B.B. Booker

B.B. Booker

It’s no science, but rather an art
adjusting figures to give a head start
zero here and there
and a few grand to spare
but his tactics, he’ll never impart.

The books he’ll carefully revise
so the tax man is no more the wise
through the books, he pores
some ones are now fours
the illegal, is now legalized

the accounting is clean front to back
and better yet, it’s impossible to track
the figures improved
a page is removed
and like that, from the red to the black.

Duke

Guest Artist: Eduardo Vieira

We are excited to feature the amazing work of Eduardo Vieira on The Daily Mobster. He has generously supplied more than one mobster of his own design, so stay tuned for the continuing story that unfolds between his characters. If you haven’t found him already be sure to find him on Instagram, Blogger, Facebook, YouTube, or Twitter.

Duke

The king, the boss, Don of the east end.

He’s a devil in disguise, and no one’s friend.

Nothing gets by him; everyone gets harassed,

Duke’s not someone to meet at breakfast.

He does what he wants and takes what he needs,

nearly the whole town is down on their knees.

There is one person that stands in his path,

Smiley Carlo, fights back to his wrath.

No need to be a genius, see what Duke wants most:

Wipe Carlo off the map of the east side coast.

Back and forth, the two wage war,

Gaining territory, door by door.

Illustration and story idea by Eduardo Vieira

Writing/Rhyming by The Daily Mobster

“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

Lew Gordon

Lew Gordon: Private Eye
(In the style of a film noir limerick)

He hides behind the tree in the park,
lurks in the shadows and the dark,
following at night,
he stays out of sight,
and he never even leaves a mark.

He’s become the master of disguise,
the privatest of private eyes.
Quick-change like chameleon,
speaks Italian and Korean.
The silent, slickest spy of spies.

Sewing trenchcoats to fit in,
of wallpaper, wood or tin,
hides in the fog,
or dressed as a dog
he has even painted his skin.

So when you feel someone’s  in your midst
know that Lew Gordon exists.
It’s not a mirage,
he’s in camouflage,
And now you’re on his watch list.

“The Barman”

“The Barman”

Coming into town from far around,
all the folks, both clean and sleazy,
Barman, pour another round!
This is a speakeasy, so shhh, speak easy.

Hope you know the password here,
don’t form any lines outside.
Wines, spirits, tonics, beers,
but only if you can get inside.

The bouncer, bar tender, the cigarette vendor,
he’s a one stop libations compound.
When laws are passed that make him an offender,
they take their operation underground.

So drink and be merry, but no need to riot
so check your weapons at the door.
Enjoy, but speak easy, so keep it quiet.
Psst, Barman, can I have another pour?

Frau Katze

Frau Katze
(In the style of a Hogan’s Hero)

As ze mob takes over ze city,
up pops a defense committee.
in spite of ze smite, zey take up ze fight,
und vow to show zem no pity.

Hauser Street is ze old lady’s club,
Watch out! Get down! Hind ze shrub!
She’s a pouncing cougar, ready with her Luger,
find another way home from ze pub.

Ze members of ze group all have cats,
wartime weapons, outfits und hats.
Dressed to ze nines, on ze front lines,
defending zeir houses und flats.

Ze Katze Club moves in on ze land,
it’s going according to plan.
When no one is home, zey sack it like Rome,
Six blocks are back in command.

When mobsters just can’t be coerced,
zey know how to make zem disperse.
Zey get zem all sick, brats laced with arsenic,
death by sausage, oh, it’s ze wurst.

Zey won’t rest till ze town is at ease,
and ze city is ridded of sleaze.
Till zen zey strap on ze heat, and hit ze street,
a new meaning to crazy cat ladies.

The Operator

The Operator

(In the eye-rolling style of one-liners)

Just remember, she knows everyone’s business
Even if there is a busy-ness signal.

She once butted in on Judge Atticus‘ secret Birthday.
She used the party line.

The Operator has known the Judge’s schemes for a long time.
He’s a real phone-y.

The Mayor called from bed, under his sheets, to connect to his lawyer!
She thought it was a real cover up.

She’s been hearing the butcher, Little Bobby‘s voice for so long,
It was good to finally meat him.

Sometimes they struggle to repair the lines that Sue Spence damages,
it really gets down to the wire.

She even knew what kind of pants “Legs” LaVine wore,
Bell-bottoms, oh, but of course.

She hates calls from the barbers, Barry, Benny and Timmy,
They always cut her short.

Don’t get a snappy tone with her like “Snappy” Walker,
or you just might get a dial tone.

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.

Dapper Dom

Dapper Dominic

Dom, Dom, so clean and dapper,

tall and strong, quite the strapper.

Pinstripe pants and wingtip shoes,

listens to jazz, rhythm and blues.

Dom is always so clean and proper,

and often accused of being a copper.

But the man in the shadows, looking quite dandy

is pulling the strings while sipping his brandy.

The rats are all buttoned, the cops are tied down,

Dom’s hands are quite vested in all of this town.

Don’t let him fool you with charisma and charm,

his cunning and craft should throw an alarm.

Leo Black

The 50th Mobster!

Leo Black

(In the style of a 1930s Jim Croce)

Drive in his car, he’ll play the guitar,

sit right back and he’ll sing you a track.

Grumpy, frumpy, old and lumpy,

this big boss is Leo Black.

Shrewd, crude and rather rude,

he controls the land, south of the track.

Joking, smoking, always provoking

everyone from the river and back.

There was a sighting, which incited fighting,

when I got lost and found Mickey Mac.

Chaw was smacking, knuckles cracking,

I said, “Hey, Mac, cut me some slack.”

Mac grinned in the wind, and I was pinned

“Hey, I’m just a kid, and they call me Jack.”

Down on the ground, in the wrong part of town,

I needed something to stop this attack.

Black came out from my car, with my guitar,

Mac looked at him crazy, as he began to unpack.

“What’s with the case, gonna sing us a song?”

The boys came at Black to give him flak.

Then the boys all fled, away from the lead,

shooting from the case, clack clack clack!

Leo Black may be mad and real bad,

I’m just glad Black had my back.