Jail

Sitting in my cell
thinking
what the hell is wrong with me
I'm going down
for prostitution
and don't know what to do next
waiting
to see what the judge
has in store for me
I am scared
to death
I let a pimp abuse me
and let him walk free

damn

I wish I could go back in time
scared to look my mom in the eye
scared to become judged
by everyone I know

How am I just going to let this ride off me?
So now
sitting where I started
all because I'm too scared
to talk about what's going on with me.

In my cell
everyday, thinking
why
I let him walk free

Now I am doing a 6 month bid
for someone who doesn't even care
where I am

I'm in jail
In my cell
aching from the pain
of jail.

by Paulette Essie

A WARRIOR IN CHAINS

WHEN

A WARRIOR'S

SPIRIT IS WHOLE AND STRONG

HE IS NOT AFRAID TO DIE

IT'S OF NO AVAIL

TO THREATEN A WARRIOR WITH DEATH

FOR DEATH HAS LITTLE MEANING

TO LIVE

A WARRIOR NEEDS

FREEDOM

FOR IT IS THE INDIAN WAY

TO ENDURE

A WARRIOR NEEDS

THE RIGHT

TO FREEDOM OF THOUGHT

A WARRIOR TAKES

CONSOLE IN THE

SACRED PIPE

FOR IT IS HIS RELIGION

LIKE A DIEING POOL

OF WATER

A WARRIOR BECOMES STAGNANT

WITHOUT FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION

FOR IT IS

THE

INDIAN WAY

A WARRIOR PERISHES SILENTLY

ALONE

FOR HIS PEOPLE CANNOT

HEAR HIS WORDS

WITHOUT THE FREEDOM

OF COMMUNICATION

IN PRISON THERE ARE

FEW

HUMAN RIGHTS

MY BED HAS BEEN A CONCRETE

FLOOR

MY BLANKET HAS BEEN MY

OWN BLOOD

I SURVIVE

WHILE THOSE THAT

ABUSE ME ARE

HONORED

BUT I AM NOURISHED BY

THE GREAT SPIRIT

EVER TRUE AND UNWAVERING

I DO NOT FEEL LOST

I AM NOT ALONE AND WEAK

MY PRINCIPLES REMAIN

STEADFAST

MY BELIEFS REMAIN THE

INDIAN WAY

by Bobby Garcia

The Bandit

Upon his way to rob a Bank
He paused to watch a fire;
Though crowds were pressing rank on rank
He pushed a passage nigher;
Then sudden heard, piercing and wild,
The screaming of a child.
A Public Enemy was he,
A hater of the law;
He looked around for bravery
But only fear he saw;
Then to the craven crowds amaze
He plunged into the blaze.
How anguished was the waiting spell
Of horror and of pain!
Then--then from out that fiery hell
He staggered forth again:
The babe was safe, in blankets wrapt,
The man flame lapt.
His record was an evil one,
Of violence and sin.
No good on earth he'd ever done,
Yet--may he Heaven win!
A gangster he . . . Is it not odd?
--With guts of God.

by Robert William Service

What I Have Lost

I know through the years

There were good times and bad

Unfortunately what hurts

I remember the bad

I’ve disappointed you

In so many ways

The drinking, the drugging

Almost forgetting your special day

I know you’ve lost trust

Today is a new day

I’m sobering up

While missing you the same

The days are getting better

I’m recalling the good days

I know that this year

I’ll remember your special day

by Jill Smith

Voice Of An Angel

I commited so much crime,
It was pretty much like a flood...
And then one day i shot the wrong way
And I shed an innocent person's blood...

Now, the cops had me surrounded
There was nowhere I could go...
So, I threw down my gun
And got on the ground real low...

Well, they cuffed me and they stuffed me,
And then they hauled me away...
And they locked me in an ice cold cell
Until my trial day...

Now, the courts proved I was a terrible person,
You see...
So, the jury found me guilty
And the judge threw the book at me...

The sentence I received was harsh,
he gave me twenty-five to life...
I knew right then and there,
I've lost my children and my wife...

So, from that moment on
It seemed like all I could do was cry...
Because everything I love I've lost
And I just wanted to die...

Then I heard this voice
Ask me why I'm falling apart...
I said, because I'm lost and alone,
There's emptiness in my heart...

This voice said, If I accept Jesus as my savior,
Then he will come to be...
The one who fills my heart with love
And truly sets me free..

So, I listened to this voice
And I did everything just right...
And before I fell asleep
The Lord came to me that night...

And now that he has set me free
And helped lift me from my hell...
I owe a thanks
To the voice of an angel in my cell...


by Robert A. Vorce aka Tony
(written at OSP - Oregon State Penitentiary - 2001)

Mauvais Quart D'heure

Bitter cold was the day -
You could see your breath in the air;
Shivering beneath a thin wool blanket
And the government jumpsuit that I wear.
The silence is haunting,
Interrupted only by footsteps down the hall;
I wish I had something to read
Besides the cries written on these walls.
My memories are all that I have now,
And a very tiny sliver of hope keeps me going;
I think that because of the cold
Outside this cell, it must be snowing.
I had to break the ice in the toilet,
This morning like every other;
And I wish I could tell someone of this frozen hell,
If even a phone call home to mother.
At meals, I can just see the eyes of my bro,
Through the tiny food slot in the cell across the way;
He's talking less and less,
And his eyes seem to die a little more every day.
I don't know how long we've been here;
It's been at least a month, I know,
Since the night they chained us up
And carried us down here from the hole.
I don't know how long I can hold on,
I'm feeling weaker with every single day;
But I know I must stay strong
For my dying brother across the way.
There's about thirty of us down here,
Maybe more, I just don't know;
They had us packed like sardines in the cellhouse -
Maybe a hundred or so?
We spent Christmas and New Years,
Four of us to a tiny prison cell;
Until that night they carried us down here,
One by one, to this frozen hell.
I'd only been in prison a few months
When a riot broke out one winter morning;
It was December nineteenth,
And the entire prison was taken over without warning.
National Guard and Federal Agents came,
My unit was the second one to be hit;
They fired tear gas canisters in on us,
And that was all she writ.
We couldn't breath and couldn't see -
Snot poured out our tortured nose;
And I got hit especially bad
From a canister fired in too close.
They beat us with clubs and tied up our wrists,
We surrendered without a fight;
And I was taken with some of my bros
To the old cellhouse late that night.
And now I'm in this ice cold cell,
My mind slowly slipping away;
And all I can do is try to hold on
As I try to survive just one more day.
I try to do anything to feel somehow alive,
I pace the length of this eight foot concrete floor;
I wait on the daily meals and a little warmth
When just three times a day they open that tiny slot
To feed us through that solid steel door.


by Danny Watson aka ne033x

Understanding

The Logical Song from ne033x on Vimeo.

If you should try

To understand me

Through the eyes

Of your experiences

You only understanding

Will be misunderstanding



For we have walked different paths

And have known different fears

And that which brings you laughter

Just might bring me tears



So if you can learn

To accept me

And the strange things

I say and do



Maybe through you acceptance

You will gain understanding



-Javan