A Bushwick Night before Christmas   Leave a comment



This is something I plan on reading Tuesday at the Inspired Mic. I will gladly take any suggestions on how to make it better.

Thanks, Kevin.


T`was the night before Christmas and all thru the hood

Not a felon was stirring which was really good

The drugs were hidden in the kitchen with care

In hopes the cops wouldn’t find them there

The junkies were passed out from street corner meds

While visions of needles danced in their heads

Bob started the car as I closed my door

At the turn of the key the engine did roar

Off in the distance shots did rattle

To us seemed the sound of a battle

Away to the scene we flew like a flash

At the top of the street we almost did crash

The blood on the breast of the new fallen snow

Gave the luster of midday to the bodies below

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

But two bloody bodies smelling of beer

The two lay there not so lively or quick

I knew in a moment this was done by some dick

More rapid than eagles the cars they came

Bob whistled and shouted and called them by name

Here, Adam! Here, Boy, Here Charlie and David

On, Eddie, On, Frank, none of them waited

A  red trail of blood led up to a Hall

Now up I say, Up I say, Up I say all

As leaves before the wild hurricane fly

So went the dancers as Police we did cry

So on to the dance hall we all flew

Eight cops and old Sgt. Kelly too

Then in a twinkling I heard a small skell

He was prancing and pawing and yelled go to hell

I entered the dance hall in a quick bound

One wall was covered in holes I soon found

The blood on the wall showed here they were shot

The smoky hall smelled strongly of pot

I was in the bathroom the owner did claim

Over two hundred patrons answered the same

Piles of guns were found on the floor

All had been fired, some thru the door

The owner’s eyes did twinkle as he answered our calls

I had to admit he had some pair of balls

He claimed he knew nothing, no one had a pistol

Butbodies had so many holes if they walked they would whistle

The butt of a cigarette he held in his teeth

As still he denied knowing of those beneath

The owner he had a round little belly

That shook when he laughed at old Sgt. Kelly

Who did the shooting I asked him myself

He answered who knows maybe an elf

An elf with a machine gun is what he said

But it could have been Santa who made them dead

An asshole he was and also a jerk

Santa he claimed may have went berserk

Out to the street we dragged him thru snows

He shivered and shook and said this really blows

The two were taken by wagon not sleigh

For those two it appeared crime didn’t pay

Never hold up a club with two little guns

Unless the dancers are all little nuns

The dancers exclaimed as we drove from the site




Posted December 12, 2014 by kevingcox in Uncategorized

Tagged with , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Marion Harmon, A Writer in Vegas.

Just another WordPress.com site

Aethereal Engines

Stories of Imaginative and Speculative Fiction by Jason H. Abbott

Michael Ray King

Book Coach, Award-winning Author, Motivational Speaker


My Elicits, an Inception... Learning to Live in Perfection

The Jenny Mac Book Blog

Jenny Mac and the Man of Secrets

Rolling on the Floor laughing !!!

Smile :) >> You’re at The Best and Funniest Rofl Blog Ever

borough of lost boys

creative non-fiction. pursuit of truth.


The official Moolta Blog


a celebration of life

The Eagle's Nest

The Everything, Nothing, Something, Anything, My Thing weblog

Parenting And Stuff

Not a "how to be a great parent" blog

Christ! Xmas

all about Christmas and Santa.

Blood Mass

They kill at night then hide in the day.

Whisper As You Wander

Finding angels,fairies,and the wonders of New York City


deep thoughts by chef josh


Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar


An Un-Authorized Manual

Life Without Bullshit

The raw truth is like sushi for the soul...it's healthy for ya!

%d bloggers like this: