Radio Poem by Robbie Squires

Lemme tell you a story
About a place I know
On the east side band
Is a city called Radio
Now only a couple people lived there
In the city named Radio
But one of the men
Went by the name Jack Bello
Now jack was small but sure was mean
Known to have a bad temper
On one foggy night
Jack blew out the light
On his landlord George Riddle

Mr. George was a pretty nice man
Went to church and played the blued
But when he died, he did not cry
“It was what god wanted to do”
His music gave him an edge
On men half his age
They wanna fight
And he’ll play em a song
“You wanna get a drink? ”
And George said alright

Back to Jack Bello
And his killing landlord ways
Still lives in the apartment
And goes to work each day
No one knows about the murder
At least not yet

Jack was a gambling man
You know he lived to bet
Blew all his money in New Orleans
Hasn’t recovered since
So he’s been down about everything lately
Been pretty sad
Last night for dinner
Ice cream was all he had
Maybe he took out his stress
And handed it to George
Just stress was all it is
But the world will never know


People started to wonder about Mr. George
So they filed a missing person report
The police got pretty involved with it
George had ties to the fire department
So they interviewed every for blocks around
The old, the young; but nothing they found
Could help them him the search for missing George Riddle
Not even Jack Bello

When they interviewed jack he acted real cool
Said he was away
In San Jose playing pool
So the cops left with no info to spare
But this run in gave jack quite a scare
Afraid they might catch him for the deed he had done
Jack went into hiding; talked to no one

One day the cops came a second time
Jack answered the door but was paranoid
He answered their questions and they went on their way
But Jack did not act cool this time
He was a nervous wreck
Hands shaking, voice trembling, face sweating
He walked around pacing
The cops were suspicious of Jack Bello now
But he didn’t know it

After two more interviews jack was mentally dead
The only thing on his mind were these cops
The boys came back
Arrest warrant in their hands
They threw Jack in the back of the wagon
And took him to the station
Jack in cuffs, they took his picture
Threw him in a cell, already convicted
The day his court date came along
Innocent he plead, “I did no wrong”
The jury found him guilty of murder
In the first degree
In his cell Jack rotted away
In a place where the sun could never see