Prisoner Express Poetry Anthology Volume 21

Gary Farlow

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org The hallway mirror echoed back a dreadfully shocking sight. The image was gaunt and shallow- young eyes so full of fright! The first face of Domestic Violence

I had ever witnessed was that of Words my own reflection. By Phillip Johnson Crumpled and beaten; eyes

swollen shut; lips flat and puffy; “A lot of meaning into a short form.” crimson from a cut. Pulling it from me, Small hands flailing- common something sense abating- cursed tears Different and outside the “norm.” betraying. These words… “Poor little Momma’s boy!” The They consume me, bringing to light, antagonist said with malice. things. “You dammed little cry baby! I Long hidden; never heard and should have named you Alice!” deep. Broken lip- sinking ship. Blue eyes These words so full of sorrow. Can be light, but heavy; connecting Home wrecker- heartbreaker- Others with me, John Ponder Daddy, will you hurt us more After all, these words, and I, have tomorrow? A love affair. Domestic Violence

They attach us with our ancestors These are two more faces of And antiquity The Faces of Domestic Violence Domestic Violence that my future As we both utilize this air; By Bobby Bunderson would borrow… connecting Divorce! Ugly and loud. Through one, in spirit, and one, in Deep, Slumber. Childhood blissful Lives lived under this malicious body wonder. Ceased Forever. cloud. These words… A slap! A scream! A crash! Both remarried- again… and Spoken and written; together, in Unbridled confusion. Discord in a again… Same old song and dance. this flash! Same old violent sin. Love affair, they Frightened innocent eyes struggling My friends were: abandonment- Free me. to pierce the blackness of night. resentment and anger out-of- Not just physically, but mentally; A young heart breaking- perceiving control. Allowing others to see his mother’s plight. Preachers were always preaching Our love affair. Liken to that of a newborn foal- legs son- “Ye shall reap what ye shall “Words,” woddle- struggling to stand upright. sow!”... Be my gift, to a humanity, in The boy slinks like a criminal Wedding bells and marriage bliss/ I Search of outside his night. said I do with a poisonous kiss. Meaning; Lungs filled past bursting with The birth of our first daughter. The A humanity hoping courageous air- inching himself A-B-C’s and 1-2-3’s. Playing on the These words forward as fast as he could dare. teeter-totter. Can; spiritually; sincerely; Long and narrow the ominous Morals, virtues, and ethics are the Express, what it means corridor loomed ahead- concealing lessons that I should have taught To be: calamities, danger, strife, and her. A human being. dread! Yet instead. She has to witness the Yet defiantly the small toy soldier violence which I had to release. continued to advance- braced to Never a man, a husband nor a dad, fight in advocacy, he would make a I had become the beast! final stance! 2

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

You bitch! You whore! You stupid Will we leave a toxic legacy? Arizona a mooring cunt! To our children’s destiny And Utah is sticky with mud Words which roared like thunder. We need to slow down and realize Surely this is not what the preacher To awaken and open our eyes Watch as the oceans keep rising meant when he said: let no man put No longer a guess or surmising asunder… Now you can surf Divorce- both remarried, again, and FINGERPRINTS Where Denver once turf again. Same old song and dance, By James Washington III Or so said the guy was advising same old violent sin. The cycle of Domestic Violence Broke within, falls lonely leaf Where isn’t a flood epic snowing ends now! Lonesome life can see no one They’re sledding where once they No more faces. No more scars. Let Hear these silent leaves were rowing there be peace under God’s Disconnect of family trees That Ivy league school glorious stars. New meaning to cool With each pluck seasonal And Three Mile Island still glowing Wing gust create the need Environmental Poems That leaves the ground relieved And once again taking our lumps Trapped the system-eco pleased With Chicken pox, measles, and Awaken mumps By an unknown author Rage voiced pleasantly begs and I see in the Hague pleas A brand-new type plague Man wishes to equal all of God’s Face the rake who bag its deeds Boils and cysts on our rumps… creativity Knots and ties or locks and keys In some ways we are fine Fallings are rigged traces it L Our medicines no longer killing When mankind is inclined E Germs once were able and willing But then with overwhelming A Where once were competing sadness V The winner flesh eating It rains down like thunderstorms of E To say getting better at illing madness S Sweeping us into anger and grief No matter the scrubbing or cleaning We feel despair without relief Bacteria stubborn, demeaning Wash, Rinse, Repeat, Wash, Look at what we have done Rub-a-dub-dub Rinse, Repeat… What we have created, what we That’s staph in your tub By Michael Griffis have become There isn’t no time to be leaning

Look at all the years of destruction I’ve mentioned again and again The acid rain and chemical With every new drug new disease How often and to where and when production On ticks and mosquitos and fleas Now I see coming We build nuclear weapons out of Now when you tan Disaster so numbing hand You need DEET and fan

When drugs run rapid across our Ebola is carried on breeze It’s tough putting paper to pen land It’s ungodly fires and drought We have smog alerts and Healthcare will be in the sewer Bout after bout after bout greenhouse gasses The healthy will be even fewer The fires so grand Will life on our planet slowly fade Doctors and nurses Once forest now sand Our natural resources the price we Cast hexes and curses Removing if any that doubt paid An old-fashioned poultice for cure

We need to slow down and realize Where isn’t a drought is a flood To awaken and open our eyes Seemingly now after checking The water too teaming with crud We are destroying our home It’s not just the future we’re It’s raining, it’s pouring Now our future is unknown wrecking 3

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org It’s here and it’s now In her eyes there was no limit to the The Firstborn It’s Lyme and Mad Cow love I always found. By Julia Tomlinson It’s too many folks what the Pools of affection with enough to hecking! always go around. He arrives with a lusty cry In those eyes I’ve seen joy, Already the apple of his parents’ Family happiness, and cheer. eye But I also saw sadness, Cheeks so plump, waving fists

disappointment, and fear. My Dad Rosebud mouth and hair just wisps. By William James Jonas III Through the world was full of Tomorrow the babe will disappear,

smokescreens, fables, and lies, Replaced by a toddler with curling Larger than life, is a cliché I could always find the truth of life in hair; Always for me, that’s you each day my mother’s eyes. Then off to school, playing ball, Others were coach, you’re my At times I would fail and find Slamming doors and breaking biggest fan understanding there, hearts Loving support, the model man That told me no matter my follies, As he seemingly breaks all else in Loss of control, you did not teach she’d still care. his path I picked that up, beyond your reach When I was tempted to give in and To his folks’ dismay and often their But you were there, stood in the meet my demise. wrath. breach I found the encouragement to fight Baseball, cars and then one day- Helped me heal up, and never in my mother’s eyes. girls. preached Onward, ever onward he whirls Endured the drama, that has been When my tears fell unchecked in Until one day-- She appears my my times of emotional pain Awakening their deepest fears Path Just one look in her eyes was For the Boy is suddenly whisked A safe place to cry, the best place enough to stop the rain. away to She always gave me the comfort “I do” in a voice so strong and deep Laugh my heart would need That yesterday was so light and Tested, pestered, disappointed let So I could find the willpower to sweet Down proceed. To the girl beside him and they Without showing anger you still A woman of constant Intrigue and suddenly face stuck surprise The fact that their boy has been Around There were wonderful mysteries in replaced To listen be helpful and providing a my mother’s eyes. By this Man, that he has somehow Plan grown While showing the meaning of At times I was acorned, abandoned Now with wife, family, his own father and extremely hated, home And man Left alone to endure the misery to And they are to be left behind One thing is quite certain, I don’t which I was fated. With only memories of a happier meet your Best I was beaten, broken, and time You gave me the goodness and unmercifully abused When he filled their lives, their forgave the rest People’s actions and words leaving hearts, their home.

me scared and confused. But that is over, and he is gone. My Mother’s Eyes I walked the world alone from By Bernard Wroblewski sunset to sunrise THE FAMILY (Shadow) But I find a place of belonging in my By Chris Williams

mother’s eyes. As my soul crumbles and emits its As a young couple spoke mournful cries Of their new adopted son. My heart finds peace in the As they talked of things they’d do memories of my mother’s eyes, In all the days to come. 4

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

I could feel all their joy But, before you make your choice, Freedom and Loneliness Through the expressions on their Let me tell you what I’m gonna do. face Let me explain the pain and And I thought of all the ups and suffering, Freedom and Pain downs Your only son will go through By Gary Farlow That’d soon be taking place, He’ll be beat and abused, I listened to their laughter, He’ll be tormented with hell I stand in the vastness I heard the excitement in their He’ll be spit on and flogged The sea in front and sand behind, voice. And to a Cross he’ll be nailed. A seagull soars and a crab tries to I knew deep inside He’s gonna be crucified with hide, This all started with a choice. thieves, I feel small surrounded by such Everyday we all make choices On that Cross he will DIE. grandeur. And with each one there’s a price. That’s the cost of this one’s soul, My spirit flies with seagulls In everything we do or say, Som do you still want to buy? And know freedom with no limit; There’s always a sacrifice. My father softly said, My heart hides with the crab This reminds me of my Father “Yes, I’ll pay his sinful price” As it creeps to the edge and can go The greatest man to ever live. “I’ll send my son Jesus, no further, It makes me think of the sacrifices, As a living sacrifice.” It disappears in the small cramped That he too had to give. But Satan, just so you know, space for one, See, my father also made a choice, His death will by no means be the Just as I can go no further than A long long time ago. end. wire mesh But, then he made a showing, For the third day after his burial, And retreat into my own shell, a Of how far his love will go. I’ll raise JESUS again!! cell, Back then my owner was evil, My father’s promise to this world is Where darkness surrounds, fear He brought physical and mental If you will just believe. paralyzes pain. He’ll wait with arms wide open, And pain reigns. He swore no one would ever want Welcoming you to the family... me Not Alone And told me he was my only gain. By Jevon Jackson I used to sit and think of different ways to try to escape. Loneliness But, everything I tried failed, Is not a big empty house So I accepted that as fate. It could be a hundred people Every night I’d bow my head, Crowded all around you I’d pray the Lord my soul to keep. Cloned in the chicanery Then I’d curl up on the floor Of wax, plastic smiles; And cry myself to sleep. So, I never will forget Loneliness The day my Father came. Is not a thousand miles from here He said, “I choose him,” Over and yonder and through Then he called me by my name. The woods The owner said, “now wait, It could be I’m not sure I’ll let him go. A week of silence But, if you “really” want him, With the wide and thriving The price will not be low. Sun; My father said, “I LOVE HIM” Brandon Rushing

I know I want that one. Loneliness The owner said, “Okay” She could be The cost, your only son. Solitude’s most cherished daughter

Who’s come to collect her kisses, 5

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org The love you give Now there is only one choice for My tiny brain I try to use to escape When there is nothing left me This nightmare, my reality or just To confound you I growl in protests and enter a rage my pain I discharge some magic, two levels Purchased with joy and much love Lonely Adventurer in mage Like merchandise am I to think of By Matthew Morton Tears are small, they can’t be seen As they close in I notice their worry My screams are small, what does Only a human and my limit break’s The destruction I deal, no need to this mean out hurry I’ll behave, please open the door My XP bar’s short, here enters However, I notice they’re running If I fly away I may be shot to the doubt away floor The inventory’s dry and gold is low Not from me, something else in the Our time on earth has a meaning Map unavailable with nowhere to fray Someone shared a little secret go So I’ll keep singing I see one monster take off in the air I wonder if they’ll like this tune? In Clan or party, I wasn’t interested It speaks in its tongue, ‘this isn’t It’s one I made up just this Why split the treasure, I’ve never fair’ afternoon been bested A bright light follows and it burst God help me, I want my freedom Most evil I face despises my aflame Once heard someone say; what if essence The others start shouting, ‘I hate we eat’em? Common creatures flee from my this game!’ Almost lost my nerves presence My feet on a limb, at the edge of The rest try to flee in many the curb These beasties however, aren’t directions It’s been a short while normal at all The stranger and I make clear our Since I left my cage into the clouds Outweigh me thrice and two times intentions Have to watch for predators, not as tall I give her a potion before she could only my words Horns like my axe, claws just as fall Who, who are you talking to? keen We level up twice, killing them all Oh just this Lonely Bird... Eyes shining red and teeth glowing green She thanks me and smiles, so Black Hole of My Mind casual and sweet By Patrick J. Pantusco If only I had the presence of mind I feel warmth go from my head to To not leave all my resources my feet Between Heaven and Hell, are the behind Never before have I traveled with realms of my mind. Money in the bank does me no friends Labyrinths to a world, which is one good Now, here’s to hoping that it never of a kind. I’m all alone and I’ll die in this ends Acres of darkness, an all- wood consuming black sea, Clocks ticking backward, n’ my only The monsters that swarm press friend is me. their advance Knowing it’s not real, doesn’t help Even attempted escape has zero me to cope, chance Two potions left, no reason to use Hanging on for life, to a barbed- The next traveler may need the A Lonely Bird wire rope. refuge By Richard Atkins, Jr. Only those who have journeyed, down a similar path, Better for them, t’would help them Tell me why I’m alone, in this cage Legitimately understand, all of this flee My owners are somewhere not pain that I have. realizing my fate 6

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

Emptiness swallows me, and I feel Sleepy. It feels as if you will never For days, weeks, months, and all alone, win, years. Against the days and the years Stuck so near the door, where you Overwhelmed and neurotic, in this That press upon you. can smell twilight zone. And taste the air they share, sense Familiar voices speak volumes, But, suddenly, the stars they see: and you right which only I hear, The unexpected surprise: someone with all that you have arrives! With your every effort. Your legs Mercilessly taunting, until I cower in You are not alone in the dark and arms fear. enclosing room, Long grown numb to the lonely Yearning to feel normal, but as you And there is light, for the first time plight you endure. can see, In years, as they kneel beside you to help Persevere Merely being normal, was never an Fight against the push and the Derrick Bartulio option for me. turmoil I’m sick of the sadness, but I’m Upon your soul. They pinky What gives us the strength to used to the pain, promise, and odd, endure Nay destined to live strapped, to Childlike things to do; but, it’s there. Is hope enough or can we be sure this runaway train. Their dibs placed upon you. You We don’t have ot be certain where Do you now see, in me what you’ll rest the waves of life will take us find? Your tired limbs each day, as you Jesus died on that cross so God I’m a prisoner confined, in both inch will forsake us. the BLACK HOLE OF MY MIND. Closer to the door, together: you will be outside Many live lives full of Hope Arm in arm, hand in hand, when disappointment, suffering, and that day comes. death and all we get is hope Morning True, but with the faith that we can Julia Tomlinson Then, suddenly, find love, that’s our Christian shot The expected show drops, only six of dope Shades of gray, pink and blue, days in: Love is God and we should be Sparkles of flashing from drops of A buzzing just outside the door, convinced our father never fails dew, A phone set aside, gets their Like that time in the storm, Jesus Air so sweet, pure and crisp, attention, and they go, said have faith and set sail Wispy tendrils of pearly mist. A phone set aside, gets their These are the sights of early morn attention, and they go, Don’t be a hearer that forgets or a And I, like the day, feel reborn. Run through the threshold out of doer who never acts sight. Just pick up the bible and take a hit The walls press in, and you are of that spiritual crack The Weight of Hope & Promise unprepared, your hope We need to feign for the Lord and Johny E. Manhaffey Was up! You call, and you call, but inhale the holy spirit there is no one Then pick up a trumpet and blare You are holding back four walls There. It gets to your birthday, and the good news so that the whole With all that you’ve got. They are you try world hear it. close, To remember the time before, the And pressing ever so intently dibs upon you. As a degenerate gambler, I’m against you, programmed to calculate the odds And your every effort. Your legs You are holding back four walls God made in in his image so we and arms That press ever presently, and it must love and forgive like we are all have long grown tired, and you are goes on Gods so terribly 7

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org 1st Corinthians instructs us to be Brushed under the rug, that Loss steadfast, immovable and carpets pews, abounding in the Lord Sitting there looking smug, The Darkest Night Let me tell you a secret, we don’t we are two in one, By Devin O’ Keefe need armor or an army, all we need Songs never sung, exiled, is a bible, God’s sword, far flung My phone rings, One mentally, one I yawn, stretch and Our fleshly lives are short and physically, both restrained, Check the caller ID carnal death is near Contained, and disdained, To my delight, it’s Dana from work God promises he who endures will for being who we are, Hair of the blackest night be saved, so always persevere So close but yet so far Lips of the deepest crimson, Just like wet blood Identity Inspiring Poems

I AM… FROM I do not believe I answer with a cheerful hello by Derrick Lynn “Wanna see a movie?” she asks in I Am From tree lined streets, full of a big brick houses home i do not believe in dying Silky tone To lots of big families. I am from from green to red to yellow An activity that changes me forever open windows and unlocked to brown to black I take charge like napoleon, Doors. Bicycles left outside all beneath footsteps that It becomes my waterloo night. Friends and neighbors have forgotten every memory of With the movie my choice, who treat each other right. I am you. I drive my rusty blue Chevy, from dream big work hard i do not believe in drowning That rattles and bellows good family values. Good manners submerged in baptismal Black smoke from the exhaust and grammar. I am from ugly pools of pain I see her standing there, diverse, rapidly changing times! gagging on wormwood Hair pulled behind delicate ears Home invasions, guns, drugs, words, clawing for the vanishing Her face reflecting the soft homicides. I am from loss of civility, light. moonlight and mass moral decay. i do not believe in dissolving A smile brighter than the stars 6 am from unkept yards, shattered from hate to fear to misery windows, shattered dreams to surrender to regret The drive is smooth, like a polished Broken homes and broken lives. I into dry-ice statues of hope Stone am from hope pushed further blown by the breeze. I ask for two tickets to, the Dark away with each passing day. I am i believe in dominating Knight from increasingly violent conquering life with If only I turned back, crimes and toxic water lines… I AM objective moonlike sway Used a different strategy from Welch Blvd. I AM… so that storming sea tides Waterloo, tied around me From…. Flint…. still heed my every beckon. Like a hangman’s noose i do not believe in dying Untitled #68 because perched on my I pull out my snakeskin wallet By Jack E. Dyson soul’s windowsills Pay for two cokes, rest tears the color of Two greasy popcorn Lovelorn, in this jungle of forever And a box of skittles steel and concrete, chanting hurt to hurt I choose our seats Forlorn, melancholy is what “All that withers isn’t old.” The movie begins I excrete, The terror descends Unborn, the ideas that I keep, Shots ring, Hidden from view, askew, Shrill screams all around me 8

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

I turn around and I carefully collect her every tattered See him there, The Girl from South Spokane ribbon from the dark Like a black knight By Jevon Jackson And, gentle, revive them all into wide bright bows, Coming to steal the light She only loves me when she’s “In a hundred years,” I answer, “I’ll I go to push Dana down lonely, be there But the bullet is faster The girl from south Spokane. In a hundred years, my dear.” Time slows, blood flows When the echoes of her house are I hold her right empty Slowly, she survives There in the aisle She climbs into my prison Beyond boyfriend number five, Chaos all around With bubblegum pink polish on her She is blessed to find another But all I see toes, To sow her fields, grow Happiness, Is the light Berry blossoms for lips smacked And in this distance, we are distant, Leave her soft blue eyes together (same ol’ song, jazzy blues) The darkest night, Like the inside of a warm, sweet, Of my life cherry pie, She only loves me when she's And the smoothest length of legs lonely I lost more than Living eyes will ever see in eighty Yet, I The battle of Waterloo degree heat, Practice for her love at every chord, Haunted by screams in my head “I want to get your name, right Every beat My phone rings here--” she said, I just wait for, Two fingers pressed against the Real Love The ringing to stop hillsides of her bosom By Jeremy Geniuk Three weeks after the disaster with Love boyfriend number three; Every day I wonder And I plead with the one above, She only loves me when she’s To allow me one more chance, lonely, With the one I dearly love. When pain has elected to use all its Your smile is like a rainbow; weapons It’s filled with warmth and glee; against her heart, her mind, her That laugh of you makes me glow, wonder, She writes me six-pages deep If I won the lottery! About how boyfriend number four is I never will forget that day a great big snore, When I first saw your face, And I listen to awaken the Light My heart stopped, skipped a beat, inside her, shine, And then began to race! Even after she disappears for I’d never known true happiness stretches of time Before I was with you. Unaccounted for, by Faith and Without you here, by my side, Reason; I’m not sure what to do! This time apart has been, She only loves me when she’s Just like an evil witches spell. lonely, I’ve been depressed, angry, and When her husband number one sad; succumbs to lust that unwinds I’ve hurt and hurt like hell. The soft, silky ribbons of her soul, No matter what the future brings, Nate A. Lindell She asks me, with a tone full of I hope it includes you a LOT!!! towering sorrows, Not having you in my life is “When are you coming home?” comparable, 9

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org To a story without a plot! But maybe if you took a look at It’s because it’s been tended and I hope one day to show you, yourself, mowed. Just how much you mean to me; You would find what exactly has A good horse’ll die if she never gets To give you more love and changed. fed. happiness, She wasn’t just meant to be rode. Than you thought you’d ever see! Now, you didn’t used to call on that As I end this poem, I wish for you to girl So, bring her some candy; write her know, With chicken hanging out of your a poem. My heart is yours, if you’ll allow, teeth, Treat her like she’s still your bride. And together, we will grow! Your pants undone and your hair And that old lump of coal you Hard times will come and it won’t not combed thought was burned out be easy; With whiskers you’ve had for a Might still be a diamond inside. I won’t even try to life; week. Just know with certainty you’re in Ask God to help you to care for her my heart. You’d take three baths and put on needs, And for you, I’d gladly die! cologne, And make her the queen of your Until the time comes about, Shine your shoes and wax your world. When fate will seal the deal, car. And when you fall for her...just like Know, without a single doubt, Then, you’d stand at a mirror and you did before, work on your hair You’ll know why you married that Till you looked like a Hollywood girl. star. A Light in My Life You’d take three baths and put on By Matthew Morton cologne, Shine your shoes and wax your The darkness entices as I go car. insane Then, you’d stand at a mirror and I try to fight the demons in vain work on your hair The strength of an army, inside my Till you looked like a Hollywood mind My love for you is real! star. The control to use it, I never could find Edward Rodriguez You’d buy her candy and flowers A rush in my blood, a feeling so and gifts pure Diamonds, Horses, And Grass And ask her what she’d like to do. There’s no way in hell I’d ask for a Bob. H. Cook Now, you drop in a chair and turn cure on the game If you find yourself losing the joy in While she brings your supper to A battle I never wanted to choose your life you. More often than not, I purposely And your blessing is more like a lose curse You’d brag on her cooking’; you’d To give in to darkness as it purrs And you wonder what’s wrong with brag on her looks, my name that sweet little girl And she did the same in return. Other’s opinions won’t put me to That you’ve taken for better or Now, the only time you even notice shame worse, at all And no worry or care for anything Is if she happens to let somethin’ at all You look at her now and hear burn. Normally I’m weak but, with it I’m yourself say, tall “All she does is gripe and If the other man’s grass is greener complain.” than yours, I see a light in the distance, my power’s deflating 10

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

It wants to help me? That sounds As my daydreams tease me, my Returning your care again and so degrading beautiful wife again I don’t need your help, I’m perfectly Or giving back pain for pain fine My Photograph Content drowning in my river of By Don Hughes A Basic Fundamental of Love brine By Bob H. Cook I realize, I made it myself; from I have a photograph (For Mary) tears And its image is of you. And tugging me below are the No one may duplicate. The teardrops in her eyes depths of my fears My picture-perfect view. Should come as no surprise When you tell her just how much Never before would I shout out a My camera is a special one, she means to you. plea Though many are the same. For ladies seldom hide Loneliness was perfectly fine for Mine only pictures you, The way they feel inside me In every snapshot frame. It’s something they were just not Then one day you appeared in the made to do. night Each shot of you I take Each simple, little token Now I see why people come to the The negative turns our fine. Or word that’s sweetly spoken light The film roll’s never ending, Will cause her heart to flutter like a A radiant flash and the darkness I rewind it all the time. dove. was flayed And if you get sentimental, You came to me and vanquished My photo lasts forever the shade A It’s not coincidental It’s a basic fundamental of I never knew that before, I was ---- maybe love. certainly lost Now to stay from that course, I’d A starry night in June pay any cost Love Is Like A Perfect Rose And a big, old yellow moon To have you, my light, in my By Julia Tomlinson Are Little things that money cannot presence abide buy. Forever, my angel will stand at my Love is like a perfect rose And on a night like this side Whose gentle scent beguiles the If you should steal a kiss I’d give you my heart with my bare nose, Don’t be surprised if she should hands Whose petals open graceful and start to cry. And to darkness I’d never give its prim For hearts will find a way demands Revealing wonders buried within That words could never say But underneath this Beauty rare To let her know the things you’re Think of it a check you may never Lurk thorns to pierce deep those dreaming of. cash who dare And things so sweet and A possible ride I would never let Approach too close and grasp too gentle crash tight Will seem so A course in this life that could come Seeking to take this Beauty with transcendental to be Might. It’s a basic fundamental of If you so choose, when finally I’m But take away the piercing thorn love. free And once again behold the form I promise you babe, I’m up to the Of Beauty rare and Joy to share (Bridge) task With tender loving care. A heart is not a heart until My biggest fear is that never I ask it’s broken And that I could’ve had you, forever For love is like the perfect rose A man is incomplete in life That languishes in sweet repose without a wide.

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org Never let your feelings go How can I paint it with a mind so Watching scenery of cities and unspoken. clouded fields of sunflowers For these will be the best That I can no think. days of your life. We often have conversations that The chips are down, even my are deep Here’s hoping that today patience are thin, Or sometimes choose to watch and Will never go away Do I roll the dice of the roulette not speak And love will last until the end of wheel I spin. These visions always have a time. Time after time I ask myself again, feeling of home But if today should end If it is true love, we’d be together When we’re just holding each other And never come again thru thick and thin. and aren’t so alone It’s memory will never leave your So I paint this canvass beginning mind. as if I’m blind, With a blinding flash and audible And though you drift apart Trying to create a lovely picture of pop That one who owns your heart memories Reality brings fantasy to a sudden Will always be the one you’re From that lethal weapon, my mind. pop thinking of. Hoping and praying sugar coated But someday from prison I’ll be way What seems so incidental canvass mountains, Gone Can be so monumental And rose petaled stairs will take me Then I’ll help build a snowman on It’s a basic fundamental of to places your lawn love. Heavenly, and you my Mona Lisa will always be there. I See You By Edward Cotton

A Simple Fantasy Like the sun you are Shine so bright, you do I can’t wait for the day Like the wind, your I’m finally free blow When in person your Full of exhilaration, you are face at last I’ll see Look into my heart, you can And we can walk Speak beautiful words, you beneath the stars in the should sky Make me smile, you can Even dance together in Keep laughing, you the full moon light should Make me think, always Until the time these Think about wishes come true you, constantly Edward Rodriguez Dreams, pictures, and letters will Miss you so much, seriously have to do Seems like a As will fantasies in which we’re year, everyday Blank Canvass laughing out loud Seeing you By Michael L. Thomas Watching a movie while plopped mature, memories

down on the couch Each poem you write, touching The chips are down, the lights are Such beautiful dim I use my imagination to pass the words, unbelievable Does my heart stop beating? Is this day Trapped in this life you the end? And climb with you aboard a train Your smile The future is wide open, its I hold you close as we pass the Your thoughts canvass is blank, hours Your laughter I see you 12

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

I really do For all of your love I’ll give There’s an intended guilt trip, by unending devotion some bitches who gossip; Like the promise of waves that An attempt at character come from the ocean assassination.

Ocean Shores and Boulevards Burns Con artists with bad breath, that By Matthew Morton By J. David Brackett could cause an early death Have an agenda of Taking a stroll, gulls screech up Only by the beating of my heart do I misrepresentation high know that I’m alive. For them it’s life or death, to smoke Pay meter tolls as time passes by On the other side of the looking crack or maybe meth, Clock always ticks, by no means glass is a world I long to feel. And they’ll only settle for aware Down the river of Teardrops how I intoxication. Sand beneath toes, weather’s quite close my eyes so not to see. fair They believe they’re shrewd, but Traffic lights passed, in shoes we If she were to awake and find me their game is too crude, tread there, who would my lady see? And this fact needs little Water on shore, bare feet instead Would flowers bloom, would vocalization. Seldom, fish jump, infrequent songbirds sing, would the world I’m not always in the mood, to deal splash come suddenly back alive? with childish attitudes, A few blocks away, screaming cars Or has distance, time and darkness crash numbed that love we used to feel? So I just cope by taking medication. Your hand rests in mine, our sandals behind Can a flame forget, where deeply Welcome to the machine. You’ll Crosswalks we march, our fingers burns, its birth by embers’ feel? spend some money on canteen, entwined Unlike a fire’s relentless scourge, And this amplifies my aggravation. Shrilly we speak over the noise of quickly we lose sight of what we do I don’t make it my routine, to eat all the crowd not see. the prison cuisine. But we whisper with waves, no And only by the flames’ reflection This may be risking hospitalization. need to be loud do I know that I’m alive. Through many different places we’ll Here I must confess; I sometimes traverse It burns to see, it burns to feel, it mentally undress Some may be tolerable, with others burns to be alive. This actress on the television far worse station With your hand in mine, you by my Distractions I’m not one to obsess, but there’s side By Benjamin Harrison an element of stress; And between ourselves we could My release nears and there’s always confide To begin most days in prison I’d anticipation On the quietest beaches, or busiest just actually decide, streets To minimize all of my socialization. Many years I’ve spent, throughout Oh, the things we’ll accomplish, But there’s no field guide, for this long imprisonment improbable feats dealing with a blindside As the target of an investigation. All doubt is defeated, all worries are Insult which may result in The charges they can invent; For banned altercation. them I have no comment; By the might your grant me by These are all just false accusations. holding my hand Opportunists exploiting one- The beauty will stay, even after upmanship; braggarts on an ego It’s unhealthy to depend, on mail hard pains trip, from family and friends, Like ugly graffiti on straight Proceed endlessly with Yet this has caused me much boulevard lanes exaggerations. frustration

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org I’ll find a new girlfriend and the where freedom and liberty are not Emotions can be all-consuming relationships I can mend; just ideals but a way of life… They can also be the lifeboat that I’ve stuck this out through its saves us duration I imagine a world where knowledge Keeping our souls from drowning and higher education are the amongst oceans of uncertainty Much older I’ve now grown, in a inheritance of all people. I imagine Hopefully love throws me a world of brick and stone a world where who I choose to be lifesaver And I’ve now come to a realization with is none of your business. I My actions cannot be condoned, imagine a world where religion is Poetry for blogs but the fault is not mine alone. practiced more and preached less. Mine was an unjust vilification I imagine a world where children Prey can grow up without fear of By MarQui Clardy, Sr. Corruption and Tears judgement because they’re By Zion L. Thomas different. I imagine a world where It’s crazy the things we perceive as we no longer allow juveniles to important For every man that dies grow old and die in prison… … chasing a dollar, we lose a A son shall rise fortune For every truth be told I imagine a world without poverty, Follow the American Dream is what It’ll be met with lies violence, drug addiction, child we’re taught, then For each woman AIDS touches abuse, prostitution, 3rd class We set out on our paths, but we A generation shall cry citizenship, borders, prisons, take different courses For every politician who smiles oppression, and hypocrisy. A world ...some lead to misery It’s just a disguise where the institution of marriage is Others lead to wealth and For every drug indulged the property of all human beings, a prosperity You’ll be lost on a high world where what I am doesn’t The poor man sell his soul for a For every appeal put forth define who I am… dollar A judge will deny While the rich complain, “More Sometimes I wonder Question: Can you imagine what “I money, more problems” Why even try imagine”? Insensitive culprits… Tears flow from my eyes The tongue weighs nothing, yet so Till my soul goes dry Emotion few people can hold it Wondering if I… By Nathan J Boles You’re never satisfied until you Wondering when I can only see that blessing in the Will be free from life’s burdens Emotional waves to wash away my past, in your rearview And enter the sky complacency Case in point, I’m waiting to break Keeps me entertained most days in hip-hop ‘spent the last couple On others it drives me closer to the years casing the joint “I Imagine: edge of insanity Got a perfect strategy to go and By Scott Solovic Those budding flowers of hate, make some noise anger, and jealousy… But this barbed-wire fence I imagine a world where war is not Love, compassion, and mercy separates my voice an sprout from my branches I’m like the tree that fell in the Option. I imagine a world where Some bloom, some I pluck before forest, nobody’s near me racism and sexism no longer exist. their poison devastates my roots What good are these words if I imagine a world where politicians Some I choose to feed; others I nobody can hear me? serve the well of the people. I starve ...I refuse to honor that fate imagine a world where democracy Some I barely recognize Forget “gate break,” I need to break is the only form of government. I “Oh shit, did that really come out of out of this gate! imagine a world where it’s okay to me?” Shhh… that’s between us have nuclear energy without Looking from the outside in nuclear weapons. I imagine a world Is sometimes terrifying 14

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

What I call planning my future, they Then they asked, where do I and chisel out your art? consider plotting an escape stand? I aid Why do you present to the world Can’t afford to cop another case the discrepancy, punch lines of The work of a hopeless heart? Failure’s at my doorstep, I will not words, literal weaponry Why raise a voice yet choose to become your… prey. Remain apart? Razor wire, fences, cages, this is Why mourn what life’s become? Prison Poems insane! They If it’s over, why start? Might as well bring back the ball and chain Yes, this life sucks in every way Imaginable. Listen, this isn’t to be taken And yes, I’d much rather be lightly, so for a second With my loved ones, undeniable. Disregard my humor, they never But it is what it is because I meant for us to be Screwed up, unchangeable. Free, its written in the So, I must find away to live constitution, this aint no rumor. amongst the horde’s dishonorable.

Working me without pay, and Am I disillusioned, a hypocrite, they barely feed me. Or blind? All parts of the ploy, in attempts Am I searching for a treasure to defeat me. That I will never find? Feeling like they want me to Am I panning through a sea perish, they supply Filled with “pay no never-mind”? No sustenance. Must my daily life be an ever-grind?

Courts give men life plus 30, My soul cannot be tarnished by the that’s to death, and Much that all-surrounds. Steve Feagan Than some, what I’m gone die and I am not the product of the walls come back That have me bound. Not A Dream Finish the sum? I can prosper despite the echoes of By CL Nobles Despair that do resound. Yeah! That nefarious by all means, My hope is not diminished for I Modern Day slavery, there is no Reality! Not Was lost but now I’m found. more reform. A horrific dream. The ink in my poems is tinged with I thought this system was built to Blood, sweat, and tears. rehabilitate This is how I deal with demons, A man, but yet, they plague him, And how I face my fears. degrade him, A Response To “An Inmate’s I write of live, success, and change Strike him down by they right hand. Lament” As a wave of darkness nears. Then it By Jonathan E. Cantero I will not be calloused by the Became a custom and furthermore Specter of forsaken years. customary. Man! Are you surrendered to what They playing the game so you deem inevitable? While we must call for change unsanitary. Are the dreams of even the Whenever injustice has arisen. prison-man unachievable? Our lives are not defined by the Discrimination of colors, Is the living of this steel-barred Injustice we live in. discrimination of wealth Life undeemable? A lot of great minds died to put that So, until we are ascended and take bit on the shelf, Then, why do you toil at the word our rightful seat in heaven, 15

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org We must choose to hold to what is My conscience, its scolded me Its pulseless right and never give in. Its dusted me off A beast It lifts me Emboldens me There’s no way to win Against the cell An Inmate’s Lament I get stuck between ‘Cause it cheats By Gary K. Farlow Lands of stagnation Lost between worlds Life in prison is terrible of delusion The noise level can be unbearable Imagination Our sentences seem unendable Cold slaps of reality But what we eat is indigestible Drag me back to my station Programmers feel we’re incorrigible I live to lie dying And look at us like we’re horrible In eternal The public says we’re unlovable damnation But as taxpayers, they’re being In this concrete room gullible This place that has The health care is deplorable shaped me Our grievances treated as It adds and deletes ignorable It morphs me The parole board says we’re Pervades me unreformable And never will be “normal-able” My chest still throbs

The shrink think we’re unreachable The spirit it fills me While attitudes are impeachable It coerces the pain The rec equipment is unusable It sustains me And staff think we’re abusable It stills me

Policies are unbelievable Purgatory wraps around me Michael Richardson While change is inconceivable Like snakes Shakedowns are uncontrollable I sift through the scum JAILBIRD Our pain is inconsolable Vermin and fakes By WWW Over and over I’ve felt This mess is unforgivable My heart break A sparrow flew in this barn they Let’s face it, life in prison is Wondering how many call a prison dorm; unlivable! Years it’ll take He got locked in this To transcend this concrete box human pen. Cell V Heart Now he’s a prisoner too and I By Damion Jackson This cube of pure darkness haven’t a clue Where monsters are born How to get him back out to The cold his kin. This concrete cell The heartless When he first came he must’a This hell that is holding me thought it a game. This bedlam within I swear my soul is a gift He’s sit on the window and It twists me peep, Its molded me My life is forfeit, but my will, it While outside the glass, friends and Through, my heart still pounds persists family would pass, To battle this lifeless thing 16

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

And they’d visit with many Back to the sun and the We are ONE common people, a tweet. sky. With ONE common goal: But, they don’t come anymore, and I’ll continue to feed him as others To get back to our Families, our he can’t find the door; seek to bleed him, Lives, and our souls! Family and friends have … I’ll never understand But how can any of us succeed in flown. why. life He flew the wrong way just one When all we do is judge each other fateful day; A Conversation for the Prison and fight? Life as he knew it is gone. Nation By William Chandler Byers- Instead of working in Combination At first, he’d sing ever’ mornin’, Augusta To correct our Situation celebratin’ the dawnin’; Through Hard work and His song brought joy to my I’m disgusted! Rehabilitation, life. By a system that sucks, Perseverance and Determination, But some other hard men purely Whose concern is big bucks And uplifting Communication. hated the din, And is so damn corrupt! We continue supporting a nation And this caused dissension Who’re enjoying nice family and strife. I’m disgusted! vacations Some bullies in here have made it That men are locked away, While we sit and rot in real clear While they hope and they pray, condemnation They want the lonely bird That their families are okay! And condemn our BOTHERS and dead. OURSELVES even more… But, damn! What they say, each I’m disgusted! passing day That when I look around, It has to END… Are YOU Willing to I smuggle my buddy some The ones bringing us down, be the Change? bread. All us BROTHERS in brown, It’s been over a year that bird’s Are ourselves… been here, What Prisoners Are Made Of Circling in wary flight. We poke and we prod, By J.E. Mahaffey The tough guys throw stones to We joke and we nod. break his small bones; Bringing hate to situations, Each refer to themselves as men- I’ve barely avoided a flight. Instead of rehabilitation. testosterone, penis, muscle, hair - what Through quiet, lonely night I see We judge and point fingers saying “defines” physicality; him in flight “He’s worse than me!” Each are grown, fully formed, Forty feet up by the beams An we stab each other up over except for the few As I lay on my back on this hard nationality. Brought in as boys metal rack, (convicted children) held here He soars, but sadly, it We have race wars and change Against moral. Each are men- seems. wars, hands, feet, minds Under the constant lights, City wars and gang wars, unmolded- putty for the searching, circling flight, Wars about clothes, money, and system Driven by hope to survive, music. Each prisoner is not made the He yearns to escape from the fear Wars about religion, sexuality, and same. Each are and the hate, politics. Jaded, yet erect; lost, yet, Through hope he continues fated. to strive. But my BROTHERS, I ask you… Each are fright and fear, regret, and I pray that one day we’ll all find a Why are we shame. way fighting each other? A montage of human emotions

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org Gone extreme, at the least I hold men who have been long opportune moments. forgotten The aftermath of By the world, callously indifferent; hypocritical fingers when On societal keys, and you may find They face no future but that of a them grave A bit embittered- as to be Starkly numbered in a barren expected. cemetery. Each broken down by the molecular I hold within me the flawed Constituents, unfeeling corresponding to the sub=par food Malformed works of an imperfect They are forced to ingest. That less civilization, of a dog. Men who not long ago knew the Animal. You may find each peace full of hate and And freedom of a warm summer Blame- but, that is in due accord- day treat others The keenly biting freshness of a As you would never treat cold you. The special. Winters nigh, and the welcoming A god/goddess image, pedestalled laugh above the Of a child, men, who now only Intolerant conscience of society, at Lowly prisoner: left to find know times out the true makings Utter desolation of a life unfinished. I am vibrant with contempt for Of his cellulite guarded world, those lost, Fully formed against all Yes, I am the prison and never can When the groping mass grows better. my within me by the day. Viciousness be truly portrayed, to I Am The Prison know it Yes, Yes, I am the prison, where in It must be felt, it must be endured. the I am society’s collector of debts, Smothering confines of my steel and my purse is the I am the faces in the visiting room barred cage bottomless pit of time spent storing Their every word and action That crushes those within, with the the payment of reflecting the weight days totaling the months and years. harsh brooding watchfulness of Of my inhuman reality, where the secreted eyes. endless I am the abode of hope become emptiness of the night and eternal hopelessness, I am the tautly stretched face of the loneliness Of a routine so deadly that the man Of the day destroys those who fall mere act of In prison uniform remembering the victim Living becomes weary -- a numbing ghost To society’s inconscious task judgement. I am the gut searching anguish that I hold within me, men who cling to destroys Repeat life Those who wait daily for the visit Repeat When hope is futile, men who walk that never Repeat my stone-walled Comes, the letter that never My message endlessly Corridors in silent resignation-- in arrives. I am the prison Passive waiting. Always, I am cold and harsh, for I David Corpie am the 18

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

Religion Poems Then I think, “What will the That his flesh and his hunger be future hold fed. Lose When time and fate and life By Marcello Gibbs unfold?” Will faith and hope give away to But before you should judge him Losing yourself to senseless acts too harshly Knowing all alone the Satan will fears? Will childhood laughter turn to And his failure to show self control, attack For what have you traded your Doing drugs to free your mind tears? birthright? Losing focus on the big picture What is the price of your Because you’re going blind Will they find God’s soul? Thinking you can take the pain redeeming grace away And meet their Savior, face to Is your time better spent making But it still exists in your thoughts face? money Willing to lose at all cost Or will they ride the road to Than on children or husband or Went from a believer to a deceiver hell wife? And from winning to sinning Upon the devil’s carousel? Do you struggle in earning a living You suppose to have the heart of a While you’re gradually losing your chamo I pray that life will not suppress life? Believing is achieving That sense of wonder they You’ve been spiked to believe possess, In what Satan’s offering Nor bow their head in sad In your desperate quest to Not realizing it’s only for a moment despair, be happy, God is for eternity A timid fawn in Satan’s Are you anywhere close to your If you want to win, I suggest snare. goal? You choose the right side For what have you traded your birthright? The Carousel Lord, help them What is the price of your soul? By Bob H. Cook not to fall or stray From off that straight and narrow way. Perhaps it’s a pill or a needle ‘Round and ‘round and ‘round she Or a bottle of bourbon or wine. goes, But heaven knows and time will tell How many times have you And where she stops, nobody How fate will turn promised knows. the carousel. That you’re gonna do better next time?

‘Round and ‘round and ‘round she The joyful sound of childhood bliss Has some little sexual Enhances moments such as this. goes, And where she stops, God only pleasure They ride the wind like Robin Hood Destroyed you and taken Upon a stallion made of wood knows. control? Has Lucifer stolen your The handsome steed strides up For What You Have Traded Your birthright? and down Birthright Does he hold the deed to And rides the children ‘round and By Bob. H. Cook your soul? ‘round. And my, but how they swiftly pass Only a small mess of pottage, Sin comes like a beautiful stranger Like sands of time inside a glass! With laughter and money and fun Only a morsel of bread, And Esau traded his birthright Till it robs you of everything sacred

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org And send you to hell when it’s By Bob H. Cook And he’ll never run and play like he done. should.” But God, in his infinite (first chorus) He was standing on a leg made of mercy Five little puppies in the wood. Has suffered that you window, might be whole. Playing and wagging their He said, “You see, Sir, I’m not too Jesus, my friend, is your tails, good at runnin’ either. birthright. There were six altogether, Why, something it’s all that I can do His blood paid the price of but one lagged behind, to stand. your soul. Only five little puppies for. I think I know just how that puppy (recitation) might be feelin’ right now; A little boy walked up to the counter He just needs to have a friend to God Put On A Show And laid down two dollars in dimes understand.” By Bob H. Cook He asked, “Can I please see the puppies you have? (second chorus) I’d like to make one of them mine.” Five little puppies in the I sought the Lord in early spring window, When flowers bloom and robins Then he noticed the price in the Playing and wagging their sing. window tails, I saw His hand in everything Was thirty-seven, fifty apiece. But the sixth one is gone; That happens here below, Then he saw the little puppy that he found him a home, And God put on a show. had been cast aside And there’s five little I sought the Lord one summer’s And said, “Mister, can I see that puppies for sale. day, one, please?” I watched the squirrels and rabbits (tag) play, But the man said, “No son, you’re Though worthless as could The world was such a bright array; mistaken; be, Jesus paid full price for me, The sky was all aglow, I wish I could grant your request. And like a puppy, I’m no And God put on a show. But you see, that puppy’s crippled, longer for sale. I sought the Lord when autumn and he can never run or play. came, No, he’ll never be as good as the rest.” THE ROOM I TRIED TO HIDEBy The leaves were like a fiery flame. Bob H. Cook I heard the mountains call my name The little boy said, “Take my two To where I longed to go, dollars, And God put on a show. And I’ll pay you fifty cents every Once Jesus came to visit me, When winter rested on my brow, week: And I gladly let Him in. The leaves were gone from off the The man replied, “If you want him, I walked Him through the living bough. you can have him for free,” room I heard a wild coyote howl As the child wiped a tear from his And on into the den. Across the driven snow, cheek. The floors were waxed and And god put on a show. shined like glass, Across this land of fire and ice, He said, “Mister, please take my Not a speck of dust in view. I’d gladly take my journey twice, money. But He didn’t notice them For all the world’s a paradise You just can’t give this puppy away, at all; That I’ve been blessed to He’s worth every dime that you’re He just seemed to walk know asking’, and more, right through. And God put on a show! And I’ll be more than happy to pay. The kitchen smelled of lavender; Not a dish was out of place. Five Little Puppies The man said, “Can’t you see that And a picture hand on yonder wall he’s crippled, Of an old man saying grace. 20

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

I asked Him if He’d like to We took the books and But, then he made a showing, sit pictures down Of how far his love will go. While I put on some tea. And burned them one and “Maybe later,” He replied, all. Back then my owner was evil, “Maybe there’s still a lot to Now, my old room of sin and He brought physical and mental see.” shame pain. Then, He stepped back through the Is cleaner than the rest. He swore no one would ever want living room And this old house that Satan me And on into the hall. cursed And told me he was only gain. I pointed out the bible scenes Is a house that God has blessed. In the painting on the wall. And I no longer live alone, I used to sit and think of But he just passed the A slave to lust and pride. Different ways to try to escape. opened rooms For Christ, alone, sits on But, everything I tried failed, And never looked inside, the throne So I accepted that as fate. Till He came upon the Of the room I tried to hide. darkened door Every night I’d bow my head Of the room I tried to hide. The Family I’d pray the lord my soul to keep. “Oh no,” I cried, “Don’t go in there! By Chris Williams Then I’d curl up on the floor It isn’t fit to see.” And cry myself to sleep. But He paid no attention to my As a young couple spoke words Of their new adopted son. So, I never will forget And asked me for the key. As they talked of things they’d do The day my Father came. I fumbled through each key In all the days to come. He said, “I choose him,” I had Then he called me by my name. Till the door swung open I could feel all their joy wide. Throug hthe expressions on their The owner said, “now wait, And I hung my head as face I’m not sure I’ll let him go Jesus viewed And I thought of all the ups and But, if you “Really” want him. The room I tried to hide. downs The price will not be low. There were dirty pictures That’d soon be taking place My father said, “I LOVE HIM” everywhere I know I want that one. Of women and of men. I listened to their laughter, The owner said, “Okay” A thousand books of fantasy I heard their excitement in their The cost, your only son. Held a life of hidden sin. voice. Cans of beer and dirty I knew deep inside But, before you make your choice, jokes, This all started with a choice. Let me tell you what I’m gonna do. My greed, my hate, my Let me explain the pain and pride, Everyday we all make choices suffering, The part of me that no one And with each one there’s a price. Your only son will go through could see In everything we do or say, In the room I tried to hide. There’s always a sacrifice. He’ll be beat and abused, Then, Jesus reached and took my He’ll be tormented with hell. hand This reminds me of my father He’ll be spit on and flogged Like a faithful friend might do, The greatest man to ever live. And to a Cross he’ll be nailed. And He said, “My grace goes deep It makes me think of the sacrifices enough That he too had to give. Social Injustice To clean this room up too.” So side by side, We See, my Father also made a No Power For The People scrubbed the floor, choice, The ceiling, and the wall. A long long time ago.

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org Bumbling Marionette, walking stiff- Predecessor caught in flagrante Oh, but Zeno would be so proud! legged, delicto, Yet praised as God with Apathetic, incapacitated, Possessing spine of gelatinous southern twang, complacent, yet sadly… substance, And good-ole-boy charm… Comfortable in your preoccupation. Appendages manipulated by Proficient in gaucherie and So dummy made of wood and unseen hand, jingoistic vocalizations, draped with cloth Pulled by pellucid filament- truly Yet, safly, inefficientm to a point. Is embodied, empowered, even just a strand- Mundane appearancem so dark in worshipped. Dance this way, now dance that heart, Power to the people? way, POWER IN PROPORTION TO Ho! - But such antiquated notions!!! Raise your hand, now kick up your PROPITIATION leg, Bereft of reason, in delirium, Turn that way, now take a bow- Predestined for ultimate failure. good show Starving the people (Oh, but they When You Prick My Finger (Applause) - - but only By Timothy Lattimore briefly… Seek not selfish ways, When you prick my dummy- finger Do as I say, not as you Do you truly see want- The blood “I” bleed, That is the order of the Not of my own day. But of humanity?

Let us be your guide- When you prick my We’ll show you how- finger, What to say, how to say Do you hear the screams it. Of the elders, the youths, You began as nobody, Of their hopes and none, nothing dreams, Ending the same, yet Of the blood “I” bleed, Stellified by others during Not of my own the interim. But of you and me? Mr. Nobody, Mr. Noone, Mr. Nothing, When you prick my President, Nobody one finger, thing… The poetry unrhymes Though you’d never And the songs are sung know, would you? off key, To you, through you, the For the split blood world turns, Is in mourning, Seasons change and the Not for itself-- sun rises and sets. But for you-- and me. Propagandize the flaccid do, can’t you see? – masses, Antonio Andres Garcia Of the blood “I” bleed, As ever one must, in order Though its voice commanding, To retain your iron-fisted grip, No? No! Of course you don’t, and We fail to listen Tightly pinching, squeezing, people, what is your name? To the wisdom, choking John Q. Stockholm?) The wisdom of the bloodline; Until ejecta is seen- compliance or Your sympathies and attachment coin. expedite your demise- We fail to listen To the blood “I” bleed 22

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

Of Harriet Tubman, The blood flows, My Righteous Nation, has been John Brown, and Hues of A’s, B’s, AB’s and O’s tricked, stolen, and traded Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. -- In a primal coexistence Harsh abuse, till they died, broken The blood of strength, courage; Struggling for oxygen. and degraded. You sing that Freedom song, all We fail to listen Tempted to lick thw ound, day long, yeah we shall overcome! To the blood “I” bleed I must refrain, But overrun, water hosed down, Of Amadou Diallo, I must instead extend my finger now where’s your sight sun? Kimani Grey, and For all to see, We’re feeling restless, whose got Trayvon Martin -- Educate as I bleed the answers to our questions? The blood of potential, possibility; Not of my own Where’s my protector, when these But of theirs, mine… devils come to oppress us? We fail to listen to the blood “I” And yours. They seek to best us, they’re bleed bringing guns and I’m defenseless Of the Holocaust victims, With finger aglow, heart in tow, My God forgive me, blaspheme His The Wounded Knee massacred, Eyes wide sight Name in times of killing! and I pray for the emergence What’s this feeling? They kill our The “Pulse” 49 shooting deaths -- Of the Danaus Plexipus Butterflies, brothers by the millions. The blood of solidarity, diversity; To heal the wound, Raid our village, burned my home To flap their delicate wings on Thanksgiving. We fail to listen to the blood “I” And reverse time These crimes are senseless! What bleed To a new beginning, can I do- I’m not a preacher Of slavery, wars, One with a better understanding Soldier neither, occupation! Poor Genocides, terrorism, Of e pluribus Unum 00 Righteous Teacher… And other atrocities -- Latin for “one out of many.” The blood spilt Translation: I, you -- us; Special Occasion Poems By callousness, entitlement, And oppression; From Creation’s beginning A Time Afore Christmas To that created by man, By Michael Griffis We fail to listen “I” have never been alone, To the blood “I” bleed I, we are the world turners, T’was a time afore Christmas and Of bullying, suicides The brothers’ keepers of ourselves- all through the world Rivalries, and jealousies -- - great violence inflicted and insults The blood spilt And, sadly, quite sadly, were hurled By fear, suffering, The blood “I” bleed not all abroad, there was trouble at Ostracism, and indifference. Is only acknowledged, only revered home -- one man’s demise is the Griff’s When you prick my finger, When you prick my finger. Christmas poem Experience and pain manifest, Civilizations and cultures resurrect, Mouthful It wasn’t just violence but fear and And bloodlines cry out By Orlando Mandela disease From the centuries of lives gone knot heads and morons that do as by… Rise and shine and give god… your they please The lives of slaves, wages third world leaders and dictators too Activists, educators, We’re in the Triple Stages, of with hands on the button but nay And the collaterally damaged -- Darkness… trapped in cages! not a clue And the Generations in the Missing pages, the Holy scriptures balance. have been raided The markets of finance and stock Master Masons, they use the Word took a dive From a trickle to a gush, for your enslavement.

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org where once more than twenty now In about seven hours, eight less than five And ISIS kept busy with mayhem Had in store for us men. the rich got richer, the poor and violence They were scanning the papers, remained strapped for those who were murdered a Each coupon and ad, goodwill to making was once again moment of silence As that morning was nearing lapped the French and the Russians, both When all women go mad. sides of the pond This country had problems, we’re my wish for this Christmas a magic So I went to my bedroom, not quite on course type want And I lay on my bed so many killed by our own police As peace and tranquility force When what to my wondering eyes Danced in my head. age mattered not nor did nature of should appear But in what seemed like minutes, crime A new improved sickness that adds The clock started dinging, even our children shot down in their to my fear And my wife hit the floor prime much like Ebola but eighty times Like a springy spring springing. worse Gangs running rampant, mobs, A vex to the world but boon to my And before the old rooster hordes and throngs verse Could doodle his doo, that seemingly know not their rights We were out of the driveway; from their wrongs Disaster befell us both man made It was twenty past two. there seemed no safe haven, no and not And with not a hint part in a storm this year if counting was more than Of a sunny sun sunning, the killing in churches was way past a lot I could hear my wife grumbling bad form volcanoes and earthquakes - How late we were running. tsunamis and drought We murdered our own, where we we might be surprised by we’re But I dared not to answer with seem to excel never in doubt grumbling or cheer, beat’ em and break’ em then swear For a wife can be ruthless that they fell This year was something, each day This day of the year. it wasn’t just children but mothers brought new gift The first stop was Walgreens and dads frustration and anger and quite For a Barbie and Ken, contracts were purchased on often miffed Some Alien war games, Craigslist type ads I can’t see the future, the sun much And a monogrammed pen. too bright Europe’s been crushed by those so with my best language, I bid But before they would open refugees fleeing thee goodnight! At a quarter past three. where no one can muster a plan There were two hundred women pon agreeing Black Friday Looking angry at me. they came from Tunisia and By Bob H. Cook Then as the doors opened, crossed troubled waters I prepared for the worst, losing their parents, their sons and ‘Twas the night of Thanksgiving And we pressed through the their daughters And all through the house, doorway I could hear ladies chatting, Like a dam that just burst. The Middle East warring and hard Making plans with my spouse. keeping track While the scent of roast turkey There was kicking and gouging who’s fighting who and who’s got Still hung in the air, And Folks having fits who’s back I was munching peach cobbler Till it looked like a yard sale that airspace now filling with Kicked back in my chair. When a hurricane hits. fighters and jets Then we ran without checkbooks who’s getting downed, I’m now And I couldn’t help thinking And coupons and all. taking bets What my wife and her friends, It was mash-away, cash-away, 24

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

Dash for the mall Then, we’ll put them together, It’s a grand celebration for both A few everyday.” young, and old, Through the snow and the ice But both of us know But there’s no one to laugh with; And the glaring of light They’ll remain out of sight there’s no one to hold. And the cars in the left lane And never be touched There’s no one to sing to, That need to turn right. Until Christmas Eve night. no one to cry, And the blue lights and toy-flights No one to care if I live or And “clean up, aisle one,” So, we hunt empty boxes die, As we tore apart K-Mart, My wife has been keeping, No one to need me or the Up came the sun. And I dare not to mention little I’ve got I’d rather be sleeping. Or to care if my year will be Then we turned Toys R Us And the wrapping takes longer happy or not. Into Toys R All Gone. Then what we intended, Three dreadful minutes, ding dong, “There’s a big truck at Big Lots” But at last it’s all over ding dong, And the battle was on. And the nightmare has ended. And all of the world will break out in There’s a “Game Boy” at Wal-Mart; song, There’s a tool box at Sears. So, I pillow my head Forgetting the hunger, forgetting There’s always one somewhere, Just glad to be living, the need, But there’s never one here. And I think of the Pilgrims Forgetting the rich and their On that first Thanksgiving. arrogant greed, Hurrying, scurrying, If they could have visioned Forgetting the old folks, Driving around, This Friday-turned-Black, alone in their bed, Whatever happened They’d have set sail for England And the ones who are To shopping downtown? And never looked back. thinking they’d rather be dead, The backseat is loaded, And the one who was And the trunk lid is flapping trusted as husband and Dad, With three-hundred presents A New Year’s Lament But carelessly squandered All ready for wrapping. Bob H. Cook those blessings he had. Just two minutes longer, click clack, The snowflakes are falling, In five more minutes, tick tock , tick click clack, And I hear my wife saying, tock, If only those hands on that clock “Let’s head for the house, Dear, A New Year will come with the tick could turn back. It looks like it’s laying.” of the clock. If only our future could capture out So, we empty the trunk I’ve bathed and shaved and past And the floor and the seat, trimmed up my hair, And all of the things that we cherish As the snow’s getting harder And I feel like I ought to be going could last! And mixing with sleet. somewhere. There’s frolic and laughter Veterans Then, we both throw our coats not too far away down Families gather to welcome I Will Never Leave A Fallen And fix us a snack, the day, Comrade As we sort out the boxes Banded together like we By Shon Pernice And put them in stacks, used to be. I’m cold and I’m wet Each one needs someone, I kept you alive, And I’m hungry and tired, but no one needs me. In the combat zone And there’s sixty-eight gifts Just four little minutes, cuckoo, I’ll help you survive, With assembly required. cuckoo, As we rest at home. And it’s out with the old and in with “We’ll wrap all the others the new. We’ve been on foreign soil, And hide, these away; And weathered turmoil 25

[email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org In far-away lands, Honoring the Troops Filled with desert sands, By Bernard Wroblewski I patched up your wounds, And prayed for you too. I packed up all my bags and was shipped to this distant land Now back in the States, Now on the front lines of war I You start to break plates proudly stand. I can’t leave you alone, Wading through the bodies, my As you go into the zone. blood soaking the soil I boldly press on, pushing back the Drugs and alcohol dread and turmoil. Temporarily relieve the pain, Nothing could have prepared me As the memories make you feel for this carnage that I’m seeing Like you’re going insane. Or this sadness punching through the core of my being. If suicide is a must, I’m the one you can trust, We were warned what would come Let’s talk and work through this, and that some of us may die As your eyes start to mist. But I was hoping we could prove that chance to be a lie. I will always have your six, While our loved ones sleep If you get lost in the mix comfortable, with peaceful dreams I have the anesthetic We lay awake haunted by Because I’m your combat medic. exposures and blood curdling screams. I’ve tried to tune it out but I can’t catch a break It’s all I hear, whether I’m asleep or awake.

But we’ll finish this war, of that you can be sure We’ll endure this hell, so your freedom is secure. All we ask is that you remember the sacrifice of our sisters and brothers For we may not return to see our fathers and mothers. It’s a call heard my many and answered by few

To willingly pay the butcher’s bill for Malachi Surber our Nation and for you.

Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14850

Final Note and our other Prisoner Express but I think it is a telling sign that Dear Poets, projects, and I hope you will send in you want to grow, have an inner submissions for Vol 22 of our desire to communicate and Thank you for taking part in this series. We are collecting poems connect, and that you are willing to program. The volunteers who read now for it and it should be mailed take some risks to further yourself. I all the poems you submit are out in 6 months or so. applaud you and your creativity impressed with the depth of your I look forward to hearing from you. writing. They often stop reading I am sending this collection to poetry to share a poem with others everyone who sent in a poem for I would like to one day put out a in the room. We have thousands of PP21 cycle and I am also sending it pamphlet on how individuals in poems submitted for each to those off you who sent in poems prison tune in to find their creative anthology, and the students that are being considered for PP22. center. If any of you want to share choosing them can only pick We haven’t been adding new your personal process with me, it enough for our slim packet. poems to the PP21 pool for the might be nice to reprint it in a While I know seeing your poem in past 45 days or and have started a newsletter for others who are the anthology can be a positive folder for poems for anthology 22. looking to open up their doors of feeling, I know many of you feel These will be collected until early perception and creativity poorly about not being chosen. I fall and then we will begin am not sure what I can say to you, assembling the next anthology. Gary so you do not get discouraged. Sendin your poems for

What I do know is that the students consideration for the PP22 Anthology? who chose the poems are not experts. They read all the poems Please feel free to send feedback and they choose the ones that on this anthology to us at Prisoner touch them. Every editor is different and the poems they select reflect Express. We want to know how their inner world, more than they participating in this poetry project is may reflect on the skill of the for you. How does it strike you individual poet submitting the when you read others poetry? How poem. We are not poetry experts does it feel when you are and we do not pretend to be. Our selected?. How do you deal with purpose is to create a general the feelings that arise when you do not see one of your poems included selection that highlights the poems submitted in a 6 month period. in the pamphlet? What do you think of the writing presented in these Even if you are not chosen, please anthologies? know your poem is read and your words are considered. While it is Whether your poem was included nice to be chosen, the real purpose in the anthology or not you can and of the project is to encourage you should be proud of yourself for to write and express your thoughts. having the motivation and follow This is a live-long skill that you are through to participate in this developing,and being creative and process. So many people faced learning new communication skills with hardship give up, and you poets are willing to feel and share will serve you throughout your life. your thoughts. It says to me you have healthy instincts to participate

and belong in with other people. It We so appreciate working with you and hearing your thoughts in this, may seem like a small thing to you,

Non-Profit Organization CTA/Alternatives Library US Postage Paid 127 Anabel Taylor Hall Permit 448 Ithaca, NY 14850 Ithaca, NY 14850 www.prisonerexpress.org Change Service Requested

Prisoner Express Poetry Anthology 21

George Bozeman