prison poetry

July 25, 2016

“Feeling forgotten feels worst than dying” a poem by Eric King in solidarity with Chelsea Manning

They take away your voice

you loose touch with yourself.

If you aren’t moving forward

do we even exist?

Instagram, tinder, never made a hashtag.

Everyone is street walking

playing Pokemon Go

I don’t even have a phone.

It’s so easy to feel alone

Feeling Forgotten Feels worse

than dying.

They turned your story into a crime

tortured you for daring to exist

must have hurt those fuckers

to know so many people listen.

Flowers can grow in concrete,

can we grow in cells?

The easiest thing in the world

is to feel you’ve lost touch,

and it hurts so much,

Solidarity Chelsea

July 13, 2016July 14, 2016

Poem by Eric King

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

March 30, 2016

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

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.

March 25, 2016

“Oh the life of a snitch” a poem by Eric King

Oh, the life of a snitch

you get caught with a ki

won’t even do 3

that’s one hell of a plea

you’re a snitch!

***

Number one on your conspiracy

but you’d rather be free

smooth rolling in P.C.

“he was gonna tell on me”

sure he was, you’re a snitch!

***

You sure like to talk and plan

then turn witness for the man

your life’s more important

trust the community understands

hypocrite anarcho-snitch!

***

Swear “fuck the cops till I die”

prison looks at you and smiles

whoops next day you’re a C.I.

where’d they hide the wire guy?

Slimy recording snitch!

***

Free a thousand bunnies or two

but finger the entire crew

raise your hand and swear to speak the truth

what’d they expect you to do

Greasy Eco-snitch!

March 19, 2016

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

March 10, 2016

“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

February 23, 2016

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

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

January 31, 2016

Am I angry or hungry a poem by Eric King

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?

January 22, 2016

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

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

January 17, 2016

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