Best Mafia Poems
breakfast with the mafia
an early burbs Thursday
we watch them through the window
trying to figure out what they're saying
eating their new york bagels
while they plan and plot
we are watching for drive bys
making sure we know when to drop
one looks like Jr Soprano
he gets out of his chauffered car
we are guessing they're all packing
at least their bodyguards are
we wonder who's gonna get hit today
whose day's just might be numbered
we're glad that they don't know us
we don't have to be encumbered
the underworld is thriving
by the looks of this tight clan
they silence the moment someone walks by
so they don't overhear their plans
we hurry with our coffee
before Tony Soprano arrives
we just want to leave here
while we're still alive
Frances Albert Sinatra
Was said to have ties to the mafia
Backstage bullets flew as old blue eyes crooned
Gangsters fell as their gun molls swooned
Entry for Catie Lindsay's Clerihew Contest
The mafia is like a hemorrhoid:
-Both absolutely no use
-Both put the squeeze on their victim
- and both are a pain in the anus!!
Poet heads up note: This poem is rated pg for some violence.
Born into a mafia family,
with his umbilical cord in a knot,
he took his first breath
as his Mom lay on the cot,
his Dad was big, tough and burly,
while his new son
who they called Don
was very small and squirrely,
and most definitely a runt,
As a teenager he tried
to be tough and to please,
his glasses falling off
every time he sneezed,
Going into his room
to get buffed up and get muscles,
his 90 lb. frame couldn't take it,
and just like at the sight of blood,
he almost always fainted,
His friend Andy at school
knew Don was always funny,
trying to protect him
from the bullies taking his lunch
and giving him swirlies,
Easily intimidated, nervous and shy
he'd be at the shooting range
and always miss the bullseye,
Going with his Dad,
on drive-by mafia shootings,
his gun shaking so bad,
he thought he was going to lose it,
So his Dad gave him a switchblade
to cut peoples throats with,
which he kept hidden well in his coat,
but the only courage he could muster up,
was the vomit from his throat,
As much as Don tried,
his Dad knew his son was yellow,
he'd never be like him,
a wise guy or a goodfellow,
so Don left the family business,
and took a bus out to Hollywood,
he didn't miss murdering in the least,
or the miserable mafia neighborhood,
so now he's famous to say the least,
especially with the little kids,
and currently stars in the sitcom,
"the shakiest gun in the east."
Sahafat kar magar asool Kay Saath,,
Baran baran crore Kay bunglay na bana,,
Qatil group Kay khilaf awaaz to utha,,
Haq Sach ko jhoot say na Mila....
Note.syed iqrar ul hassan shame on you....
(Mothers & Fathers Of Italian Americans),
Out of desperation one usurps their stead;
Picking up its broken pieces from the fragments of their head
I'm going to make you an offer you won't refuse
Shackled from philisophy's that scream choose
Still meet my old friend,
Fist full of lead with bloody hand
Give me some time to contemplate & understand
To survive in the streets getting shot hero's bleed
Timely tune leaving soon shadows sleet
Keep your friends close & enemies that much closer
Throw a rope around your head no bend over
No neck Jimmy with his friend Uncle Tony
With words in untimely exposed ravioli
Not to mention cooking the stramboli;
MAFIA
Shades of dark rivers bend
Nine at head now your dead
Big trunk to dunk that flunk
A special olive stirred with straight up Tom Collins
A wandering crowd with a special promise
Two tone Jimmy was the lady's thing got the sell that every lady needs
9 at head by dock at noon then sorrow had bled
Struggled to refrain from the slice on the blade
A clear taste of viable solution
MAFIA
Blank shells buzz to bells living hell
Crown of gold jewels explode truth untold
Now you will do as you are told until the very rights to you are sold
Through a barrage of steps new episodes...
Two kanuck's suited up best fresh out of Jersey;
Brevity
Shattered glass
Yet its all fair to say no one ever gets by on any free pass!
In the 1920's labor had fights
Employers hired toughs, both sides ignored rights
Unions hired the Mafia, thought they’d be strong
The tactic was effective, but unwise and wrong.
The Mafia knew that beggars can’t choose
They made an offer the unions could not refuse
Took over, raided wages, extorted the boss
They made the gain, the workers the loss
In Mexico, cartels own a third of the land
Don’t run for office, you might die by their hand
In Russia and China, rulers solidify Mafia ties
Crime helps rulers, and liberty dies.
Cash for the ruthless, recently in the news
Iran paid European Mafias to kill Europe’s Jews
There's no stopping the wicked, they endlessly reach
These warning verses are but a stone on a beach
Your profile may be low, so you see no cause to arm
But get in their way, and then comes the harm
To take an example, I read this to my alarm
Not far from me, Hudson valley, bodies hidden in a farm.
Any tech that helps, bad guys seize the chance.
Like a drug that puts victims in a spellbound trance
That drug: 'devil's breath', will severely confuse.
So it and other drugs Columbia Mafia’s use
From the danger buffet, you can take your pick
Bad guys don't have to kill, they can make you sick
Harmful drugs aerosolized, blown to a face
Your life derailed, a crime with no trace.
So, the picture is this
Governments and Mafias give each other a kiss
Technology for both, that can control you
What a brave new world, nothing we can do.
I have lost faith love and respect for the institutions
We should have the grit to face our negative image
I am saddened by what is happening today
Why do agencies support elite class mafia?
I am extremely disappointed by intelligence
What they are doing is condemnable
I have lost faith in Judicial System
Guardians and protectors are foes.
Gulam thay gulam hain
Supari kay gulam hain..
The Religious Mafia.
There was a great tragedy in a small town many children killed
and there was great sorrow. Then the Jesus brigade descended
telling shocked and grieving parents to pray…for what? And hope,
hope for what? These men, in suits and moist handshakes,
hugging everyone… and talking nonsense about God´s forgiveness
and everlasting love. If that was the case what is the forgiving for?
The pastors are telling people what god or his son want, how do they
know do have they a direct contact with the creator?
No, of course not, they are blinding the parents with prattle, asking
them to donate to their church, naturally, so they can all be saved.
It is all about money, financial gains, these people are worse than
automatic guns, which they, no doubt indorse, it is what god want. No?
You and Police and execution Plan
Aren't you belong to the same Clan
Target killing and fake encounters
Ransom and extortion money
This is not funny..
So many people
So many backgrounds
So many personalities
So many in one place
They come
They go
They visit
Some need help
Some need to talk
Some just listen
Some are old timers
Some are newbies
They travel and hike
They stay where they like
Some have destinations
Some just don’t
There are men
There are women
A few are old ones
A few young ones
A few in the middle
Some are phat
Some are skinny
Some have nothing
Some have something
Some have everything
But everything is nothing
And nothing is everything
Do you know what I mean by this
So many have fun
Some are alcoholics and/or addicts
Some are just sober individuals
Some are just in recovery
P.S. this poem is not insulting anyone for anything.
This poem is just simple observations of the
After escaping the amish clan
and returning back home,
looked like someone followed me
a peculiar looking man,
seemed like everywhere
I'd go he'd be right there,
like something out of a
stalking amish mafia nightmare,
he was kind of short
and of course wore the standard beard,
but his face resembled the face
of actor Al Pacino,
one day I decided I'd better
change my look or go incognito,
so donned a long blonde wig
and started wearing "falsies,"
changed my clothes style
to more country western,
and still not feeling secure
moved up to Tennessee
where I'd feel more at ease
and settled in the Smokies,
one day was walking around
and shopping at a local store,
when people started staring
and flocking around me,
started feeling once again
like another bad dream,
almost started running and
started sweating profusely,
when all of a sudden they asked me
can I have your autograph Dolly
and could you sing "Islands in the Stream?"
Deadly greed allows mafia
leaders to fake their deaths
and impersonate my deceased
father born 1942 why old
disagreement’s unfinished
bribes payoffs bleeding the
life out of fallen officers sigh
for the giving pray for the
souls of the silent beings
when knights of Columbus
closes empty coffins creating
hell on earth for the public
puppeteers awaiting the
puppet masters cue from
above dirt my prayers are
with all the Gargano family
members forces to mourn
empty graves in public while
mafia members pass envelopes
around city officials break rooms
Honor doesn’t come from poking
your finger and burning a photo
of a saint it comes from respecting
honoring all who served and still
serving Stop organized crime bullies
left over garbage from Frank
the bomber Balistieri I will never
fear your bullying intimidation
I am unashamed I wore wires
pregnant for the Fbi buying
weapons and drugs from junk
sick cops selling drugs for
the Gargano crime family over
looking black town fort Myers
Florida Andersen avenue
THE MAFIA MUSICIANS
On the sidewalk half a dozen swarthy men from Italy,
Playing foot-tapping dance music
With lots of clarinettes and violins.
Black moustaches and over-long hair
And dark fedoras at jaunty angles, with
Half-smiles all the time,
Switched from one tune to the next,
Without losing the beat.
Like stage-Italian characters, suntanned
With their black suits and Mafia hats,
They were happy to pose momentarlily
While people took snaps.
No hint of loss of rhythm -
I’m sure you know the sort
Of tune they were playing,
Very Italian, very foot-tapping
Polka-esque.
People watching showed their appreciation
By throwing coins into the many empty hats
On the sidewalks nearby.
Police eyeing them circumspectly yet closely,
Half expecting the violin cases
To contain instruments more lethal.
He took a plane to Rapid City
Hoped the bike trip would be pretty
Took a cab to where the trail began—
He had the spark of a younger man.
Next day he cycled on the Mickelson Trail
Though he knew he was in a moving jail
Higher ups told us he must be kept down
If left alone, he'd gain a crown.
It wasn't fair that he be free
Breathing pure air, loving scenery
He had dissed our people, defied our creed
His attitude offended, more than his deed
We tracked him down, he had to fail
No free pass on the Mickelson Trail
No free bird, flying into the sky
We clip the wings of those who defy.
He got to a valley so pretty and green
I looked at his joy, I felt it obscene
In Buffalo land, I brought him low
No escaping our rules, no letting go.
Know that webs exist of every kind
You don't see the cords, but still they bind
Trip a wire, that's it for you
They don't care for your excuses, you can't argue
The cops won’t shield you, won’t take your side,
Your story ignored, or your story denied.
You’ve crossed a border few understand—
You're hunted now in Mafia Land.
There was a fellow with a note pinned to his chest
He lay in the street, the knife through his vest
He had offended a religion, but others die too
like a reporter who exposed crimes ugly but true.
So keep your head down, and try to conform
There are penalties if you stray from the norm
You walk a shaky bridge over a steep drop
Don't expect a parachute, not an angel, not a cop.