Crime – R.K. Lightfoot

Poetry

Painted in his Past

Aug 25, 2022 lefthandwriter99

Stripped before the Vor, and sitting in a chair

My life story put before them, laid bare

The Cross on my chest, represents no religious affliction

No, the Thieves’ Cross represents my conviction

The hooded figure, a mark that makes me grin

A cherished reminder that I’ve killed kin

Madonna with child, indicates the cell as my home

Ships with full sails, say I steal when I roam

The white cross on black, is marked on my hand

Time spent in solitary, is denoted by that brand

Medals display my contempt for authority

These painted marks, display my superiority

Without them, I’d be invisible to the Vor

In this life you are your tattoos, and nothing more

Pleased with the story, they mark my shoulders and knees

Now armed with eight-pointed stars, I hold the underworld’s keys

All those that opposed me, now turn heel and run

For these stars denote, that I kneel for no one.

– R. K. Lightfoot

Painted in his Past is a poem all about Russian prison tattoos and the importance of tattoos amongst many criminals in Russia. With a criminals collection of tattoo serving a record of his ‘achievements’ and as an indicator of his status within the criminal community. The idea for this poem came after watching the film Eastern Promises, in which the lead character is stripped before a group of Vor, essentially the Russian Mob equivalent of the Italian Mafia’s made man, and after inspecting his tattoos decide he is worthy of becoming a Vor himself and give eight-pointed star tattoos on his shoulders and knees to denote this.

Poetry

Cider Country

Nov 22, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

Picking apples was his vocation
Pressed into cider and sold across the nation
Hundreds of trees, all but one planted before his time
One that’s since grown too tall to climb
A head above the rest, stood the young and mighty tree
Causing strife for the picker and his knobbly knees

The secret of its growth hidden below
Too deep to be picked at by the circling crows
Entangled by the hungry roots, lies the pickers wife
She found apples too bitter, and so he took her life

– R.K Lightfoot

‘Cider Country’ is a poem about a passionate apple picker whose family have been picking at the orchard for generations, who we find out killed his wife in a rage because she was critical about the bitterness of one of the apples. An attempt at some dark humour in this poem with the absurd motivation and the bluntness with which the murder is revealed.

Poetry

Going to State

Sep 18, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

“Going to State!” he would proudly boast
A life of luxury and speeding down the coast
Impulsive, wild and enjoying the gifts of youth
Left scattered on asphalt was a girl named Ruth

An uncouth mind, restrained and locked
Decades of grey calmed and ceased all talk
Alone with the bars, he soon called his friends
Given his freedom, but it felt like the end

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘Going to State’ is about a reckless young athlete who inadvertently causes the death of a girl named Ruth, and how he went to prison and became institutionalized. The whole poem basically serves as a cautionary tale.

Poetry

On Valentine’s

Jun 3, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

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.

– R.K. Lightfoot

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.