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Helping Hand...

The night was full of silence
if silence can be full
A full-moon had risen monstrous
exerting manic pull

Crazy things most always happen
when it's gibbous-moon
Killer felt it's song
it sang a dangerous tune

Night-time congregation
hugs and secret shakes
The corner filled with drug-lords
and the money that they make

Dice clicked and dollars floated
to and fro from hands
Each gang, a piece of turf
where they made their stands

The granny-lady walking
in her neighborhood
came from down the store
crept past the corner hoods

Three figures in their hoodies
in a corner dark
They had their prey surrounded
caught him in the park

He gripped his wooden cane so tight
He asked them what they wanted
He didn't want to have to fight
“We want it all”; they taunted

His legs were weak, his back was bent
he could barely stand
He'd had some strength, but it has went
youth has slipped from hand

Out of the night, a silver flash
brings salvation to a man
A gurgle is the only sound
Killer's killed again

One shadow pulls a piece from boot
as Killer starts to hack
The cane lashes out, he hears a hoot
and “Sir, I've got your back”

Killer stepped to the dance of death
All the villains lying dead
The old man's quite, out of breath
“Old man, what's in your head?”

“I had to help, though it wasn't much
I've known you for a while
Know you have a magic-touch”
He said; with a little smile

“I still have my old cart
that I keep from my scrapping days
I had to stop you know, my heart
It's down just a little ways”

The pair of them had finished up
the bodies put away
Killer said; “Let's have a cup”
The old man said; “Yeah, I'll stay”

Luigi told him lots of tales
of the neighborhood
Italians and the lads from Wales
back when this place was good

It was safe to walk at night
and to let your children play
Now, don't let them out of sight
It's sad enough to say

We didn't carry weapons
weren't worried for our lives
Our youths did not depend upon
guns and steely knives

As the old Luigi climbed his stair
he looked back at his new friend
“ Old days are gone, I do despair
I wonder where its' end?”

Disappearing gangstas
one or two a night
Killer's freezer slowly filling
just meat, but tasty, quite

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Editing stage: 

Comments

I see that it's fixed! Thanks

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author comment

You're the best Gee. I much loved the story line and how you've listed those details and the comparison between the past and the now.
If you can send Killer to my country. There are many villians that need not to stay alive. :(
Know what I mean?

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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you mean! There are a lot of villains out there that need to be dealt with. Sure, I'll send Killer over to give you a hand. Just send me a scene and I'll send him to deal with it. Killer loves to travel ! Is there a particular situation that is troubling you? Take care, ~ Gee and Killer

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

author comment

great poem
more tighter..
better work
its coming together good Gee!

Thank You!

Likes to keep his neighborhoods clean of the vermin! Also, the meat is welcome. With the price of groceries these days, every penny counts. Thanks from both of us. ~ Gee

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

author comment
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