hungry bully:
It's his goal to be one.
Listen to his rhetoric:
"I know a rat when I see one."
His fixer threatens reporters
And does the boss's bidding.
But when he seeks revenge,
The boss isn't kidding!
Driven by ambition,
Egomania and greed,
He lets mob ethics guide him
To always take the lead.
He's the kind of guy
You read about in books.
Watch how he surrounds
Himself with other crooks.
Those who cooperate
With law enforcement will find
That he retaliates
If ever he's maligned.
Top decision maker,
He gets such a thrill
Promoting or demoting
Anyone at will.
Having a no-good mob boss
As leader strikes a nerve
Because it's hard to accept
That that's what we deserve.
-by Bob B (8-25-18)
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
Deaths Of 2013
My third year doing this.
Paul Walker, Texas ranger,
driving fast leads to danger.
Matt Osbourne was Doink The Clown,
Paul Bearer always wore a frown.
Dennis Farina and James Gandolfini,
always played a mobster meany.
Peter O'Toole, famous actor,
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
President Nelson Mandela,
Dennis Burkley, was a famous fat actor fella.
Lou Reed, is now on the wild side,
took all the colored girls for a ride.
Conrad Bain and Bonnie Franklin,
tv actors who had white skin.
Paul Blair and Stan The Man,
playing baseball, when they can.
Marcia Wallace and Lisa Robin Kelly,
both had ***** that bounced like jelly.
Tom Clancy wrote famous books,
not much on having good looks.
Cory Montieth and Patti Page,
one died young, other of old age.
Jean Stapleton, was Edith Bunker,
Archie always put her in the dumper.
Pat Summerall and Deacon Jones,
played football and broke some bones.
Dr. Joyce Brothers and Pauline Phillips,
they both gave good and bad tips.
Ray Manzarek, from The Doors,
Jeff Hanneman knew all Slayers chords.
Chrissy Amphlett, liked to touch herself,
Caleb Moore's trophies are on his shelf.
Mindy McCready and George Jones,
both hit those country tones.
Chris Kelly from Kris Kross,
Ed Koch is a New York loss.
David Frost and Roger Ebert,
always had words to insert.
Anneitte Funicello from Mickey Mouse Club,
Eydie Gorme almost got a snub.
Jonathan Winters, was very funny,
to come from Mork's egg, made him money.
If you don't know who these people are,
look them up, internet not very far.
For the ones that I missed,
please don't get to ******
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Chicago, Chicago, it’s a very big place
Chicago, Chicago, it’s a total disgrace;
Bet your flabby buttocks you'll lose the blues in Chicago,
Chicago, the town where someone sat on my face.
On State Street, that great street, I just want to say
I did things with strangers, both straight and gay;
I had the time, the time of my life;
I met a mobster and slept with his wife
In Chicago, one fine day. Hey! Hey!
Chicago, Chicago, where tragedy struck,
O horror, O horror, what a bit of bad luck;
Bet your flabby buttocks I’ll not go back to Chicago,
Chicago, where my girlfriend got hit by a truck.
On Lake Shore, a fat ***** one fine sunny day
I picked up and we thought we’d go for a lay;
Her husband took a hammer and bashed in her ****
It took a couple of hours to mop up the bits
In Chicago, one fine day. Hey! Hey!
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
I am a criminal,
So you and the papers say.
They would put me away
For countless nights and days.
Tucked away "safe" in jail,
All for the choice of herbs I inhale.
That they would only have their way...
Yet I am no marauding mobster,
No gangster for hire.
I smoke in the evenings
When daylight is fleeting
And withdraw to my rooms to retire.
I am no plundering pirate
Pillaging your private property.
I go about my day,
As right as I may,
You will find no evil protégée.
I am spoken in the same breath
As delinquents and undesirables.
The infamously unfavourable,
Mire on our tireless society.
Well I am tired now,
Fatigued.
I've grown weary of living
In your narrow minded
Make believe.
Yet I leave you be.
Keep to mine and own.
It is you who lights the torches
From high deluded throne.
It is you who crafted and rounded
That perfect stone,
Hurled with such indiscrimination
Always many, never alone.
Each night now I wonder,
When I cross that imaginary line.
Such fools we've been,
The waste obscene,
Who really commits the crime?
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
I have a neighbor his name was Envy.
Though I am sleeping, he always wakes me up.
I admit that I am annoyed and never see a favor.
Why is he like that? so hardheaded man.
I never want him to be my companion.
His family was not a good example.
Everyone of them were drunkards,
Even the baby inside the womb of his daughter.
They have no hope to be seen and hear.
All things they have were all stolen from elsewhere.
Like Mr. and Mrs. Greed their grand grand parent.
Were so good in trickery to fool the eyes.
From the oldest one to youngest were in training.
In the famous Mobster University located everywhere.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
A man wore silk designer suits
Rolex on his wrist
His shoes were made in Italy
Had trillions in his fist
He had the perfect trophy wife
Kids in private schools
Drove Bentleys and Mercedes
He was no one's fool
He had mansions worldwide
Shopped Paris on the Rue
His address was a penthouse
On 5th Avenue
-
There was a man without a dime
Who lived upon a grate
Where warm air from the subway
Could share in his "estate"
He wore the rags which he had found
In shelters on the way
He sat and watched the rich man
Who walked by that day
His groaning and his mumbling
Annoyed the wealthy man
Who took care to walk around him
As he went about his plans
-
The rich man died a hero
His widow & kids drew hence
His many friends came round about
They spared no expense
The poor begger had no one
Had no money saved
He was thrown on a dungheap
They call a "pauper's grave"
-
The rich man had been lavish
He'd fared well every day
But he was a corporate mobster
So he had hell to pay
The poor man was redeemed of God
That is why he lost his job
He wouldn't serve up to the mob
And so his end was like a sob
He thanked God with his last breath
With grace endured ignoble death
But it had no strength to sting
The angels bore him on their wings
*Eternity in everything*
So which was the human being
Who had greatest gain?
This is an age old story
But the fact remains
The rich man saw the poor one
Again after his death
In heaven... joyous... *SINGING!
While He could not draw breath!*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/17/2016
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
You're the knight
I'm your steed
There are signs
I can't read
There are things
I can't be
The choir sings
When you see
An engagement ring
Will set me free
But you turn into a beast
And I'm your prey feast
So I hide in the crease
Between best and least
Between sinner and priest
Between molasses and grease
I hide from a monster
That looks like a lobster
Mixed with a mobster
Using a humanoid claw
To impose martial law
To avoid my small flaws
You were my Goliath of reliance
Until we collided with defiance
And I didn't know how to cope
With a lycanthrope
You're a mixture of Jackie Chan and Jackie Kennedy
You're in between human man and human centipede
You walk through the quiet land as I hide in the trees
The hourglass empties as the sand tickles like fleas
You're a monster unreal
When this way I must feel
You have the power to give or take my heart
And you've used that power from the start
You're a Tyrannosaurus rex
When you flex
You're a scarab beetle
When you're evil
The combination of the two
Is the reason my anxiety grew
You're a demon
That can ****** loneliness
You're the reason
I've become a bony mess
When I get things off my chest
To expose my organs
And you call it just fun
So I realize you're the one
From the emotions you take
And the emotions I can't fake
So meet me in the shed
And give me Pumpkinhead
To forget the blood I've bled
And the taste of mud I'm fed
So you can be my monster
I'm not worth
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
Another cold day, shouting getaway!
Blanket warm, rent saying getaway!
Getaway is written inside my fridge!
Covid-19 adverts against my rent and fridge.
Let me pull up, wear a mask like a robber.
Let me pull up at my office like a gangster.
Take care of yourself and your crack.
Think like a gangster, your business is your crack.
Mask yourself gangster and getaway.
My sanitizer is my pistol, my finger easy on the trigger.
I distance myself from a man like a mobster seeing police.
Life is all about getting the way forward (getaway)!
My sanitizer is my pistol, my finger easy on the trigger.
I distance myself from a man like a goon seeing police.
-Written By: The Senior Date undefined
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
Erik
Eruch
uh
How do you spell it?
Stephanie on the stereo
with Sophia ******
stains on the sheets
I still don't know your name is
what?
Erik
Eruch
uh
How do you spell it?
K dot
G dot
com
But there are cookies
on the paper.
Wipe up the crumbs
I thought cookies were coming
Well check you receipts.
Got a lawyer?
Got a broker?
Erik
Eruch
uh
How do you spell it?
Timothy
or timmy
No, not tommy
I'm Tim.
Sacrificing monsters, I started
as him. It. Clown. Bonkers.
Check the roster I'm no mobster. Lawless.
Flawless i'm not.
Scars on this and that
knee.
Broken shoulder I'm holding in my *** you.
S. S. Mathematical difference.
Its a distance but I will be there
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
there's a mafia don
operating on the verse's patch
if anyone ticks him off
the eraser does a fast dispatch
you'll be completely rubbed out
with an instantaneous flick
by his quick 48 revolver's
rapid fire trigger click
the Sicilian mobster
is a regular Al Capone
*clearing they who ******
at his most tactile bone
Luigi strikes fear on
issuing a list of target dots
which so irritate him in
the imprecise spots
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC
“A mobster”
“Tony Soprano”
“Something out of Grease”
“John Travolta”
“You’re gonna whack me”
“A Greaser”
“The Godfather”
“One of those actors”
“Elvis”
“Pauly D”
“A state trooper”
“A cop”
Thanks,
Want me to,
Rudely,
Randomly,
Tell you,
What YOU look like?
Nov 16, 2023
Nov 16, 2023 at 10:43 AM UTC
FACE-IT
Fix- it
Don't -force- it
* * * * *
Show- it and embrace- it
Facing a timeless jade
Old show façade
Not a test or a grade
Is it old Holiday Parade?
Old show face privacy
Confidence meet bravery
Facelift grave yard shift
* * * *
Oldster-Hipster-once
A-Youngster-Crankier
Scrooge old geezer
* * *
Old City Mobster
Old show face
Gets riskier on the run
Once young gun
Serene but sassier
Getting up earlier
New show wiser
In the right place
Old show face*
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 9:04 AM UTC
She's a new born under
protective cover,
with a shield like no other from her
umbilical Mother.
Covered from head to toe by the
artists jacket.
In clear polythene for you to admire,
not attack it.
Or the mobster paid in Lira to stop
anyone going near her,
when all that she needs
is the unconditional love
from the bosum that
feeds her.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Shoulders smooth
lips glistening
words dismissed easily
as thoughts
shine, shine, shine
diva eyes
the face plays with
expressions like
an orchestra presents
Mozart
You see me rolling
on the floor
Mr Cool Drool
in a state of the union
your puppy
your mobster
your hit man
hitting on you
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
Stress sneaked up on me
Like a ninja out of the blues
Like a saxophone player
Weaving an intricate melody
To my internal noir monologue
Like a tax collector striking at night
Or a deadly case of the Creditors flu
Like a group of cut-throat dames
Like fog in the rain
Like a secretary named Velema.
Stress sneaked up on me
When the detective came a-knocking.
He wanted his cigarette back.
I told him I didn't have it
Then the ****** walked in
Quick-finger Teddy
Butcher Saint Merry
Leg-breaker Lenny
Mobster Ricco
Snake Bently
And Marcini of the incredibly gifted hands
Too.
Lead makes a different sound when fired
Glass shatters into tinkling tear drops
Like the heavens weeping.
Plaster breaks.
Stress sneaked up on me
Like a kiss goodbye...
It's all
Smoke through the city...
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
She invited Joey
to her apartment
on the second floor
and as she opened the door
her dog came
barking along the hall
Shut up Bonaparte
she said
Go away
and the mutt walked back
with its tail
between its legs
to its basket
under the table
and she ushered Joey in
and closed the door behind her
and said
What would you like to drink?
tea coffee coke beer?
Coke will be fine
he said
and she told him
to go sit in the lounge
and once he sat down
he looked around the room
and on the small table
by the sofa where he sat
was a photograph of her
and her husband
taken on their wedding day
she dressed in white
and smiling
and he in a black suit
like a hit man
in a mobster movie
and she came in
with his coke
and set it on the table
by the sofa
and then went out again
swaying her behind
which made him smile
then she was back
with a tall glass
of white wine
and she set it down
on the table beside him
and sat down
and began talking
about the night
he had met her
and her husband
in the bar in town
and how she had invited
him over to meet her husband
and he had bought them
both a drink
and while her husband
talked to his friend
she had flirted with him
and made him laugh
and how after that
they’d all meet
on Friday evenings
in the same bar
and her husband
had invited him
to their place
to play chess
and he remembered
how he used to play chess
holding off letting
her husband win
so he could stay longer
and see her more often
and then she leaned over
to get her drink
and she put one hand
on his thigh
and reached over
for her wine
and he smelt her scent
and the brush of her hair
as she leaned over him
and having her glass
she leaned back
her hand still resting
on his thigh
and that look of mischief
burning in her eye.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 4:08 AM UTC
The other day they showed on the news a tweet by President Elect Donald J. Trump. It is a very sad situation when you have an illiterate as your newly appointed leader. It's like I told Layne Marie. It only gets it, when it is and never gets it when in possession. I know what you're thinking. This poet did the same thing when he posted poems on other sites. Yes. Guilty as charged. But, Trump didn't pay Mike Tyson to beat up you. And whenever I recover from those beatings I just might get up the nerve to do something about it. DO NOT TELL ME that this country is so ******* up that anyone running for president shouldn't have to take a literacy test. So we have now a mobster that is ignorant of the rules of grammar, leading the way. This is a very sad day. The 14th will be an even Saturday.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 1
Driving around fronting like a boss.
Feel the connection, better come correct kid.
For in the hood one is always in need of some protection.
And if ya don’t ya best watch your neck kid.
It’s all about respect kid.
So better watch your mouth kid.
Because yawl be dead if ya ever start snitching.
For If you wanna survive you just gotta be packing.
And If you wanna a meal on your plate than ya better start stealing.
Just be careful because the pigs always creeping.
Watching our houses, tapping our phones,
Every day and every weekend.
For there is no freedom in the project zone.
It’s like gulag out here man, with gangs all trying to sit on the iron porcelain throne.
But it doesn’t mean **** for the government will still be the true al capoene.
Testing out their drugs on us like we lab rats.
Using racism and propaganda to keep us on our backs.
Which makes makes me wonder why the rest of our society don’t just neuter these ***** cats?
**** But as long as...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 2
Stunting with my money like a true mob boss!
You want power?
You want respect?
You want to fly around in a purple jet?
Than ya better come correct.
I feel ya J, we gotta makes them waves.
Like a big kahuna, drinking some corona.
Coming in like a super hero to save the day.
We will be the rulers, taking out the opposition like a true mobster.
And ya might think us monsters, but we just doing what we can with this natural disaster.
That you created, ya I ain’t faded.
Opportunity for all, in this world so devastated.
From Atlanta to the bronks.
Only got one rule, which is don’t be a foolish punk.
You gotta think smart and not just rely on luck.
For every dog has its day, so be careful where you run a muck.
Just as long as you never forget...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Got that money, power, and fame like Kriss kross.
Do you got that sauce?
Does he have that sauce?
Because if you don’t, than that’s a loss.
So remember to never lose that sauce.
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
A tree has fallen,
in this world of bliss....
The black cat crawling,
among life's tricks...
A poisoned mind,
from what the media spits....
Two jet airliners,
crash brick by brick...
Jets then fly,
and people will die....
Like the burnt at the steak
Witches burnt offering breaks
Proactive earthquake
Tremors trembling late
Cleopatra's Alexander the great
Cut the road and then brakes
Dead cold hearted ache
Sleep with one eye open awake
Apocalypse last days great
Ultimately intimidating fate
I watch the story unfolds at 8:88
AM OR PM with a crate
Meanwhile I'll wait
Like mobster I'm MADE
U seen happy face
Voodoo Mardi Gras mask grace
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
Dj spinning the wheels of steel
Best lyrics I spill that send thrills
Picture perfect Picasso
Make my own moves like Carlito
Move dinero black don Vito
Keep suckas in check
So stay off my grande bicho
We turn culo into closed
Casket I'm.cold heartless ********
That's my persona
Smoke more yay then T Montana
Took a bite of the forbidden monzana
Tell these fools I don't bang
With panics only frantics
Childish antics make for required carcasses
I'm bark up the wrong trees
Rivalries I love em I'm.above em
Eight levels ahead with mad bread
Hotter than a baker
Brew up the hardest thymes
The lyrical barrister call me Mr
Big stuff Cuz my peace heavy d
Mid weight like hos who can shake
They **** looser than Jello
I'm a president never let me peoples go
Modern day pharaoh with a thorough
Of wisdoms hearts full of clay
Which means I'm cruddy no fears
Show ya real tears like when the shot gun
Enters ya body goin at 200 miles per second
I'm reluctant the only one to ever bless the mic when I recite don't try to fight
Only to meet ya fall and mobster even gall
After me butnnever touch my epitome
In the safe house with my spouse
Tucked in ya blouse
Homes!! Ya minstrel cycle leakin'
Which means ya close to shakin'
Hands with the grim reaper
Puff cabbage make the biggest clouds
Now ya resting lovely open casket
Awaiting to be covered with the shroud!!
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Thirty-five years to find just fifty
Thirty-five years to find those fifty
What did our government due
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Do the math, it's just plain silly
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Give the government it's due
You can't feel anymore. Safer?
You can't feel anymore. Safer?
You can't feel anymore. Safer?
When government gets us *******
They need a lot more time now
They need a lot more time now
Three point seven million years
To catch the other bad guys
They sit in their disguises
In a robe on courtroom benches
With their lawyer cladded henchmen
They sit in their disguises
Can you call up the police now?
Can you call up the police now?
The Chief is sitting quietly
Protecting family ties
Anybody out there? Save us!
Anybody out there? Save us!
Save our country, save our babies
Give us mob free lives
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Fifty years I've no enjoyment
I may as well just die
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
They abound this season
Flapping their wings
Blocking the sunshine
Carrying bugles and ostrich feathers,
Through their yellow teeth
The heat of yerba mate radiates
They make no distinction between
The dignitary and the mobster
Between the esteemed and the rascal
Only scarabs pass them by without reckoning
We still hear the drums in all parts of the village;
Drums made in a country not far from ours.
We are in the presence of the Holy Matron
We sanctify
Dust has settled over her garb
Having buried the phoenix,
Her children have left their houses
And some lost their direction
We strayed from one another
And the paths of the honest
Were blurred
We had our fill of worries for a thousand years
Despite the limitation of time.
Here we are at the bottom of the riverbed
And cannot row our way back to the source spring
When the day is short
So is the night.
To you Lord is my hymn and plea:
Will there be salvation,
Will it rain
Will there be sunshine
And will the birds
Flutter their wings again?
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
Imagine this man, my father or dad
Would guilt trip his children, this story's so sad
Takes half a weeks pay, waves it under their nose
Demands that we write him or the check it will go
You crazy old man, you make me so blue
Do you even remember how you made me so *******
Pay attention, a lesson I've learned, so will you
You only get back what you give, here's to you
You told me when I was a lad of thirteen
Don't come around I have other family
I don't need them getting confused nor upset
Just leave us alone, the skunk is our pet
Or how 'bout the time I was just only three
When the neighborhood mobster did ******** me
You told me "don't just sit there call up the police
But, I have to work so please excuse me"
Or how 'bout the time that along with my sister
You let that bad man take his creepy **** pictures
Sue often referred to her dad as her dooshie
And he'll never know what she baked in her cookies
You think I don't know how you spoil your son
Normy gets all he can handle of mile high fun
Fine season tickets to all sporting events
For how many years now, since he was ten
I had a neighbor, competed with me
I'm sorry I troubled you, what did I think
That you cared? That you tried? Did more than nothing?
'Cause you're old now, your children, should they be so loving?
C'mon who ya kiddin'? You had more than this comin'
You should have been locked up to protect my dear cousin
If you're all alone with no one and feel blue
What goes around finally came back to you
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
Many conspiracy theories get the connections and convolutions right. What they get wrong is the distracting end game, when the truth's so clear. Just look at the results. The rich and powerful always escape culpability, escape punishment. If the evidence proves too blatant, creating nets of legal and PR complexities keep the farce of "justice for all," while maintaining their Old World nobility.
Victorian inbreds and mobster charlatans, cutting corners and destroying civic morals, just to grab up more Earth. Soon their cheapness will became ubiquitous. They'll all end up in imploding pleasure submarines, dining on deadly raw foie gras, or barreling off a crumbling bridge in a driverless car.
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 11:51 AM UTC