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.

The Invisible Man

The Invisible Man

Is he real or is it mass hysteria?
Jewelers, traders and bank tellers
claim to have seen him in the area.
Beware you buyers and sellers.

Sixteen banks were robbed at gunpoint
all by a nobody, wearing a moustache.
Jewelers say he was casing the joint,
then thieving gold, silver and cash.

One has to wonder when your name implies,
that you are indeed, actually transparent
why you would have to wear a disguise.
That just seems incoherent.

Is it then fair, for one to conclude,
aside from the furry nose glass
that you rob the banks in the nude?
Sure a good thing we can’t see your….

I’m not sure which is better
for the front page fodder:
Are you The Invisible Swindler
or the Full Moon Marauder?

For Illustration Friday’s Topic: Moustache

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.

When Pigs Fly

“When Pigs Fly”
(The Style of a Hyper Race Announcer)

And here we go folks, the final lap!
In the lead is It’s A Trap.
Oh Hell Yes is in second place,
Is This Rigged? will make this a close race.

Who’s The Boss is trampling past Paid Off,
making it uncomfortable for To The Left And Cough.
Oh folks! Your Mama Can’t Dance,
you better believe, here comes Fat Chance.

Bringing up the back we got Sleeps With Fishes,
Put those hands together, You Got Three Wishes.
Hope you didn’t put your money on this last guy
slogging behind is When Pigs Fly.

Betting odds are eight hundred to one,
 When Pigs Fly is surely done!
But wait, what’s this, it cannot be!
Your Mama Can’t Dance, she’s got a broken knee!

When Pigs Fly, he Got Three Wishes,
Past Chance, Cough, and Sleeps With Fishes!
This is crazy, it’s the pony express!
Is This Rigged?, Oh Hell Yes!

Can You believe it, eight hundred to one?
Can you believe that jockey just won?
Someone is rich, and now many will cry.
Man oh man, When Pigs Fly.

“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?

Kirk Robin

Kirk Robin

(In the style of an interrogation)

Who killed Kirk Robin? I, said Harold “The Head”
I bashed him, bashed him dead. I killed Kirk Robin

Who saw him die? I, said “Fraidy” Freddy.
Wait, not Again, I’m not ready. Nevermind, I didn’t see him die.

Who’ll be the clerk? I, said Detective Burkes.
If I don’t have to work, I’ll be the clerk.

Who’ll sing the psalm? We, said the Quartet of three.
We’ll sing it beneath the willow tree.We will sing the psalm.

Who will dig the grave? I, said the “Rat”.
In my grave digger hat.  I will dig the grave.

(Bridge)

Wait, is he alive? I think I saw that greaser drive!

I saw him, I did, unless that was “Sidecar” Sid.

So is he alive, or is he dead?  Were you lying, Harold “The Head”?

(Closing)

Who knows Kirk Robin?
I, said the Ghost.
He’s toast.
I know Kirk Robin.

Rhett Stetson

Rhett Stetson

(In the style of a folk ballad story)

Once you leave town and head to the west
You best know you’re puttin’, life to the test.
Crossing over, the highway nine
deep in the country, past the pines.
Watch out boys, when you hear that gun,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson.

Ain’t no laws, ain’t no rules,
do as he says, son, don’t be a fool.
Give him yer cash, give her liquor,
or you’ll be gone, quicker than a flicker.
Once he’s done here, get on the run,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson.

Pay up the toll for crossing his road,
hell, just for bein’ in his postal code.
open the trunk, better let him inspect,
is there anything he’d like to collect?
Alright, oh-kay, we’re almost done,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson.

You can cry, whelp, even harangue
but at the end of the day, he took every-thang.
Now, don’t you think to try and tattle,
he’s got all them cops, rounded up like cattle.
Alright git goin’, ride to the sun,
fore you just met, Rhett Stetson