Bundy the Poet

Here is a poem that Ted Bundy wrote in a letter to Ann Rule back in 1976. I’ve left the spelling as he wrote it.

Night of Days

This is no way to be
Man ought to be free
That man should be me
Talk to the walls
Echoes down the halls
Dream of dreams
An allusion freedom seems
Write thoughts on paper by reams

Toilet flushes
Water gushes
Makes such a noise
Lack of privacy annoys
Nightime sounds
Jailer makes rounds
No freedom abounds
Prisoners are clowns

So the night slowly passes
No wine or wine glasses
No girls to make passes
Just us caged asses
Cards are alright
I play them all night

Sleep comes on slowly
Read the words of the wholly
The scriptures bring peace
They talk of release
They bring you to God
I’m here that seems odd
But His gift is so clear
I find that He’s near
Mercy and redemption
Without an exception
He puts me at ease
Jailer, do what you please
No harm can befall me
When the Savior does call me

I look back on this day
And what can I say
More of my life wasted
No freedom I’ve tasted
7:30 is chow time
At that hour who feels fine
Milk, mush, and toast
Not much of to boast

Sweet the floors
Talk of whores
Hear the thunder of prison doors
Do your chores
Listen to bores
How guys made scores
Or escaped to distant shores

I wrote a letter
That made me feel better
Words to the outside
That’s how I keep my pride
I write words of hope
It’s really no soap
I mean what I say
Where there’s hope there’s a way
I’ll be free some day

I sleep quite a lot
Escape though it’s not
In sleep I don’t care
I forget the night mare
The bars and the screams
Are not in my dreams
I don’t smoke cigarettes
Or have sad regrets
This sleep liberation
Is tranquil salvation