A sky as dark as the one that dawns
Over the club “Il Cuore Nero”
Serves as omen to the miserable old men
Veiled below, in shrouded shadow.
No family mired in treachery
Can compare to this laylow meet of Fathers;
Capo di Capi is the aim to every Boss who came,
Every mind on the claim once thought theirs.
Don Egoisma plops down in front
To get the best view of the table
Next to Don Fretta, who already sat
Ten minutes before he was able.
Donna Gelosia reclines to his left,
But is already starting to plot
On how to snatch Don Rabbia’s seat
Since a bargainer he is not.
Don Lussuria sits next to her
For a breath of the feminine scent
On both sides, for Donna Assenza
His left has already spent.
Donna Sogni grabs his seat
After Assenza yanks it from out beneath –
While Don Amore and Don Passione
Quiet neighbor Rabbia, much to his grief.
The raucous table – Called to order!
But fails to stop our first contender:
Signore Fretta stood, always rather rude,
But boasting the greatest number of members.
“First to live,
First to wed,
First to take purpose to bed –
First to start,
First to quit,
First to call for better shit.
First to try what hasn’t been done
And first to break what hasn’t been won.”
The Dons agreed, being first is good
In many forceful occasions;
But, when the heart requires delicacy,
Fretta rubtures from frequent abrasions.
Donna Gelosia takes her stand –
Fouled by Fretta moving first –
Though distracted by Assenza’s beautiful dress,
She proceeds along with verse:
“I fight for what is great, since
The best’s our only fate or
Else we’re in a wanting state.
A wanting state is never great
So fighting is our resting state
To seize early and never wait
So satisfaction comes never late
I anticipate.”
The Dons agreed, to fight for more
Is a motivational trance;
But all this eager need for fill
Leaves no room for patience.
The room is seized by Don Egoisma –
As always, in his mind –
When he announces himself, dictating
All’s proper course, refined.
“I am the best, therefore
I will do what is best for me
Since what is best for me
Is best for all,
So there.”
The Dons agreed that priority
To oneself gives priority to all
Until those priorites are at odds
And the self lets the rest all fall.
Don Rabbia erupts in a fury –
About what? No one quite knows –
But he soon tires his own self out
When vain blustering draws to a close.
Donna Assenza rubs Rabbia’s shoulder
To make sure he is actually there,
Then uses it to push unevenly up
And directs towards the distance glazed stare.
“Higgledy-jiggledy piggle lee doo,
Shashapa mikkida bazzil la-oo –
Sert? Lat! Figgle-mcfee
Scappadapadeedappadeedapee.
Helkxjachtevertz-“
The Dons stopped Assenza at this point
For her made-up language made no sense;
Always being stuck in her head
Made her creative, but left them tense.
Don Lussuria, slapping Assenza’s rear,
Sprung with a spring in his pants –
Energetic, crafty, and a teensy bit wild,
He accompanied speech with a dance.
“Brothers, I love the woman –
As much as I love business, I love the woman –
As much as I love killing, I love the woman –
As much as I love life, I love the woman –
As much as I love myself, I love the woman –
As much as I love the organization, I love the woman –
And so, mi friori, you see
I love the woman too much
And must refuse your offer.”
He sat down with no further sound
Which left the table confused
Since his deluding their attention
Had been, by pride, abused.
Then all eyes and ears directed
To the youngest of the bunch;
Those three most prime contenders
Who’d surely beat the punch.
Don Sogni cleared his throat
And drank his dish of cream –
He spread his arms out wide
And professed a profound dream:
“I dreamt a dream that I could fly –
My mind would wing me past the sky
To a place where I don’t have to think
Of violence, sadness, kitchen sink –
And look below upon tiny Earth
Which has all since become our turf
Where mankind exists for our gain –
To give us love, take our pain –
A power beyond autonomy
In set responsibility:
To fashion meaning for those in debt,
Help them feel safe caught in our net,
Force them to feel equal and content
Until our leaking lifeforce spent.”
Don Sogni stretched back, satisfied,
Though not one word he said;
This dream he pontificated
Remained safe inside his head.
The Dons were rather curious
By that knowing smirk on his lips;
But he waved them off, not wanting to break
His imagination’s grip.
Don Amore uncrossed his legs to
Spring up with confidence,
Since a party not at table present
Bought out his loyalty hence.
“I propose we should focus
On building strong our friends,
Since we rely on their support
To realize our ends.
Like Don Lussuria, I love the woman,
But I only love just one,
And I tell you that her guidance
Is the very best, bar none.
I nominate Signora Ossessione,
Who operates beyond our group,
To lead us in her narrow focus
And energize our troupe.
We have need of one stronger than any of us
Since we tend to get lost in our fear,
Which directs us with pointless arguments
And renders our purpose less clear.”
The Dons were terribly outraged,
Expecting better from Amore;
Asking them to sell themselves
Was not their right of way.
It was especially disappointing
Since he’d always been their prime –
But even the best among us
Grow ever worn with time.
In the silence of despondence,
A fed-up voice rang through:
Don Passione had something to say,
Though most wished it were not true:
“Okay, fellas, here’s the deal. I know I’m the youngest one here. I know no one here trusts what I say all that much, or at least takes it seriously, but I’ve just gotta shoot it straight to you. I care so much about this family, and, unlike the rest of my brothers, I don’t have the patience for all this flowery language and sympathetic crap. My place here is built on answering a question: what the Hell are we doing here? Seriously, what the fuck? And why? We sit around at this table, talking about who the next boss is going to be all night, and none of us ever decide who it’s going to be because we honestly don’t know what we want in our new boss. And we never will know, because the whole family can’t get its shit together as one. We’re scattered, in motive and mind, with different objectives that change the face of the family when we act out on our own. I agree with Don Amore, but he’s wrong about the solution. We move ourselves – no one else. I just want to do something, you know? Not pussyfoot around, talking about everything, but doing nothing. If we could put our heads together, move towards a united goal, maybe the mafia wouldn’t be a word that people scoffed at whenever they heard it. Maybe this little family of ours could actually do something, instead of just lounging about, pretending like spin-the-bottle to see who we can get to kiss our asses is the most important item of business. Let’s get our shit together, yeah? Before we fade away like the dusk, only ever existing within this pitiful club.”
The Dons were swept up with fervor
To do more than just talk –
But in order to act, plans must be set;
During this stage they balk.
Absorbed in their deciding
They forget Don Passione;
Arguments and philosophizing
Keep them static every day.
Past the morning, past the night –
Trapped in “Il Cuore Nero,”
Fathers never choose what will lead them to do,
But pump blood down endless spirals.
Morning's Early Dark 