Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14853 Self Reflection let’s hope it, I float with the My mind labors and gives birth omnipotent, anything loudly, you wrote down he already wrote it. daily, freely, So my advice: let’s roll the dice, as we hit and it is good and very good. And miss and watch death come down with its sweet Define by Edd Alexander kiss but for the moment let’s I am nothing but a word, defined by reminisce, those who this is my genesis know my meaning, and empowered by all who use Final Thoughts by Sandra D. me. Forged by knowledge, and Brown crafted by wisdom, I am the sum total of the world I am a builder of many worlds and Art by Steven Fegan she disguised me in labels, destroyer of many nations. lies and stereotypes. Constantly I have been Genesis by Marino Leyba underestimated For the moment this pain, I own it, I am the one about which by the human limitation. I am the I’m unable to they all have something to say. inspirator of dreams control it just like the lottery, but As if they really know me. with the power to crown queens and instead of winning I I am the purest blue dethrone kings. All make pottery. beating at the heart because I am nothing but a word of burning candles whose meaning cannot So please don’t bother me, as I hit moving in the stillness. be truly defined. I am nothing but a and miss death word that comes down with its sweet kiss but In the beginning plagues a clouded mind, and a word for the moment I reinvented myself. that is crafted let’s reminisce of genesis and my And the mind was without form to withstand the test of time. first kiss, the ones I and void. miss, even my nemesis. So I said, “let there be thought,” Hail the King! By Isaac Chavez and there was thought. I’ve come to the conclusion So what’s behind that, I sent a that message to the The angel in the house I am in fact a bohemian! world, but I get no reply back. tried to seduce me with silence, I must be As I sit and I think I ask questions like the big, bad Woolf, because if not so like will I killed her too. then what else I sink or will I peak? I wink because I but know Blank canvas gave birth to words, a breathing number, my situation is bleak. birth to lines, birth to verse. member of the steel Voice in hand put form to thoughts, clan As I’m sitting by the creek, I can hear round, living like a full womb. who bow to none other them than doublespeak, my physique is weak, I am the difference the razor king my technique unique no one wanted me to make. brought to life through electric but I feel I haven’t slept in a week or Woman, Black Phoenix, pulses, so infinite holder of the stars. metal ruler I think. I reinvented myself. which feeds off of the fear of my past life. It seems like it, the road I’m on, I I am the one about which NO! know They all still have something to say. I must be a bohemian, my dreams might split, so any My heart still beats a man, an unconventional chance for survival in the stillness of the night. poet, 1 [email protected] – www.prisonerexpress.org one who writes every so often Gypsy Wind Stirs my Soul by C.S. My Heart Beats by Blair of the king’s looming omnipresence, Bagwell Blanchette nothing but a pretender presenting a This blessed life is all I know. My heart beats conflicting What thought can I think, that I Deep inside a river conscious haven’t muttered before? Keeps love free All I have, do I yearn for more? To be delivered-- CAUTION! Sometimes, gypsy wind stirs my With the force of a wave I must warn that I am him, soul. It flays the knave’s shield; he who has worn out the warmth Whispering for permission Consider the brave feat-- and left a trail of cold shoulders to be unleashed against the world, This quest to steal away hopeful sneers, half full beers, Abandoning the complacent my unconcealed heart’s seat cheerful condemnation, existence Contains; unchains… disgusting sensations I’ve labored to shape and mold that invoke moments of self into love so dependent upon me Ascertain well reflection. a reciprocal responsibility. The might entailed Perhaps Love that acts the host To restrain this rabid beast I am but a jester sent here to when like a parasite I feed. Surging against its chains; casually entertain Still, these daydreams I entertain Peace oft retains a paradox the most gracious king and his setting my conscience unleashed to Replete with its unique legend hierarchy, or roam Drained from a quintessence maybe even though not un-chaperoned. Of mystical impressions-- an early opponent in a cheap chess Because such emotions will never And she alone holds the match entirely go. key! that has just lost his queen Inevitably, from time to time to a puny green pawn. still, gypsy wind stirs my soul. Refrain, only to watch her wither; Always intriguing and enticing, Blue lips quiver, renewing their hold ENOUGH! The epitome of exciting --memories… I must be a bohemian! until I muse upon this blessed life Rampant in my soul If not then God’s made. Who knows the answer? please send me One day I’ll leave an amazing legacy God help us all if we lie! to the hangman. subtly the itch of passion starts to Too bold to be denied fade. Truth seeks its own demise-- Author’s Note: “The idea of seeing Dreams are fun to wander errantly, That it might live myself as just an inmate haunts me but could never outweigh the when put to the test. just as much as the thought that I am significance of me. The eternal flame burns deep in my seen as just a prisoner. The beautiful lives I’ve created, chest I talk about what I think of as living a selflessly touched and raised Emblazoned--emboldened love double life, when I say “nothing but a to no less continue to rely on me Forever asleep to risk. pretender presenting a conflicting I wouldn’t have it any other way. conscious.” In one life I’m what might No lingering doubts about the The waves...golden, crestfallen be perceived as cold, indifferent, decisions that I’ve made, troughs whereas in the other, I’m quite the the foundation that’s become me Ravage battered shores; opposite; I love and I am loved. Still the vein through which my family Times greatest secret in this struggle with myself, I reach a bleeds Ravaged like a whore point where in my desperation to be like an essential artery In the hands of this savage garden; more I come to the conclusion that I the love transporting roots of a Priming lavish minefields must live in this unconventional way windblown tree In time-filled pretensions. (like a bohemian) and write about it in a sweet gently tempting breeze. Passionately chiming dissensions-- all, because if I don’t, I can’t possibly Even though I have the will to not let Intertwining admissions; be more and hope would be lost go In for finding suspense in ‘..send me to the hangman.’” still, gypsy wind stirs my soul. Abhorred intentions; Binding our hearts As one. 2 Prisoner Express – 127 Anabel Taylor Hall – Ithaca, NY 14853 Its streets cloaked in shadows Of yours… And when tribulation impedes Blacker than coal, lead Sending the waving tides angels fall from heaven quickly, To sable reelings of fabled feelings Which hides embrace; We’ve forgotten somewhere along Sorrow filled tears grace, from the talons of a phoenix; this road; Defacing blind eyes let sereneness be your rapture. Flooding this keeling heart; As I As you dance amidst the waves of Dousing its vital spark; Patiently await the pasty embrace chaos, Brilliant stars Of the shores tender kiss; upon that turbulence in the mind Swimming in sapphire skies There is nothing more sensual than where the armies of heaven and hell Bridal eyes, this collide, Blind--at the mention of her name… Fiery glow let love be your muse. All loves are not the same… That flows in the midst Understand that you are me, My heart beats Of shadows, And I am you. Deep inside a river Cast by a past of pain as Set a flame! Purple raindrops soak each grain Author’s Note: “Let me tell you that I And the tender tears of angels was a poor kid from a broken home Ember’s burst, Fain fall; in New Orleans, Louisiana. My dad Cascading showers of ochre flowers- Forming a river wasn’t always there, which took a toll - Sending shivers up my spine; on my development. I’ve dealt with Parading towers of pastel hues; As the bind breaks my past well though. I am now in Flashes of protestant red’s Creating the chord in which prison, having abandoned my son, Intense whites Lives a beat Trajan. I am thankful to be able to Blinding common sense between That keeps see and talk to him.” Blue’s wrongs and pink’s rights Me alive... As I fight to contain My heart beats deep inside a river.