“If Tamir was named Andy from the Hamptons” a poem by Eric King

 

ferguson-protest-oakland

Every breath is an air of defiance

sparks flying I breathe fire

What happened in the Lorraine

happened in Ferguson & Batton Rouge

Police keeping cities safe

passing out freedom bullets

Black bodies not regarded as anything

more than click-bait and hot topics

If Tamir was named Andy

from the Hamptons

maybe it’d make a fucking difference?!

This isn’t gang violence, its state violence

its race violence, it shouldn’t exist but

so often does happen without outrage

from the privileged to well off

to be outspoken

This isn’t new it’s just finally on the news

cause people took to the streets

& when told to disperse they refused

So painful but its true

Blue Lives Murder

Poem by Eric King

interior-Innenraum-1981-by-Anselm-Kiefer

It’s so much easier to think

when I focus on the point

my sidewalks are shifting

standing on shaky legs

Tomorrow I may awaken

to a ceiling never seen

Battling the state

Battling the PTSD

Much easier to stay awake

lines in the novels don’t read straight

Tired and alert, pick a team

It’s so much easier to dream

Knowing we will survive this thing

7/4 update, poem and call for support

anarchyflower

In the time since his sentencing, Eric has experienced an unexpected response from the prisoners back at CCA Leavenworth. Other prisoners heard about his outspoken attitude in court against the role Judge Fenner plays in the war against poor, black and brown folks. When it comes to survival based drug “crimes,” the rich and powerful draw the line between what they consider to be acceptable and unacceptable ways of supporting one’s family while the judges and courts act as enforcer. EK spoke directly against the harsh sentences for poor folks and contrasted them against the immunity that the police possess in regards to the violence they inflict on marginalized communities.

Be it a fist of solidarity, a vegan meal prepared for him, or a conversation about the function of prisons in class war, many have reached out to EK to say thank you. Folks were touched by him using his position of privilege to speak up against the war being waged against them. Sentencing is traditionally a time to beg for forgiveness and mercy from the omnipotent judge in hopes of garnering a lighter sentence. Most prisoners do not have the same privilege of speaking so freely in such a moment.

In what can only be seen as immature retaliation, Judge Fenner refused to put in a recommendation for EK’s placement within the federal prison system. Eric requested placement in FCI Florence (his desire to be sent there is due to the proximity to his partner). Judges don’t have to make a recommendation about placement and the BOP certainly doesn’t have to honor these, but prisoners can ask for a recommendation to be made in the hope that it will help them get placed closer to loved ones.

Now begins the “waiting game” for EK. From what we understand of what will likely happen to EK, he could be picked up without any word to his friends or family and taken to a federal sorting facility in Oklahoma at any time within the next 2 months. He will then likely stay in Oklahoma while the BOP prepares to transfer him to his designated facility. Prisoners typically stay at this transitional facility for 2-8 weeks before being transferred. Unless he is able to get information from the US Marshalls (which is unlikely, but has happened before), neither he nor his support crew will know where he will be transferred until it happens.

 

How you can support Eric in this transition

We ask that you keep your eyes open and be ready to send out a quick card or letter to EK as soon as he gets sent to Oklahoma. Because of his unknown length of time at this facility it is going to be important to blast out messages of strength and solidarity fast. You can even host a letter writing night and save all of the letters and shoot them out when you get word.

Also, please remember to donate to the fundraiser or share the fundraiser page! Eric has 8 years of time ahead of him and we want to ensure that he is able to maintain contact with the world and his loved ones through funds for his phone, stamps and envelopes. As a vegan in prison he will have a constant need for commissary as a way to supplement his diet. https://fundrazr.com/316cDf?ref=ab_a4jVK6

We even have some pretty sick t-shirts that are available through the fundraiser by making a donation of $20 or more! Make sure to hit us up with addresses and sizes.

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Also if you are interested in becoming one of the folks that contributes to EK’s commissary directly every month get in touch with us at erickingsupportcrew(a)riseup.net

When Eric arrives at his facility books will be greatly appreciated! We have temporarily disabled his Amazon Wishlist until he is transferred because books sent to him during his transfer may be lost. But keep an eye out for the opportunity to send him some books as soon as he is placed.

 

 

 

Lastly a poem that Eric wrote for all of the folks that have held it down ans supported him over the last two years

Sitting on this dock, looking at a sea

that I can’t believe

I don’t know how to maneuver a ship

scared & lost as shit

Footsteps confuse me, a captain shouting commands

stuck in a place where I have to stay

thanking the universe for the hands that steady the waves

I don’t understand all of this, so many doing so much

ship steadies as the sails group

Stars free themselves from the shackles of clouds

a warm voice, a warm heart, tells me not to fear now

Waters going overboard, we’re not sinking anymore

This ship still holds me captive, but at least

I’m not sailing alone.

 

 

Links to some independent news articles about EK’s sentencing:

http://www.unicornriot.ninja/?p=7428

https://itsgoingdown.org/eric-king-sentenced-10-years/

 

“One of these days I’m gonna break these chains” a poem by Eric King

crime1

I wake up alone

in a box that ain’t my home

without the love I call my own

people who live  in glass houses

I envy them all

people who live in cages

must throw stones

tear the skin sticking to my bones

got a spoon to dig down straight

only digging the plot to my own grave

if my body can’t , then my mind will escape

my enemy wears authority instead of a face

I wake up alone

but we cannot break

freedom is on the phone

she holds me in one piece

I wake up with a hole

that she fills complete

battered & bruised but on my feet

one day I’ll awake

within a home that’s all our own

we will bury the past

start our own damn show

I wake up with a heart that is filled with gold

love so powerful it could explode.

Them bronze keys a poem by Eric King

Them bronze keys

o’ they rattle

am i free

or starting battle

Them slammed doors

how they wake

my battered spirit

they tried to break

Them bronze keys

open my food tray

guards watching hard

inspecting how much I ate

Them slammed doors

can hear from afar

do the doors know

how deeply they scar?

Them bronze keys

why do you exist

separation creates pain

and its balled up in my fist

“Walk away or fight” a poem by Eric King

 

People say to be strong

but never say or mention

where to absorb strength from

is it strength that risk of the hole

over a lack of vegetables

or reckless rebellion

maybe its principle

facing our fears & embracing our weaknesses

maybe our greatest triumph

or fuckup

stand yer ground, feel it quake

arms so brittle, legs so weak

struggle to recall the point of this

still willing to go for whatever the point is

forgotten what home smelt like

vividly recall what choking on fumes felt like

nothing is ever black and white

options are always more than

just walk away or fight

“They build walls to hold” a poem by Eric King

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They build walls to hold

to separate and destroy

They build prisons to enslave

to rip hearts to shreds

They build planes to attack

and build plants to make bombs

They build borders to differentiate

between right & wrong, good & bad

We build songs to give a helping hand

and ease a burned heart

We build communities to shelter

from hatred and abuse

We build support to give strength

to withstand the burden of the state

They build up police and we fight them all

The build up division and cruelty

We build friendship and solidarity

most of all

We build love

Am I angry or hungry a poem by Eric King

Street-Art-resistance-grows

Am I angry or hungry

starving and shaking

throw a punch

or take a bite

cook a meal

or start a fight?

In what world does

canned spoiled fruit and beans

count as a meal?

How hard does bread need to be

before it is a rock?

Do I fight for something more

or swallow my dignity and food?

CCA you corrupt fucks

where’s the Oregon militia

when you need it?

I ate much better on the streets

when I was homeless & free

can I even complain

do I have ground to stand on

or thin air?

“how did McDavid handle it when the judge said 19?” a Poem by Eric King

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This is a feeling you can’t escape

its an empty loneliness, I know it

me by myself despite a strong team

back in the boxing ring

keep hoping that i’ll wake from this

how did McDavid handle it when the judge said 19?

This is fear I can feel it

eating through my stomach

like a starving lion lurking

I float in the warm blood below

that puddles beneath my cold carcass

nothing I have to say, sadly

is worth the struggle for a last breath

when all there is to eat is poisonous plants

do you skip a meal or go for broke?

Vomiting up the last of my hopes

torn between defiance and defeat

battle cries and fate’s cruel jokes

all of my heroes have records

my internal infrastructure sparks riots

when I wake the smokes scattered

and I have to face reality

survival is a must

acceptance then progress

it hurts though

Untitled Poem by Eric King

oppression_by_xxdiexdiexdie
art found here http://xxdiexdiexdie.deviantart.com/art/oppression-27779608

I think I see it, clearer

they want us to live life in fear

not feeling that kind of life

broken into our minds

robbery mask on tight

to steal our sense of humanity

the guns are locked & loaded

and they’ve handed them over

made us into hunters

where do we go from here?

We pretend we’re still human

have brains we refuse to use them

is peace really a blade sharpened

or a face stomped in?

I remember how it used to feel

to smile and mean it

it still sitting in my mind

if I can keep it safe and sound

then through this maze I can be found