Chicago. Walked the streets and loved its beat, the high-class and the beaten-down. Those who built and damned, those who came and went. One name kept calling mine. I saw it many times. So, one night, I sat to ask, beyond the stars, the message cast:
“Who is Alphonse Capone?”
“A traitor of sorts. Against his own kind. No conscience to correct his wanton ways.
A family diversion. He refused to be corrected. A man of few words but capable intellect.
He proposed the way to the new world. One of power and greed. Taking the land into his own hand, by the power of creed.
Surreptitiously he crept ~ into the undercover and dug himself in deep. Few saw what was coming.
Somehow he took reign. Though he was not a king.
A gangster of sorts but more so, a gambler of fate. He tried to beat the odds and risked it all.
The stakes were too high. He made it to fame and fortune, and to ill will and mental strife which took his so called freedom away.
He had a cast of characters by his side. None were truly devoted.
In the cloud of his darkness, freedom returned to those he held under his grip. He fell and they rose.”
“What of his connection?”
“A man of few words, he kept his family close.
There was remorse at his passing, but none so grieved as his family. For the loss of his life and the loss of his life while living. Fantastic fortunes aside, he gave to the wrong riches and landed a poor man.”