-
“They say I’m no good”
They say I’m no good and the whole town would be safer If I was buried deep or shot with a taser They talk a lot of shit is it a terrorist or arsonist? Can’t let me out of here I’m a fire breather I’m too violent cops put me in a box with 20 doors and no windows sunlight’s prohibited “it’ll make you grow” those that will judge have never gotten to know me but my look is rotten If only they’d talk to you first they would learn a secret by you from me & maybe they’d agree that I’m harmless
-
On the other side of the fence it grows
On the other side of the fence it grows out of the reach of my hand & nose free to be as lovely as it intends free to be with its flower friends Not to be killed inside this cage such enchantments would be a waste Never seen such a blue, defying hate just by existing fed by the sun it feeds my being sometimes being happy feels like treason your petals offer one more reason to not break down or fold so easy life would be such a cake the day I awake on the same side as my friends we’ll both rise up in defiance on that day
-
This Vile Institution
I have the blues like a dead man’s lips This vile institution Serving your cereal with a cup of warm piss they’ll teach me a lesson If only my cold shoulder didn’t come with a chip for all my treason maybe my life was a failure, but it felt like a gift the dementor is freezing I’m a thorn bush that needs to be clipped
-
Our Getaway
With a shovel and a dream I begin heading your way The ground is cold and hard and inclined to budge But we fight it, we fight hard and we fight the calendar We’re expected to break to throw in every towel Our muscles are aching Sore but not breaking Meet in the middle We’ll help each other to escape To flee society and heartbreak Together we’ll tunnel out of this pain and nothing will stop our getaway
-
“They forgot we were earthworms”
They tried to bury us They forgot we were earthworms Eating out their rotten brains And shitting out their undigestible’s that we were fucking shovels just ‘cause someone throws dirt on you doesn’t mean you can’t throw That shit right off that we were landmines waiting for one, wrong, cocky misstep To bring them to their knees and send their knees into the trees that we were fucking zombies we’d keep rising up ‘cause we didn’t crave brains we craved freedom that we didn’t mind the underground away from their laws and harsh glares that we were Prairie dogs digging tunnels and spending all day just barking and talking shit…
-
“Circumstances “
We are not victims of our circumstances We are the victors over them Circumstances gave us thin ice and heavy skates took our families and morphed them into something horrific Gave us cold nights And thin blankets no heat, but rocket launchers We have hearts that fed beatings and eyes that can’t look away and lots of time to think about it We found the will to fight so it gave us an enemy that can’t die gave us eyes to read letters of heartbreaking sorrow Circumstances gave us rotting logs to make homes then laughed a the tornadoes taught us to count so we’d know just how much we…
-
“Owls”
Wish I could write poems about owls but what do I know They sure are cute when young unless you are a mouse they want Sitting like time passing under a harvest moon head saying no to every question even the ones we haven’t asked Are you wise or am I a fool? share your wisdom mystical ass Crouched under your tree sticks digging like miners into my bare feet Why have you not written a poem about me?
-
Tight ropes, taut lines
In the past three plus years I’ve been in the SHU (segregated housing unit), I’ve been directly aware of nine hangings. That is, occurred either on my range, in my cell, or near enough that I could hear the body hit the ground. Some of these were “cries for help”, some were serious, all were scarring and devastating. Almost always BOP staff hides behind either indifference towards our lives, or bureaucratic policy to avoid actually helping… at USP Atlanta they rushed in and yanked the prisoner down (by the legs), slapping them, yelling to “be a man, not a bitch!” at other institutions they laugh, yelling to quit faking. Two years ago here at Englewood Levi hung up,…
-
“We Got to Get Out of Here” a poem by Eric King
We got to get outta here But no one brought ropes! The wall is a shoebox And we are all heels Tied up right So we don’t slip off If we snuck out, nice & quiet We might end up seeing All the slave runners Who sent their kids to Uni On the back of our 300 minutes And once a week visits Then who could tell Which was the bad guy And who maybe had bad luck? We got a skip this pond Did you bring the stones? We got to melt this candle We’ve misplaced the wic! everything is backwards, We are losing our grip this concrete floor…
-
“What it Means to Me”
I first heard your voice when I was 15 Had no idea what it was to be freeSheriffs kicking in doors, leaving furniture in the streets Learning you could starve if you didn’t have the means All the saints taught me, listen to no worldly kings Principal, coaches & priests, all the same things When the police blinded me with war chemicals laughter was my partner, I hadn’t broken my rulesAfter god went away, Anarchy never faded Politicians love to recruit but I can’t be persuadedMy anarchy, grew with me, walmart & McDonalds ProtestsActivism always went through stageslearn-act, learn more-act more, growth, always growthSometimes I was an an archo-fascist, forcing…
