Death Row Stroll



Modern Beat Rhyme
(In Freeform cadence rhyme, compound signatures)
Cold winters day, late November
Burning in fear inside Purgatory’s ember
On Death Row shuffle
For sins I don’t even remember
Did I do it? Did they misconstrue it?
Too many thoughts I can’t break through it
Screw it, I blew it
If they Want me to die I’ll do it
They wanna open their gates
So we can all seize our fates, our loves and our hates
Is that what life generates?
I’ve got my death date
The reaper anticipates and my grave awaits
Today is the day I take the slow walk to peace
Today is the day when my failed life will cease
Led down he hall with chains on my feet
Comforted by a man who hears all mens shrieks
The voice behind me is the preacher walking
Words of his Bible doing all the talking
Stalking my death and holding my coffin
Its fucking exhausting
Like I’m on another trial
Dead man walking vile
Its my green fucking mile
To make the victims family smile
Get their retribution if I offer my contribution
To their resolution of emotional restitution
When I go from this institution to my persecution
Maybe electrocution is the final solution
They want my allocution?
Screw it what if I didn’t do it
Goes to show ya there ain’t no closure
From a man who stands innocent in a shadow of guilt
A dark of enclosure
Who loses or who wins
Who cares the walk begins
Fear turns to sweat dripping down my neck
Trying to keep a bold face but I just peed on the deck
I don’t want to take this trek
No noose around my neck
I didn’t kill the chick
I loved her
I swear on my life
I never saw that knife
I didn’t kill my wife
The wrong person is walking to death
But I Have nothing left and her families bereft
My attorney didn’t detest when I confessed
I was depressed and oppressed
Caved in at the bequest of a brutal request
Good cop bad cop at its very best
So here I am
Strolling down deaths hall
Taking the fall
Led by my executioner
The infamous Lucifer
Satan has me by the balls
How many others walked down these halls
I’m the moral equivalent of a holy dissident
A miscreant citizen militant innocent
Strolling to shoot up deaths insulin
Forced to mainline my own decline
Seems ironically sublime
Doing drugs was my only crime
Now its my method of dying
But no crying its just my time
I’m here at center stage
The audience full of rage….
Revenge finally comes of age
I wonder why
I only want to see the sun once more
Feel the heat upon my face
Dream about the morning birds
But what I heard was
“Speak your Last Words”
They strap me to their table
Bound in stretchy cable
Stick their needles in my veins
Pull tight on the reigns and what remains
………A dead man still in chains
In a roomful of hosts
A chamber of ghosts
All of us now toast
You may mistrust us or just be disgusted
But this injustice upsets us
And trust us
Death Row is poetic justice
Marching with Satan in tow
As I walked down Death Row

Cyclops Viewing



Our values get shaped and reshaped then placed into packages through environment and experience. When I was young I was taught to be biased, to prejudice my concept of people by group. As I got to know the individual people of these groups it humanized them of me and I understood that we are all in this together. I was compassionate enough to release my preconceived prejudices and appreciate instead of judging. Before that, I had the one eyed vision of Cyclops. This piece was written during a marathon of Bob Dylan tunes and other inspirational materials. The is not politics, it’s observations….

Young love blossoms
Ganymede in drag
Hanging up a chandelier
Waving proud his flag
On his way to find a home
Post Sodom and Gomorrah
Steve kicked Eve out of the garden
The asp ate all the flora
Crucified across a fence post
Laramie blue of scarlet rain
Choked on predispositions
Same old line of shit again
They’re an abomination
Some asexual mutation
Dad denied and mama cried’
The day their precious daughter died
Sundays book is full of lies
And rainbows all desert the skies
Pius brutality would fit the bill
If idols of Gethsemane are ill
Even God can’t pay the bills
Mobs of stereotyping kills
What fuck are we to do?
Call on Cyclops dressed in blue
Now dig this

It’s murder by stereotype once justice shuts her eyes
Lost in Half Moon harbor floating on a sea of lies
The island of acceptance is now sinking in its shame
No one to protect the huddled masses lost without a name
One black sheep went out to graze
In a concrete field of dreams
Dressed up like an evening shadow
But he hasn’t got the means
To live inside the gates elite
Where snowmen dress in suits
Only reason sheep go there
Is for criminal pursuits
Rain and snowflakes mix it up
Hooded nimbus bout to burst
Not blending in with status quo
Seems to be his curse
Thin line stands at the ready
Innocence seems unsteady
And someone’s prepped to teach
Cyclops prepares a parting speech
Must protect the seeing blind
This one should be with his kind
Eating chitlins and chewing videls
Not shooting 44 caliber skittles
Walking where he don’t belong
Something here is going wrong
He has a criminal urban hue
To Mr. Cyclops dressed in blue
What a shame

Hero of the night
Void of 20/20 sight
Pulled his fears out of his holster
Using all his might
Fired bias unto the manchild
Spraying bullets far and wild
Cut buttonholes the size of hail
Left him in a smoking pile
As Cyclops writes a familiar tale
Another Mother cries and wails
If you got no money the system always fails
Will justice prevail?
Days aren’t quiet and nights are shrill
When lights go the world stands still
Stereotypes can make blood spill
No judge or jury just the kill
Distant ships lost in the rain
Fallen idols crushing pain
To her knees his Mama drops
Another acquittal for Cyclops
And the world stops spinning for a brief moment

It’s murder by stereotype once justice shuts her eyes
Lost in Half Moon harbor floating on a sea of lies
The island of acceptance is now sinking in its shame
No one to protect the huddled masses lost without a name
Accept and appreciate
Live and love in peace

Blood On Your Cricket



Justice bought and sold down the barrel of a gun

When hatred is the weapon there’s no where left to run

We place our outrage on display

Whenever violence comes our way

Turn on the news kids died today

Never action just words to say

Rapid fire with military sights

Brining slaughter to brand new heights

We sit and cry about our rights

While families cry into the nights

Guns in the streets

Bullets in the air

We don’t do a thing

Like we don’t even care

It wasn’t from weapons

Blame it on parents

Blame mental health

Blame incoherence



I’m sorry that you lost your son but that’s no reason take my gun

Guns don’t kill people, people kill people

Many times using guns

The religious right will always fight

Until they start shooting nuns

Political conversation

Is mental masturbation

Trial and tribulation and

Painful aggravation

Point of exasperation

We’re a nation of iration

Of paid for political stagnation

A nation that has had it’s fill

You know its time to act

God dammit bullets kill!



Justice bought and sold down the barrel of a gun

When hatred is the weapon there’s no where left to run

Maybe we should start discussion

Talk ourselves into concussion

Breaking news another eruption

Please excuse the interruption

How many children were blown away

How can we condone more murder today

Is it parents that haven’t shown the way

Or the mentally ill that get thrown away

How many tears must be shed

How many more families must we console

How many more wakes until we wake

How many lives will it take

Before we take a stand

As the number of deaths inflate

It hurts me to think

The best we can do

Is engage in a circular debate

Our conscience is in pain

Jiminy is in the thicket

You can wash the blood from your hands but you’ll never wash

The blood upon your cricket

We all know nothing will be done

Any asshole can get a gun












Flames of injustice scorch the clouds
Smoke so angry it obscures thoughtful view
The strength of humanity was tested again
Full of shock centuries of distrust just stand still
Innocence chokes on the ashes of imbalance
Burning rage condensates the eyes of our hope
Streets littered with debris born from disparity
Embers of promises at the end of their rope

Mothers extinguish the flames with their tears
As frustration shakes it tired head with its fears

No scales of balance can make freedom ring
A fractured lady once stood tall in her splendor
Eagles ascend hairless above the commotion
O’er their aerie of untruths where they sent her
The agents of battle smile beneath a gas mask
The wheels of justice strut proudly through town
Spewing bravado paid in someone else’s blood
Trampling ghosts of the insignificant underground

Hopelessly shackled to pillars of their Plaza
Anger creeping across town like hot molten lava

Looking for an answer but all we get is fooled
Not a perfect system even when you follow rules
See what happens when you step out of line
We travel past ridiculous down into sublime

The glory of authority
The producer of lost future
The frustration of a nation
The sorrow of tomorrow
The saints against the sinners
How can anyone declare themselves winners?

It’s All right Ma, I’m Only Bleeding


Like most every time one story out of millions captures the attention of the media and the masses. There was Casey Anthony, Scott Peterson, and who could forget the OJ trial? Now we’re at it again with the Trayvon Martin George Zimmerman case. There are so many elements we could focus on in this trial. The right to defend oneself, the right to walk freely in a neighborhood, the racial profile, or the fact that it seems acceptable for an untrained person on “Neighborhood Watch” to be carrying a loaded weapon. All of these things have been selected ,inspected, and dissected until they were infected and rejected and basically been talked about over and over so much that even the hardcore trial addicts are getting weary. That’s how we do it though, we pick out one story out of millions, the one that will spark the most polarizing effect and set people against each other and beat the shit out of the story.
There’s millions of other atrocities to choose from, pick a city and chances are good an innocent person has been killed within the last few days, but if it doesn’t capture the imagination of the argument hungry public it gets no airtime. The courts are full of rapists, murderers, and liars getting away with crimes but unless there are elements that can get us fighting no one gives a shit. Give us a story with teeth. WTF, that’s our nature I guess, the ancient Romans gathered in hordes to watch other people meet a violent end and we are doing the same thing only calling it civilized. We don’t actually watch the battle but our mouths froth for the aftermath so we can disagree with each other and add some real life drama to our lives, as if we don’t already have our fair share.
So all in all its really not a big surprise that we would focus on this case but this one has taken a disturbing and disconcerting turn. The case isn’t coming down to facts, not at all about right or wrong, or racism, or unnecessary use of a firearm, its come down to who’s Mom does the jury believe. A grieving Mom or a Mom fighting for her sons freedom. We‘ve heard from both. Mrs. Martin. Who doesn’t believe that she is sure in her heart that she heard the familiar cry of her son screaming for help? Mrs. Zimmerman, who doesn’t believe that she believes in her heart that she heard the scream of her son? If it was me I would be sure it was my son, because my love for him is so strong I would believe it no matter what. So is one mother lying? Putting the two mothers on the stand is an all time low as far as I’m concerned. Personally I believe them both. I believe them to be caring and loving mothers who would go to the mat, take a bullet, die for there children. Most of us would. But they are not on trial.
Why does it even matter who was creaming for help? What about the facts? A young boy was guilty of buying candy and being in a strange neighborhood. A young man is guilty of following this youth, with a firearm in a holster, and confronting him for whatever reason. This is the debate. Is Zimmerman a protector or a vigilante? Maybe they should leave the Moms out and stick to the facts. But then again, if they do that they may lose ratings, who wants to see reality on TV anyway?