Larry Rush, aka, Leroy
AM-2728 S.C.I. Greene
a first contact if you like: LarryRushPA@deathrow-usa.com
, please leave a postal address for response. Thank You
A man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it
only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved friend. In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in
positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in
the right way - an honorable way - in such a position man can, through
thoughtful oontemplation of bis new found beloved friend archieve
My name is Larry "Snoop Dogg" Rush, aka, Leroy Thornas, and I'm a 48-year old
African/lndian American fighting-to-prove-my-innocent Death Row Prisoner., An individualist, critical, analytical,
organic-intellectual. A writer, poet, philosopher, visionary, avid chess-player, and prisoners litigator, that possesses a self-taught critical acumen, which I employ in the struggle for the freedom of both myself and other unjustly incarcerated prisoners"
I im honest, caring, and understanding; seeking not only a pen pal, But most importantly, a friend whom I can mentally travel with
upom a thousand miles of uncharted territory.. Please understand that I'm not just speaking of just any kind of friendship.. The friendship
l'm speaking of is the only thing (besides love, nothing intended) one cannot give too much
of. The friendship I'm speaking of is genuine with a firmness and discipline of its
own for which there can be no substitute; it can never harm, inhibit, or spoil, it can only benefit
If I hear from you, I will tell you of my ideals/ideas, concepts, the overall
primordial function that makes me who I am. If I don' t hear from you, remember don't be the jug and cold water that pour upon yourself - smell the flowers, take in
some sun, dance with the wind and live..
R E A D I T A ND W E E P ! ! !
It is easy for a person to cry out for revenge until they themselves has to promenade in the shoes of the one being
punished. I give you fair warning, further reading will result in perceptional
My name is Larry "Snoop Dogg" Rush, aka, Leroy Thomas, my podium is a
small, concrete, double-barred, narrow, concealed window cell. I am buried alive.
Literally! I claw against the walls of my coffin until my nails bleed In the darkness my moans are no longer controllable and, in the breach of
security, I'rn forced to listen to my cries and its echoes. The effects are psychologically
dismantling. Whatever pillar of strength you manage to smuggle inside the walls and confines of Death Row will inevitably
Then you realize what a hot commodity sanity has become. It's scarce and
infrequent. I personally watched sanity divorce its reasoner. Only to have a man I befriended stare at me blankly without
recognition. As if the fire of his very essence had been extinguished. My God! The need for fellowship is a necessity - a
Bible, Koran, a book on philosophy, novel, (F/NF) newspaper, magazine, radio,
T.V.. a lovely card, a letter, a phone conversation, or a visit from a family or friend can mean the different between the life and death of a personls inner
spirit; it's survival of the personal self.
Whatever judicial vehicle used to transport you here, whether it was an innocent wrongfully
convicted, or the guilty pleading to such, the Death Penalty and its housing
"pods" are unconscionable horrific. It's remarkable in the extreme. Your arrival will result in your disconnection from anything vital. Intimate relationship with family and loved ones will become
inconsiderable. Visitations are privileged and impersonale You'll starve for intellectual stimulation and contract the disease diagnosed as
I suffer from frequent episodes of claustrophobia. I am suffocating in here. I don't want to be
killed. Tell death to quit lying in wait for me ! It's willfully and deliberately premeditating to end my Life.
It's waiting and wishing that I exhaust all of my appeals so it could appear at my cell door with a death warrant from the
governor. I close my eyes and hope that if I don't see its face, maybe it'll
leave me alone. Not too many people walk away from Death Row. It's adamant in
its slaughter. But still my belongings are neatly packed away. Somehow I will
escape its clutches! I'm one appeal away from exoneration. If one day you see
me and I'm still in shackles, I beg of you, let me be. Do not interfere in
what you do not understand. What if they forget to uncuff me? Maybe they left
them on to use me as a deterrent to those around me? The anguish and
torment this place has inflicted upon me is indelible. I'm incessantly
handcuffed to its tragedies and un-riddable memories of executions and those
executed and how I came to being liquidated. If indeed I am truly spared.
I Am - Larry