Farm Life


prison_smallRadio, Radio. The man is walking.
Get in line and stop your talking.
Time for another count.
Better make sure you’ve made your mount.

Screaming mouse,
Is in the house.
Rats are forming in a pack.
Hands in your pocket beside your rack.

Commissary’s late,
Pushed back S.E. date.
Wearing winno issue,
Bathrooms out of tissue.
Better stop your bitchin,
Or tomorrows it’s hells kitchen.

Scullery bound,
Contraband found.
A candy bar at stake.
In another barracks shake.
A snivel do not sign,
Or be labeled a Lopper’s wine.

Past are made,
Where time is paid.
In the concrete walls,
Where justice falls.

Luck of the draw,
There is no law.
Just take it day by day.
Road dogs move about,
Thieves beat down, rolled out.
I hope you enjoy your stay.

Farm living,
Not the life for me.
Farm living,
Someday I’ll be free.
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(Written inside Musick Farm Facility, Irine, California. November 9. 1991)

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About paulsdahlman

Born in Southern California, raised on the road and now growing roots in New England. I am on the journey of my lifetime. May the footprints I leave behind form the words to my story.
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