The Mafia, Jimmy Hoffa And Concrete Poetry Poem by Shaun Cronick

Concrete poetry for me is absolute crap!
It's pants! It has no place in poetry or
my generous forgiving heart it's about as
welcome as huge fart in a small spacesuit,
You've got to see and read it to believe it,
It's an iron fist in an iron gauntlet slowly
being dragged down a never-ending chalk-board
with a two hundred decibel volume of banshee
young being slowly slain at birth, for added
mocking effect! I'm chagrined it doesn't turn
people blind or pluck their own eyeballs out,
It really is that bad, It sucks,
some people like it but they are heroin addicts, Of all the forms of poetry this is Nemesis, It is Evil, the sperm of the Devil,
The Mafia, who are renowned poetry lovers echo
and share my views regarding this vile concrete
poetry chimera, So one day in 1975 The Mafia gathered, bought
and stole every parchment and scrap of this crap
and decided to get rid of it once and for all
So one dark gloomy night, some-where in America
some serious looking wiseguys oozing menace and
malice went to work to rid this beautiful blue
planet of this deadly, epoch, apocalyptic, Hell on Earth,
Gotterdammerung doomsday threat to Mankind and the Universe Beyond,
Forgive me, I get carried away sometimes, So one dark,
gloomy night The Mafia went to work on it's noble quest, This work
consisted of pouring all this gathered vileness
into a huge empty cast, only containing the recently deceased
body of Jimmy Hoffa, the old Teamster's Union boss, blah
blah, blah! We kill two birds with one stone thought The Mob, this huge sarcophagus quickly dried and
it and Jimmy Hoffa's concealed body was taken away,
Where to nobody, no pun intended, to this day knows,
It's a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,
Until now, today, this very moment I know where this
colossus plinth of poetry pain and Jimmy Hoffa's
final resting place is located! Last week at three a m
tuesday morning I met and spoke with a shodden and
shady witness of the aforementioned plinth and
human cargo concealed within.This hugely reliable and
well paid informer, nervously told me that this now legendary
concrete poetry plinth story secretly shared among proper
Poetry loving, thugs, killers and assorted psychopaths,
This plinth of poo, monolith of woe, not forgetting Jimmy!
Can be located seven miles outside Chicago on highway twelve,
heading north by north-west near the town of MacGuffin
Propping up Interstate 2 overpass, the third pillar from the left,
it's the one with the smiley face sprayed-painted on it,
You've got to hand it to and secretly admire The Mafia
when it comes to respecting and loving poetry,
They're not all bad!


Copyright Shaun Cronick 2019.All Rights Reserved.