Rowing Through The Pain
Row, Row, Row your boat gently down the stream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily life is but a dream
Row, Row, Row your boat why can’t I scream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily perfections not how it seems
Row, Row, Row your boat forever never ends
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily my pain never mends
Over, Over, Over again until I go insane
Barely, Barely, Barely, Barely rowing through the pain
No, No, No you don’t go crying a river of tears
Hear me, Hear me, Hear me, Hear me crying for all these years
As morose as it may sound
I know I’m really just another
Death row man.
No,
I’m not locked away
For a crime I have done.
I’m free,
But that doesn’t mean
I’m still not on that row.
And that also doesn’t mean
There isn’t some crime I could have done
That would have me lock away and unfree.
I’m sure there are stacks of crimes
I have done
Just all in different lives.
And some of those lives
Are in the past
And some are in the present.
And those guys
Are now locked away
While here I am still free.
Death row, in the here and now,
Free or not
It matters little in the end.
What matters is our willingness
To be redeemed
And the peerless opportunity to be free.
So you
Who are on death row too
The question is, what are you going to do about it?
(7/27/25)
Although
it’s a hard row to hoe
a rough furrow to harrow
and a tough trench to plough
there’s many a meadow to mow
I hereby avow
and tho' it may be news to you
farmers have the need
to sow their seeds
where milkmaids milk the cows
swineherds feed their sows
and shepherds have their pie
and eat it too
in Slough now
he didn’t blink
when the light caught his face—
just stared like a dog too long in the rain.
no prayers,
no cries,
no family on the concrete bench.
he killed for sport,
like swatting flies—
and still the world made room for him.
the guards were tired,
the chaplain bored.
death smelled like disinfectant and steel.
he coughed once.
then again.
then silence.
nobody wept—
not even the devil.
Row on row the nettles grow
And circles do surround
Hairy stems the prison wires
And jagged leaves their barbs.
Cry out, forsaken sinner
Your voice shall not be heard
We listen to the wind song
And hark its piercing sound.
Your poison nettle vapours
Cling to my moistened lungs
And acrid nettle juices
Drip from my swollen mouth.
Alone, now in death—
Eden’s angel looms
Sword aflame in hand
To keep you on your own.
Cry out your purgatory
Futile ring your pleas
You beg to rise at morning
To crawl out from your tomb
Longing for light of day
Immobile in that room
That blade your only sun
And guardian your god.
Cry out, cry out
You nettle-captured fiend
Cry out for life
For banished liberty.
Cry out, cry out, vanquished foe
Your lies now hold no weight
I from serpent’s lips released
For it is finished, so He said.
they said justice
but meant
just us
and here I sit—
a roach in a cage of light,
the hum of the air thick
with bleach and lies.
my skin
was the evidence.
my eyes—guilty.
no rich man ever came
this far south
to die
in a room this cold.
I write with broken pencils
and dream of rain,
the kind that doesn't stop.
If I owned a circus
for you I'd play the clown
(Do jugglers ever tire of throwing up?
Only when they're sick of it.)
or if I had a rickshaw
I could run you round the town
if I were landlord of a bar
drinks would be on me
as proprietor of a restaurant
you would dine for free
and if I had a row boat
I would float you down the stream
but as I have none of these
all I can do is dream
birds
often have a spare-row
flying
somewhere in the flock
extra
eyes and ears benefit
survival
with respect numbers
in
this or that tree grove
with
residential birdfeeders
ten
birdfeeders running
actively
almost all of the year
great
for photography and
perfect
when reading/writing
poetry
and philosophy
mathematics
and counting time
len
...'wowza' again...
a spare row of
creatures take...
their last step
every minute of...
time any where
and become food...
yesterday i saw
a hawk take a...
sparrow feeding
in the front hedge...
just a half hour ago
another got nailed...
while i watched so
the mystery is gone...
sparrows will land on
your shoulder because...
hawks avoid us and so
we're predatory protection....
len
A double murderer
Shot before a firing squad
Justice or revenge?
An eye for an eye
So, the old law book conveys
Punishment for sin
Society’s way
To rid town square of wrongs
Yet, death row awaits
The hangman stands by
The masses don’t know his name
Pulls the trap door latch
The cycle repeats
With no real decrease in crime
No one ever wins
Justice will make deals
With the guilty to win cases
Takes her blindfold off
Death for some killers
Others given terms or pleas
For the same offense
Lex talionis
The law of retaliation
Not meted out fairly
I think my muse hates exercise;
she flees whenever I row.
A three day streak on the water:
the verse refuses to flow.
I’m not quite sure what the deal is,
why it’s either this or that.
Perhaps she carries a little weight
and thus prefers me fat?
In a crowded room filled with high society, and
In the facade of decadence, plays the Back Street Symphony
Winos falling asleep covered in yesterdays news
A lone saxaphone player, playing the blues
Neon signs and desinger lines are giving him his cues
He says "I've paid my dues"
I've got front row tickets to mainstreet
Walkin' by, don't know who you'll meet
A freak show on every corner
A broken heart walks on as a mourner
In a darkened alley you can hear him pray
Searching for a Savior with some words and a brown bag
Can anyone spare some change for me?
There goes the prom queen, is it a dream?
Hell is open twenty-four hours a day
I have front row tickets to main street
Watching the devils' choir earn their keep
There tearing down the walls in LA
There's a hooker on display, on main street
We went to the movies, just for a lark.
It was so romantic, there in the dark.
Now, if I told you I met her inside,
You would think I was being mean no doubt.
But the reason we couldn’t meet outside
Was to make sure her husband didn’t find out.
Has anyone seen a heart,
looking for its owner?
lost mine short while ago
jilted in the third row
before the finale
notch seven, her tally
Has anyone found a heart?
Surely no one wants two
knowing what hearts go
through, unless one takes
them apart, her main feature
from the start --
Please, someone call the Maitre D
with a flashlight for losers like me --
been dropped like popcorn, gummy bear,
paste ponytail clip, fake long blond hair
loudly she laughed, maybe spritz of pee
where Barbie sat, another downed today
cleanup in row three --
romantic romance
romancing romanced
romanticist
romanticism
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