Poetry

On Valentine’s

On Valentine’s, seven men stand along a brick wall.
Albert Kachellek, stands firm and tall.
Blood boiling beneath a stoic face,
The right hand determined to die with grace.

On Valentine’s, seven men stand along a brick wall.
John May, can do nothing but bawl.
Just the mechanic with a wife is his plea,
They reply with a laugh, that drips with horrid glee.

On Valentine’s, seven men stand along a brick wall.
Reinhardt Schwimmer, who the races had enthralled.
An optician with debt up to his eyes,
Accepts that he was destined for a bloody demise.

On Valentine’s, seven men stand along a brick wall.
Peter Gusenberg, whose sins could no longer be numbed by the alcohol.
Men, Women, Children. Had all felt his wrath,
Now a tired man shall pay for his odious path.

On Valentine’s, seven men stand along a brick wall.
Albert Weinshank, whose choice of coat and hat, prevented Moran’s downfall.
Capone’s hit thwarted by a similar taste in clothes,
So now Mrs Weinshank shall receive a rose.

On Valentine’s, seven men stand along a brick wall.
Adam Heyer, counts the bricks, waiting for whate’er befalls.
The bookkeeper who was happy to look the other way,
But on this day, he has been made the prey.

On Valentine’s, seven men stand along a brick wall.
Frank Gusenberg, outlasted them all.
Fourteen bullets and yet without a second thought,
When asked by police, he proclaimed he hadn’t been shot.

 

A poem about the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre. I realise that its nowhere near Valentine’s Day but I couldn’t be bothered to wait until then to post this. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments.

© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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