A Poem About An Old Prison Man

Waiting on Death Row
People coming in overalls
Taking me to the gas chamber
Scuffling of feet
They took him down the hallway
Feeling everyone's heartbeat
The central control of the soul
Batons and retro-tons
Ingrown toenails
One time all around you
All round you, bump-bump
Save my air, save my air
My air, my air
Air, water, trees
Machines eating the night
Energy moving
Nuclear fires
Burning reactors on my gate
Fires of hell are burning
Come home
Can you see
Can you say
That you say
That you really love this place?

by Charles Manson

Comments (4)

The narration is very lively. Nobody likes to be in the prison but everybody reaches there out of certain circumstances. Nobody can expect a prison to be a holiday home. This is natural. Even if all the people and parties cried for a better prison environment, somewhere it is never fulfilled. A prisoner is always seen as only a second rate person. Man won't accept him like his very neighbor because the man in the prison has a tag about him. This is the difficulty. Who created that tag is another question.
And when your feet dry and you find yourself being puked on by more bad beavers than you can shake two sticks at just remember what yo momma told you the first time Oprah rolled her fat ass out of the ocean, 'These grocers are rubbing my tits a bit too hard.'
Charlie, you truly inspire me. Your poetry makes me want to get a tattoo just like yours. All my life I've been amazed by the story of Charles Manson and I see him as somewhat of an American Hero. You're my hero, Charlie. Die pigs.
again, a beautiful poem from charles manson...CHARLES IN CHARGE! ! ! ! ! ! ! !