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“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
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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
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“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…
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“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…
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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
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“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
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“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
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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?
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“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…
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Untitled Poem by Eric King
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…
