Frank “Flat Top” Stein

Frank “Flat Top” Stein

Somewhere between midnight and morning
lurks a looming, lumbering giant.
Following a noise that cannot escape,
to the sound, he creeps, so reliant.

Searching the night for the music he hears,
he won’t stop ’till he puts it to rest.
Pounding the things that gets in his way,
not level-headed, and far too obsessed.

The musical murderer has arrived.
Yes! Yes! It’s alive!

Is he a man or is he monster?
He has hardly a brain in that head.
But one thing’s for sure, he’s an angry one,
watch out, or soon you’ll be dead.

Don’t sing, and certainly don’t hum
hide, run for cover, quick get in.
One thing’s for sure, don’t sit by the well,
and never, play violin.

The musical murderer has arrived.
Yes! Yes! It’s alive!

The rumor ’bout him is quite grimm.
They say that a mad man built him,
from bits and parts that they stole from the morgue.
Put in a brain, and stitched on his limbs.

No matter the story, just beware.
His face is all over the news.
If you see him, report him, and try to thwart him,
his sanity’s only held on by screws.

The musical murderer has arrived.
Yes! Yes! It’s alive!

“Duct Tape” Dave

“Duct Tape” Dave

Well, well, well, what do you know.

All wrapped up with nowhere to go.

Just like your brother, you just had that itch

a secret, a story, you just had to snitch.

Getting so chummy with the cops, you dummy,

got you all wrapped up like a scummy old mummy.

Unfortunate for you, it’s Halloween,

so you’ll go unnoticed, virtually unseen.

Kids with candy, laughing, wide eyed,

stare back at your eyes, mummified.

Go ahead, just try to escape,

walking is hard when you’re wrapped up in tape.

The next time you go and try to confess,

we’ll run you through the embalming process.

Illustration Friday‘s: Entangled

Baron Samedi

Baron Samedi

The mysterious member of the magical mob,
the dealer of deeds, the seller of souls.
For when business gets dark and a real nasty job,
burn the incense, the sacrifice on coals.

Just hoo doo you think you are
in that vest, oh so tweedy?
What voodoo do you do, underneath the star?
Watch out for Baron Samedi.

If you are willing, with him, to confide,
he’s in it to win it, just show what you will sell.
Your target will be ushered, to the other side
and you’ll be, forever,  indebted to his spell.

Just hoo doo you think you are
greedy, making deals so seedy?
What voodoo do you do, underneath the star?
Watch out you Baron Samedi.

Candy Cane Jane

Jane “Candy” Cane

(In the cautionary style of Rod Serling)

Sweet and sassy is lovely Mrs. Cane.

She lives with “The Candyman” on Candy Cane Lane.

Dressed to the nines in her striped bow and hat,

but quieter than an alley cat and slyer than a rat.

Strolling round town, like she hasn’t a care

then off to her house, “visitor beware.”

The windows are pink and the doors are all white,

but don’t let the paint cover up the dark fright.

All of the rooflines are deckled and shaped,

seems no one goes in who has ever escaped.

The warm glowing lights are a dainty facade,

for this “sweet” couple is terrible odd.

Some say they’re mobsters, and others say it not,

I’d suggest stay away, whatever you thought.

The Ghost of Jacob Mobster

The Ghost of Jacob Mobster

(In the style of a pompous Englishman)

Chains were rattling, on Christmas Eve night.

A ghost was to come and give quite a fright.

Carrying the weight for all of his crimes,

punished as a ghost, forever, all times.

To warn all the crooks, thieves and burg-lars.

and tell the story of a life behind bars.

Screaming, wailing, crying in the street,

hoping that no one would be his repeat.

No robbing, no stealing, extortion no more,

or pain and suffering would be in store.

While families all gather, in peace for one night

a repentant reminder, he’s just out of sight.

While Santa brings gifts to good kids on his list,

Jacob clutches the naughties, tight in his fist.

His chains are dragging, marking the snow,

to remind us, he came, he hopes we all know.

“Lucky” Greene

Happy Early St. Patrick’s Day.

“Lucky” Greene

The given name to “Lucky” was Chance.

Ironic, consider his finance.

He rolls out the dice,

the house pays the price,

And “Lucky” does a jig of a dance.

It’s strange “Lucky” is his nick name.

As luck did not for his fame.

It’s just in logistics,

he figures statistics,

and magically wins every game.

“Lucky” ran, left his winnings behind,

But what made him change up his mind?

The house took no loss,

he was caught by the Boss,

for playing his five of a kind.

Quincy Pid

Quincy Pid

Q. Pid seems to think he is a living incarnation of Eros.

He is either a complete genius for rigging up a Tommy gun

to fire handmade, custom carved, golden arrows or

Quincy is completely crazy for attempting to fly by

the wings of his bowler hat while leaping off buildings.

Today is his day, or at least he will try to make his day.

Keep an eye on the skies for chubby, flying, arrow-shooting UFOs.

Quincy is trying to give a new meaning to

the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre.

He has got plenty to go around, so whether you

want one or not, he’s coming for you.

Expect to hear about Q in the morning paper,

for what, is yet to be seen.

Nicky “Necktie” Bambino

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Nicky “Necktie” Bambino

Just in time for the New Year party,

Nicky breaks out the finest threads.

He has striped ties, black ones, white ones, too.

But just what is up with that head?

Black and white ones, and polka dot ties.

He’s the schnazziest guy in the town.

Unfortunately, he also happens to look like a necktie.

He tries not to let that get him down.

He’s easy to find when looking in a crowd,

Imagine what he says to a blind date.

All the tailors struggle to dress him,

He brings a new meaning to the figure eight.

Sammy “Santa The Sneak”

Sammy “Santa The Sneak”

Twas the night before Christmas and in every home

crept and long lanky santa who would lurk and would roam.

His beard was just dangled from his ears by some string

in hopes no alarm would chime or would ring.

In one hand a crowbar to pry and to pop

and a sack to nab, to steal and to “shop”.

Down through the chimney Sammy slips and would slide

and out through the door with pride in his stride.

On latches, on locks, on alarms and on chains

or naught will be left of the Christmas remains.

Families and children will ask, “But Why?”

Oh Sammy Santa, what a terrible guy.