Mr_Keating leaves the last of many funerals, and begins to think what he should do next.  The Streets, whilst busy, had become somewhat disrespectful.  A new vulgarity had taken over.  Men of Honour, or at least, supposed men of honour, spoke like bar-room drunks.  Mr_Keating was running a successful and popular poetry club in Los Angeles.  The low-brow culture he witnessed made his brain sad.  He got to thinking...

"Friends, I think I am safe in saying that what we need is some kind of writing competition with as much participation, and as few casualties, as possible.  I have spoken with my esteemed friend, colleague, Competitive Writing Competition stalwart, commander of the FAIR Writing Competitions' (which have had no fatalities), Dr_Kennethnoisewater

So, what I suggest is a poetry competition.  Up to four stanzas, and they don't have to rhyme.

So, for example, this poem would be acceptable:"

"I knew a simple writer

A wordsmith, not a fighter

He entered a contest where his words were read

And for his troubles, he got a bullet to the head"

The rules of the competition are:

No shooting entrants.  

If an entrant is killed, their son/daughter may claim the prize

Murdered entrants will still have their poems judged

Prizes will only be awarded to those who have actually entered the contest

Poems must be recited here by 18:00 on the 6rd of November.

The Prizes

TBC - but prizes in the millions as well as perks will be available.  Please send any donations to Dr_Kennethnoisewater, who will hold them in escrow until the winners are announced.  Please note, that under no circumstances will the prizes be awarded to anyone who has not entered the competition.

The judges

Dr_Kennethnoisewater, SammySoul and one other special guest judge TBC

WE LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR POETRY!

Mr Keating, when pray tell is the 6rd of November? Can we safely assume you bit your tongue there and meant 6th of November?

I'll start.  This is a poem called PEOPLE I RESPECT IN THE MAFIA, and it's about people I respect in the mafia:

"Tutte is a beauty with his face bearing a nose

He certainly has a very unique style of prose

Satan is a doc and it at times easy to mock

Bad at organised crimes and as subtle as a rock

The lawyer from Lancaster ran a writing competition

From which more than score of fatalities did fruition

@Squirrely_Dan! He's a Godfather, man!

And is sponsoring people to pick my pocket as much as they can!

Gerwyn_Price has identified an outside tough guy

Until that it, the tough guy started to cry

He huffed and he puffed, and then he went away

I won't mention his name: he'd prefer it that way"

That's it, that's my poem, and I hope it's enjoyed.

Thanks, Tyrion, that level of attention to detail is the kind of thing that we want with this competition, not attention to the overcrowded graveyard.

Yes, the 6th of November, not the 6rd of November, which of course makes no sense.

Originally, the whole thing was to be wrapped up tomorrow, but finding universally respected judges is no easy thing, and then I was tied up dealing with darts, and tough-guys, and being subjected to the thieving intentions of two entire cities.

Between them, they've managed to rob me 3 times, so I guess the joke is on me.

Now that the competition is officially underway I am pleased to announce that I am starting the Prize Pool at 100 credits! We will be doing a 60/30/10 split for the winners. As Mr_Keating mentioned we are taking additional donations for prizes which can be sent to me directly. Notice: Please include a note for all cash and credit transfers. Any transfers without a note will be considered a tip and will not be added to the prize pool. 

Still have a few more days to get some entries submitted. Competition is light right now, so get those entries in for a good chance to win some money!

I am looking forward to seeing what people can do. As always, if you have any questions, comments or concerns feel free to bring them up here or stop by my office and we can have a chat. 

I'll tell you this tale, this tale of woe,

About a gangster, the world reviled so.

His name was Kuku, his mental age was 7,

Again and again, they sent him to heaven.

He peddled his bullshit, his hate and his lot,

But that so hated gangster, his comeuppance he got.

He ranted and raved and thought his speeches a thriller,

Then fucked it all up by becoming a rogue and a killer.

So if you run a competition, take care don't you see,

And you won't have an unexpected assassin for tea.

Think of poor Kuku cut off in his prime,

And off this memorium set down in rhyme.

The Dangerous And Strong Gun
A Poem by SammyAdams

 

Whose gun is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite angry though.
He was cross like a dark potato.
I watch him pace. I cry hello.

He gives his gun a shake,
And screams I've made a bad mistake.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The gun is dangerous, strong, and deep,
But he has promises to keep,
Tormented with nightmares he never sleeps.
Revenge is a promise a man should keep.

He rises from his cursed bed,
With thoughts of violence in his head,
A flash of rage and he sees red.
Without a pause I turned and fled.

It's a simple formula, like one plus one is two

You take a boy in trouble, some say delinquent youth.

You get him started small, a simple job or so,

And when he gets much older he'll have the skills to show

That though he's now a man, he's not afraid to kill

He'll even take you his boss out if it means it pays the bills. 

So far all is good in our place

But when a man starts to talks

It just smells like shit all over

And so it is every time the mouth is open

Truth is really important but not for him

All other laughs so much all day long

Thanks, Jen.

Now it is just unpaid. 

There once was a man from Downtown

Who's salty tears made everyone frown

His bullshit was tiring

His prose uninspiring 

So come laugh at this Gibbering clown.

He called himself a man of the law; 

Walking big and standing tall, 

Until he got home, and hid face

He took off his suit and wore pretty lace. 

I am dedicating this funny little poem to my good friend Lincoln_Lawyer who definitely does not wear dainty lace under his fancy suits. Let's keep these entries coming. I am having a great time reading everyone's entries, both serious and fun ones. 

Dr Ken, after our ancestors served together, we were persuaded of rhe comforts of Satin, so I certainly don't wear lace.

Right you are as always Lincoln_Lawyer I would never insinuate that your wore lace under your suit. 

Just don't look under my lab coat.