Poetry

Death Watch 2001


by John Huggins # 059121, 1/11/01

I may never see tomorrow, there's no written guarantee
So I'll write a few lines and tell you what I see.
There's no scent of freedom as you sit and stare,
There's noly the smell of death floating in the air.
And if you listen to the wind, you will hear it call,
Tomorrow is your day, you're going to die behind the wall.
It's a high price to pay, in someone elses game,
Once you become a number, and no longer have a name.
If the warden comes tomorrow walking to my cell,
I'll know its time to go, time to leave this hell
I had my last phone call tonight, just to say goodbye
It was hard to hear them cry, because I have to die.

Real World


By John Huggins

I see guys wearing blue, with orange shirts too,
Men without hope, people just like you.
I see them come, I see them die
And I think to myself, What a wonderful world

I see people who breathe, not just their deeds,
I don't know what's right, as I see them go into the night.
I just think to myself, what a wonderful world.

I see loved ones cry, lawyers who try
Deep in myself I wish them not to die.
But what can I do on this cold dark night.
Nothing really, these days I'm a little out of sight
I just pick up my pen with a little message to send.
If everyone kills, where will it end?
Just a little message for you my friend
We'll all see each other again in the end.
And I think to myself, What a wonderful world

Worth of a Man


By John Huggins, 2/26/03

Not how did he live, but how did he die?
The world doesnít care, and never asks why.
Silence, only tears as the needle presses in.
No chains around him now,
Just the straps until the end.
The poison flows, then the spirit goes.
To where? Only God really knows.
How do you measure the worth of a man?
I donít think any of us can.
The blood flows. Just like you, he bleeds.
Anguish as I realize what theyíve done.
Some feel accomplishment, I feel none.
The thought replays ďWhat have we becomeĒ?
A little sketch in a newspaper saying itís done.
Maybe for you, but not for some.

Amos King was executed in Florida on 2/26/03

Sentenced 1999


By John Huggins, 5/13/99

It just didnít seem fair,
My being here, and you being there.
But itís all my fault
Because of the bad things I sought.

As I sit here in this lonely cell,
I think of all the people I failed.
I must have been out of my mind,
But it wasnít my choice to leave you behind.

Iíve never tried to erase you from my mind
Because your love was always on time.
I was always bold and sure of myself
Until I was sentenced to die.

It was the coldest day of my life,
As I stood there and watched you cry.
I wanted so badly to hold you in my arms,
To comfort you and reassure you.

I wasnít able to react,
With handcuffs behind my back.
I still remember that day so long ago,
The day our lives ended as I was sent to Death Row.

Unsentenced 2001


By John Huggins, 2001

By now it seems a new day has come,
The Supreme Court has ruled seven to none.
Hot damn, Iím thinking, I get to do it all again,
Well Iíve learned a little bit, this time they wonít win.

It feels pretty good to have another shot at life,
Hell the Supreme Court wrote, it could have been my x-wife.
Maybe justice really isnít all that blind,
This time I hope the jury will use itís mind.

Now, letís see, getting back to you,
Iím sorry baby this is something youíll have to go through.
Try to be strong, and please donít cry
Ever if you here, the State seeks this man to die.

Iím feeling a little bolder now, and more sure of myself.
Iím not out of my mind, and Iím in good health.
Iím ready for this fight, and Iíve learned to hit below the belt,
Iím sad to say, Iíve learned thatís how they play.

Just remember sweetheart, you will always be mine.
Not a day goes by that youíre not on my mind.
This one thing Iíve learned from coming to the Row,
You can take everything from a man, but you canít kill his soul.

Re-Sentenced 2002


By John Huggins, Aug 9th 2002

First it was night, then it was day.
Now the nightmare begins to replay.
A soul of the South, foolish to believe,
Teardrops in time, resting on your cheek.

For sure, For sure, this is no game for the weak.
Not feeling too creative; this may be my worst poem yet.
Equal justice under the law, unless youíre poor.
Then your justice might not be equal at all.

Evidence gone missing, vanished in thin air,
Not a word from the justice bench, all is fair.
Two witnesses who lie, need I ask why?
Any fool can see, they got the wrong guy.

Just not the 12 fools I picked for my jury,
First day, then night, ahead the long fight.
As sure as a rainbow, or the cross on the hill,
Whatever happens now, I hope in Gods will.