Paddy was a hit man
for the Irish Mob
hired to be slick
and do a whack job
but he didn't have the knack
or know the trick
without being caught
and put in the nick
behind bars
but not the sort one might think
where a few jars
may be bought and he did so love a drink
more than one too many
was his undoing
the cause of all
the troubles brewing
and with only one hit
it's really no wonder
he was fired from the gang
for a drunken blunder
as he couldn't quit the whiskey
be it bottle or a flagon
and ended up inside
not on the wagon
Categories:
hit man, drink, fun, humorous, prison,
Form: Rhyme
"Who had this booby trap set?"
Asked the hit man quite upset
But flashing a borrowed smile
He could take to some one mile.
Later, what seemed a child's grin,
Once very rich, now as thin...
It's clear Charles would some cheek slap
Or a head hit or a cap:
Charles' little luck with good clue
Could him to a lone spot glue,
Each movement a quest for proof,
Still luckless just hit the roof!
Certain now he'll Hill's cheeks slap,
Now with zest closing their gap:
What long frustration could do:
Up men would begin to screw.
Categories:
hit man, allusion, anger, bullying, cry,
Form: Rhyme
Life is short, use it
Grow love, bit by bit
We can
In staid stillness sit
Bliss is soul’s summit
Heart scan
When head and heart fit
Lamp of love is lit
Oh man
Fear is the hit man
But if we’re dead pan
Light glows
Joy is our game plan
Conscience the helmsman
Love grows
None more, none less than
We are all one clan
Heart knows
From head to our toes
Rapturous bliss throes
Fills form
Love’s the debt soul owes
Fragrant like a rose
Be warm
Holding all souls close
It’s time we dispose
Lust storm
15-March-2023
Categories:
hit man, joy, love, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
England And Germany
Twin sides of the same coin
Light and dark the game's the same
Two soldiers doing the same job
Both would be mortal enemies
Yet their stories are the same
On a certain type of mission
Getting the same result
Like it's a scripted storyline
The hit man and the cop
Telling exactly the same story
Each eradicating the rapist
Not a tale I made up but real
Or so they say to me
What do you think?
SELL OUT Nick Armbrister new book out soon
Categories:
hit man, analogy, business, culture, imagery,
Form: Blank verse
The things we replenish,
Before they finish
First of all diminish…
They don’t really vanish
Like in the stories we varnish:
And with it The Truth punish…
The nice savored dish
Chefs superbly garnish,
Not forgetting to be stylish,
We demolish fast
And cause give to not last:
A–Once-Obvious like Steely Mast.
Still, it doesn’t vanish
What progresses to a finish:
My tea ever always British
My potatoes all the time Irish
On this to challenge A Danish
Scottish or even the Finnish…
Dying leaves not swiftly brownish
Nor the hit man, suddenly womanish.
Categories:
hit man, analogy, education, food, people,
Form: Rhyme
We each have a pistol and ammo
Issued by the company
Goes with the job for life
Only way out natural death or suicide
Take your pick you’re here now
Categories:
hit man, america, journey, murder,
Form: Blank verse
Unholy Gunman
A change in shift time 2 hours earlier means just that
Less sleep and broken rest feel like a ing dead dog
Oh my ing Satan help heal my wounded body!
How can I feel like this and be alive it’s so wrong
But not to worry I’ve a job to do and do it I will
They pay me peanuts and treat me like a monkey
On the bars I will swing and put on a show
Time to fire up the moped and go and kill
Got my 45 ready to plug some people a lot!
Bigger body count the better Devil pays me well
Being tired makes me numb not slow as I’m fast
I can do a karate bout without 3 days sleep
Riding a moped and randomly shooting is easy
Each shot a kill maybe Lucifer aims for me?
Anyhow I got 4 kills today all random and dead
They’ll never catch me you notice me later
When I’ve gone I had blond hair when it’s black
Me the Unholy gun man with little sleep
Out there doing my job so my boss gets his souls
I’ll sleep a little better today as I got 4 kills…
Categories:
hit man, angst, anxiety, crazy, death,
Form: Blank verse
The Q Man
The Q Man was somebody who was different
He travelled the galaxies and universe doing a job
Flying a Type 6 spaceship interstellar style
Normal space travel took forever and a day
But his ship was a souped one off
With engine and fuel enhancements
Zipping from world to world to work
He lands in a remote place and hides
His pointed ship from observers or spies
And hikes to his location to do the job
The tool of his trade is a long range rifle
Made on Planet Earth three millennia ago
It’s fitted with modified 7. 62mm bullets
These kill every single life form from a mile
On normal blood and body organisms
Normal explosive bullets do the job
With insect like ones with an armoured body
Armour piercing acid bullets eradicate them
He has 3002 different bullet types to use
Each one killing a designated target
The contract killer with no home
Except between the stars in his ship
Living for a dozen centuries extendable
You don’t want to mess with him
Nor be on his kill list as you’re ed
Zapped by an old skool high tech bullet
Fired by the best assassin there ever was
The Q Man and his rifle always on call
Categories:
hit man, space, technology, voyage, war,
Form: Blank verse
Nobody ever forgets where he buried the hatchet. ~ Kin Hubbard
Riley was a control freak
barking orders at his wife
who'd scurry like a timid mouse
knowing if she didn't conform
a barrage of blows would rain down on her body
Of course, he made certain
not to mar her pretty face -
he needed her to look good
when she collected
his beer from the local store
leaving home at the same time every day
she was always back within the hour
But...unbeknownst to Riley
his wife Lou had caught the eye
of Sid the store keeper
they would steal passionate kisses
on his coffee break
which coincided with her visits
Sid knew her life was unbearable
and secretly he hired a hit man
to do the deed when Lou was out shopping
Riley was felled with one blow….
Nobody ever forgets where the hitman buried the hatchet!
Quotable Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
10/18/20
Categories:
hit man, abuse,
Form: Free verse
'Twas the night before Christmas and impeachment was in the air
Trump kept tweeting that it was unfair
The truth had come out, but he continued to lie
But Moscow Mitch assured him that victory was nigh
But then Pence started to grin
Hoping for the moment when he would be sworn in
Somehow he knew that the Prez was a crook
Who never did anything by the book
Giuliani the grinch was the Christmas 'hit man'
So Trump gave the order and Christmas was banned
They arrested Santa and read him his rights
So Santa was grounded unable to take flight
Then Trump decided to break away
So he took off on Santa's sleigh
He rode around Washington saying Ho ho ho
Telling everyone No quid pro quo!
12-13-19
Categories:
hit man, christmas, political,
Form: Rhyme
You don’t wanna meet Joey Fatone
He’s a Jersey Devil
with a Tasmanian attitude
Street whispers say,
“Baby” is a notch below
asylum certifiable
A wise guy, gator gait bad to the bone
Known to go postal ... jungle level
Joey loves giving dirt naps,
so don’t keep the short talk too long
Lives Cajun mean dirty down low in the Big Easy,
made Papa Justify give him the Skeleton Key
Stay behind the yellow line ... don’t cross the “Baby”
Always traveled light: Ruby and a burner phone
The Devil adored his metallic Black widow
Mixing business with pleasure was money fun to do
Fatone’s fist: shook rattle them numbered bones;
what you didn’t say, he never wanted to know
Best hit man for hire ... won’t pay the cleaner bill too
You don’t wanna meet Bobby Falcone
He’s a Bowery Hell’s Angel
with a Transylvanian diablo attitude ...
Categories:
hit man, dark, death, evil, violence,
Form: Burlesque
Cameras snap on the last action tourists trap
As shutters flash, bullets fly by respectfully
Go past Sunday services at high velocity
Stain glass windows stay intact
Some one falls from the high church tower
Assisted by gravity, a force of nature at work
A push out a window from a stranger works as well
Even better, since it brings a man to his senses
In a splat, a stain on the pavement
Obsequious to that end to make a mark
On the square, over a glass of cold fresh brew
A hit man, this time, does not miss his mark
The story, like the beer, is delicious this time of year
Robbery is also good to attract new business
Loaded guns must bow to authority
To conduct commerce on the streets
Ammo leaves chambers only by permission
Empty, safe and sound as ordinances intend
Approved by law enforcement
There is no end to city limits
Tourists are the center of attraction
Our aim is to aim at them
Credit the Chamber of Commerce
They do business the old fashioned way
At the end of the barrel of a gun
Emptied chambers make more profits
Bullets don't pay taxes
Categories:
hit man, abuse, appreciation, business, conflict,
Form: Free verse
Cameras snap the last actions as tourists flash
Bullets fly by at respective velocities in streets
As dark humor goes out the window in Bruges
Some one falls from the high church tower
Assisted by gravity, a force of nature works well
A push from a stranger works even better
To bring him to his senses, obsequious to that end
A splat, a stain on the pavement below, where else
On the square, over a glass, a sampling of fresh brew
A hit man, this time, does not miss his mark
The story, like the beer, is delicious this time of year
Authors Note: The film named “In Bruges” (Who would do such a thing?) is a gem of a movie.
Colin Farrell, (eye brows and all), stars with Brendan Gleeson and Ralph Fiennes. A must see.
Categories:
hit man, appreciation, celebrity, conflict, dark,
Form: Free verse
Love is what it is
Like a baby, well nourished it grows
The eye is the sole instigator
Falling for something the heart beholds
Space and time find no compromise
That gradually feed the ego
With the green eye monster at controls
For heaven sake, aren't we humans?
Jealousy is an unmasked hit man
Flaring in all directions of life
Categories:
hit man, jealousy, love hurts,
Form: Couplet
War is a sickness that kills one by one,
you never know it's coming until - BAM!
It will sneak up on you like a hit man,
and it makes sure to take your only son.
When I think about what they could have done
to stop this madness before it began,
my thoughts are of preaching's from a wise Man
named Jesus Christ, only begotten Son.
He talks of forgiveness and being meek,
to always show kindness to thy neighbor.
Even if they aren't worthy of your time,
still, you must love and turn the other cheek.
Don't be too weary of all your labor,
that you are willing to commit a crime.
Categories:
hit man, god, jesus, war,
Form: Italian Sonnet
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