Best Al Capone Poems
Where Have All The Pretty Poets Gone?
A real poet are you, charismatic over everything you serve
Showcasing, a rainbow that folds the perfect worldwide perspective
I'm talking about flawless literature at its best no typos, no muss
Just a page full of boredom and rust
Thank you for having Lunesta all up in my head
It's like reading a poetry lesson, from the extras of The Walking Dead
An image frozen cold, waiting for inspiration to hit like Al Capone
I'm bored of your flora flamboyant language rocking me like stones
A psychedelic trip, into the odyssey of a blind man's tale
A home where I am pushed to open a dictionary & thesaurus with Braille
Wondering what you just said, --Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful day!
The best rocket pen poet in the USA Today,
Launching words like no tomorrow, a fool of wordplay and sorrow
A godlike guinea-pig genius, delegating poetry politician-style
Perhaps, one day you will become a famous writer
Burning books, like a cigarette lighter
Until then, enjoy pushing your pen as if it were cocaine,
Snorting up and cutting up the food chain in vain
Patronizing and ignoring those, for better or worse
A solo cup stuck up another cup, -won't even look my way
Correct me if you will, it's no big deal
Just don't forget to give me the same respect I offer you
Until then my pretty poetic friend, I kneel before no one
By: ME
5-25-14
Categories:
al capone, angel, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Gangs are here
And their here to stay
Going about their day to day
Harassing me
Harassing you
Infidels in our Human Zoo
Triads, Yakuza
The Wild West
Terrorised townsfolk
With their gangland zest
Mafia, Nizari
Guys like Al Capone
Persecuted the innocents
Never leaving them alone
Identification through various ways
Communication
Street says
Tattoos, piercings
Dressed sense too
The Gangs of our Human Zoo
Members are many
In certain cities
Victimise the weak
Pick on the pity
These are kids
Of mums and dads
What makes them
Turn out so bad
Brothers, sisters
No questions asked
Shot and knifed
A Gangland task
It makes them no better
Than you or me
We are the difference
A different sanity
Categories:
al capone, social
Form:
Rhyme
I say to you lets take a walk...to laugh...to chill...and simply talk.
Let’s start heading across the rocks...and go beneath the streets of Rome.
Let us take a break from our feet...down a path right beneath quaint streets,
This is the place where all roads meet...where I’m meaner than Al Capone,
And I could simply make this easy...but your mind will not be blown.
You’ll never see your children grown.
For I thought you was my best friend, but for now you will face your end,
You’re heading there out of your sin...to no light...no love...or cell-phones.
You’ll dwell in torment forever, birds of feather flock together,
In this hall there is no weather, the only echoes are your own,
You’ll rot in disgust and your shameful heart will always be alone.
My love for you...I will condone.
With such greed life karma prevails...and in darkness your bones’ll dwell.
Doesn’t matter how loud you yell...no one will hear that high pitched tone.
I vent all of my frustrations...without any hesitations,
After my retaliation...of this sweet revenge I will prone.
After kicking you in the face...what’s this...is it bodily foam..?
So un-brick the bricks to the dome!
And I don’t care if your legs hurt...for this is how you made it work,
You built your tomb under a church...right beneath its’ big golden throne.
Now behind the mortar you cry...and no one can bade their goodbyes.
My friend...you used to smile so wise...who smiles now as the other moans..?
You love what you can’t have...life...I’m done...revenge has proudly shone.
You’ll die behind the wall of stone.
All of your hate and jealousy...is buried with greed and envy,
You’ll fade from earth as unworthy...right beneath other dried up bones.
Here’s my remorse...wait a minute...clear my nose...on the wall I spit,
Your ego fits nicely here...I’m starting to like your new home.
I’ll let you be with a marker...that I have engraved out of chrome.
“The center of the catacombs”.
_____________________________________
The form is Trochaic Octameter
Iambic pentameter serves as the substitute.
Categories:
al capone, parody, sisterlove,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Straight-up the arrows,
hard-pressed the doors
to all the rooms
in all the houses
on Clark Street.
Father Coughlin brought blessings
thinned with broth
from potato peelings.
Women poured tears
into fringed shawls,
and buried their dead
above Dublin’s seashore,
along the banks
of the river Liffey.
Through the years,
the ghost of James Clark,
Bugsy’s brother-in-law,
pursued Al Capone
all the way to his grave.
Categories:
al capone, corruption, murder,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Alcatraz Penitentiary is located in California in San Francisco.
It became a Federal Penitentiary about eighty years ago.
Alcatraz was the prison where Al Capone was sent.
He wasn't happy about the place where he went.
Alcatraz had four wardens, they were James Johnston, Edwin Swope, Paul Madigan and Olin Blackwell.
Machine Gun Kelly, Mickey Cohen, Robert F. Stroud and many other criminals were sent to this jail.
Alcatraz is located on an island and was believed to be escape proof.
But in 1962, three men may have shown us that that wasn't the truth.
They escaped but were presumed dead but it's possible that they survived.
Their bodies were never found, nobody knows for sure if they're still alive.
Alcatraz closed in 1963 because of high maintenance costs and a poor reputation.
This wasn't a good prison to be sent to, believe me that's no exaggeration.
(This is a true story)
Categories:
al capone, people, prison,
Form:
Rhyme
Those born into a family large will know whereof I speak.
Your chances of donning the newest clothes was very, very bleak!
Alas, hand-me-downs became a tradition at our humble house.
Being at the end of the clothes chain always made me grouse!
I had the dubious honor of wearing things that were always patched.
Color coordination was out of the question since nothing ever matched!
The fedoras I wore flopped down over my very ample ears.
I resembled a tiny Al Capone, embarrassing me to tears!
The pants I wore were wrapped around me once or twice.
"You'll grow into them", said Mom. "For now they will suffice!"
The sleeves of the jackets I wore came nearly to my knees,
Making it hard to find my hands to stifle an onrushing sneeze!
The shoes I wore were usually two sizes too long and wide.
I waddled like a wounded duck with every painful stride!
The neckties I wore were of big brother's dreadful taste.
Looped around my scrawny neck, they hung well below my waist!
Teenage years flew by, a reprieve from this predicament I could see.
The guys in Air Force recruiting posters looked mighty sharp to me!
I enlisted anticipating wearing a snappy suit of Air Force blue,
Only to be issued olive drab hand-me-downs from World War Two!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
al capone, funny, me, clothes, me,
Form:
Rhyme
I am the roaring twenties
And the cotton club.
I am Al Capone and his
Thugs.
I am the rise of Joseph
Stalin.
I am the age of science
And penicillin.
I am Walt Disney and
Mickey Mouse.
I am electricity in
My house.
I am the stock market
Crash.
I am the first Academy
Award bash.
I am Miss America pageant
The first time.
I am Valentino dies reads
The headlines.
I am the great depression
Sweeps the land.
I am Lindbergh on north
Atlantic flight plan.
I am Betty Crocker and
Wonder bread.
I am the great migration
Watch me spread.
I am speakeasies and Gerber
Baby food.
I am the age of Jazz puts
You in the mood.
I am the woman's right to
Vote ,19th amendment.
I am seven-up, Coca cola's
First resentment.
Turbo1904
Categories:
al capone, history,
Form:
Rhyme
cop snout
rubbed out
inspired by Paula's contest
Categories:
al capone, funny
Form:
Light Verse
Drenched in Red, with St. Valentine
Straight-up the arrows,
hard-pressed the doors
to all the rooms
in all the houses
on Clark Street.
Father Coughlin brought blessings
thinned with broth
from potato peelings.
Women poured tears
into fringed shawls,
and buried their dead
above Dublin’s seashore,
along the banks
of the river Liffey.
Through the years,
the ghost of James Clark,
Bugsy’s brother-in-law,
pursued Al Capone
all the way to his grave.
Categories:
al capone, grave, metaphor, murder,
Form:
Free verse
Written by: D. Collins 1/5/13
If you doubled the size of medium-petite,
that would be ripe for a man like me.
I prefer a jiggle when I spank that ass.
Then watch it spring to attention, extremely fast.
Li’l-Bitty-Baby-Big-Girl has that kind of stuff.
Tools and moves to make me scream “Ooh! I’ve had enough.
She’s just the perfect size, with cushion here and there.
The kind that keeps you warm in that February air.
Li’l-Bitty-Baby-Big-Girl is the one I have to have.
The only woman with the privilege to clock my ass.
It doesn’t come through drama, it is borne from respect.
Whenever I try to go there, she brings me back in check.
She could scrape up a meal from dried noodles and a bone.
And, cover my back better than Al Capone.
So, I advise everyone, they’d better get one of them.
A Li’l-Bitty-Baby-Big-Girl turn boys into men.
Categories:
al capone, cute love, for her,
Form:
Sonnet
Put the pork-n-beans
in a big garbage can
Let the kiddies run wild
til lunchtime,
then try to reign ‘em in
Make the little bed-wetting buggers
play White castle in the sand
Find out who clogged the shower drain
and stopped up the toilet again
The Camp counselor
is looking a little addled,
even more so today
His bungling staff
let another
golden goose opportunity get away
Parents with good money
were willing to pay
extra, to keep their rowdy kids
on an extended two-week stay
But nobody was around answering the phone,
everybody was hammock gone
At Camp Run Amok,
everything is run wrong
Bugle reverie is at five in the morn,
but the cock don’t even crow
at the crack of dawn
Steve and Kelly,
Jared and Sebastian
A most inept staff crew,
who don’t get nothing done
Didn’t put up no transparent policy tents,
too stringent on the press pool rules
Mischief behavior gets praised, no denouncement
They don’t mind being treated like fools
The boss sneaks off every weekend,
tweeting dumb stuff on his cell phone
Today, he was bragging
how he don’t pay taxes like Al Capone
The bad punk rep of Camp Run Amok:
common sense ran home ...
now everything is ran wrong
Welcome to Camp Run Amok,
where everything is in disorderly disarray
The Camp counselor likes it chaotic that way;
with kids running things, having the last say
Categories:
al capone, humor, parody, political, satire,
Form:
Light Verse
If this old guy gets to Heaven one of these days
He'll surely be watching you peeps
So be advised you guys better behave yourselves
My guys will be on standby ready to straighten you out
And you surely wouldn't want that
They are called angels but don't let the name fool you
They can really be quite scary
Betcha you had no idea
You thought all angels were angelic like
These guys were once 'angels' for Al Capone
So you have been forewarned
© Jack Ellison 2014
Categories:
al capone, humorous,
Form:
Narrative
Publican politicians talk in half-price right angles
Dodge City liberty
being smoking barrel bargain sold
at a chill,
Colt-45 degrees
AC (alcoholic crops) bootleggers selling
Prohibition license to breathe
Drunken Al Capone clones
riding shotgun,
spit spraying
automatic fire taxable oppression
Seasoned Caesar bag men love to casino dangle,
dance the Charleston Charlottesville style
Beat the audit odds with one-handed guile
Then sell out citizen we with gangsta ease,
rubbing out the actuary numbers
on our license to breathe
Tricky politicians speak Publicanese,
extorted exhalation
which wafts on a fabricated breeze
Pharaoh sons got a prison labor farm
gaming system,
printing free Monopoly money
to pyramid scheme burn
Ashes from cremated capitalist leaves
market fluctuate
on a jaded, emerald breeze
Covetous Equus heads,
harnessed to paper cloud chariots,
snorting war ozone air
Trojan horses wanting Roman legion liberty,
are told ain’t nothing Spartan sold shogun free
Dodge City living dead property
ain’t got no
Colt-45 trigger zombie release
Death stench in the decaying air
is crypt coming from
inhaled depths of iron lung oxy robbers
So don’t smoking barrel bother
to try and take a dirt-free emancipated sneeze,
if you don’t have a burial license to breathe
Categories:
al capone, imagery, metaphor, perspective, truth,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
The place wair I live , is called Astro-sitty ! And I sure can tell u that this place is
Pritty ! This beautiful town is the place of my dreams .
And Moest of the kids here belong 2 the teams !
In this beautiful town , are sum gize not of earth ,
And nun but thair parents , know the dates of thair birth !
The streets here are paved with gold ! And weather controle sattellites
Mean it's never cold ! We found all the munny from al Capone,s vaults !
And all our chocolate shakes have extra malts !...
Categories:
al capone, beautiful,
Form:
Ballad
Prohibition began one hundred years ago in the USA.
People had their right to drink booze taken away.
This made people unhappy and they began to whine.
And this caused Al Capone to start peddling moonshine.
Capone was evil and because of him, people were killed.
On December 5 1933, the 18th Amendment was repealed.
People were very happy because prohibition came to an end.
They were as giddy as school girls to have the right to drink again.
Categories:
al capone, drink, history, humor,
Form:
Rhyme