A Product of Devastation: The Poetic Journey of a Nobody

Sandor Rivera (SR1)

Categories: ,


A Product of Devastation
The Poetic Journey of a Nobody

By: Sandor Rivera

Sandor Rivera

Manuscript • Draft •

Copyright 2019 All Rights Reserved

By Sandor Rivera



Dead From the Start

I thought we were friends
as we drank and we chilled
they misused and abused
a substance or few
In a small room
One on the couch
Two lovers on a bed,
whispers and giggles
I’m among friends,
no issues or worries
new friends they smile
with words exchanged
the theme it changed
No more whispers or giggles
now serious issues
Demons they grin
with sharp razor teeth,
so One put a gun to my head,
Two put a gun to my chest
My mind was full of distress,
I was lost in duress,
Fear flooded my head
live or die one said
No reason to protest
this is no quest or no test,
Dress to impress
or for your last breath
we drove to place
one put a knife in my hand
“don’t be Stupid
Don’t try to be smart,”
Try to escape,
We know where you sleep,
How’s lover and daughter,
your mother and father?
for all the cash in the till
and bags of cheep thrills,
“you’re gonna do as we say”,
or Die here today,
It’s time to kill a man,
and “don’t you fuck this up”,
Don’t you call for help,
It will be your last mistake
So what the fuck do I do?
I enter the place
Dress to impress
a bloody scene is made
as I stand over this man,
“I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry
Repeating I say,
With his blood on my face,
with a blade in my hand
I nearly end his life,
He begs and he pleads
He prays on his knees
He’s a husband and father,
With a mother and father
This is not my intent
this is not who I am
He fights for his life
He gives it his best
I’m drowning in his fear,
Suffocating in my sorrow,
What the fuck do I do?
I tell this man
you’re gonna do as I say
or die here today
“give me your wallet”,
It’s not your money I need,
I see your family I state
now I know where they sleep,
How’s wife and three kids,
I say with a threat
for all the cash in the till
and bags of cheep thrills
I take what I can
grand theft the man’s car
As I drove with a Tail,
into the woods, on a privet road
pleased as they were
with all the cash and cheap thrills
they took and they take
all that they could
not a care in their world
for the blood is on my hands
time came and it passed
I suppressed and I coward
What the FUCK DO I DO?
I was dead from the start.

There are some things in life you look back on and wonder “what if”. What If I did this, instead of that. What if. What if I stood Valiantly in the face of evil instead of coward. What if I called for help, what if I was home instead of out with “friends”. What if I just ate a Bullet? What if…

There are circumstances in life in which we make a choice far greater than we are truly prepared for. It is these moments that change the course of the life we envision. It effects all those who are around us. Everyone has a path to choose, In every second of the day we make a choice.

Was this part of Gods plan?
Can you accept both the good and bad?
Can you find Hope in the Tragedy?

The Knife

Forged in Flames
Like the Fiery Hell
One eighth of an inch thick
Custom Steel,
Heavy and Sharp
It’s ready to Kill,
Grasped in hand
it burns into my mind
Sharp to the touch
I know what it does
Not bias but vicious
it’s thirsty for blood
I clinch my teeth
I ready to swing,
spine crawling chills
my body it trembles,
deep slow breaths
the heart it quickens
The seconds irrelevant
as time and space,
stuck in a moment
the path has been chosen,
swing with a smash
slice with a slash
Cold is the steel
and ready for more
It knows no Hate
No joy or thrill
It feels no pain
I know what it does,
In my hand
it aches with a thirst
Sharp to the touch
makes fourteen slashes
with three large gashes,
One eighth of an inch thick
Custom steel,
Heavy and sharp
I’m not ready to Kill.

This story of devastation is complex as it is perplex. Horrifying as it is, The man who suffered a vicious attack was spared. A victim of violence motivated by greed and more violence. I wish this path never existed for anyone, it is chaotic and terrifying to experience. The reality is one can not change what has been done. However, a person can suffer with a purpose to learn and grow to make use of the path chosen.

“seeing they may see and not perceive,
And hearing they may hear and not understand,
Lest they should turn,
And their sin be forgiven them”
Mark 4:12

I don’t ask for forgiveness any more, as I still sit in my torment. I do pray for guidance and accept my fate and serve with a purpose. Through the tragedy there is something to learn and something to beware.


First time in Jail,
let me tell you what it’s like
when Mothers are crying,
and visions are shattered
so you try to stay strong
and salvage an image,
you got pencil and paper,
a book and your mind,
you got stripped and searched
it felt degrading,
they give you canvas pajamas
and rubber things called shoes
you’re classified for life
nothing turns out right
you’re either sad or mad
never content
you’re too good for the slop
so you’re hungry and stressed
the menu don’t change
so you grow too weak
now you’re mopping it up
and looking for more
there are ruthless killers
rapist and thieves
pushers and users
wolves and sheep,
they’re branded in Ink
and looking at you
when the questions start staking
better answer correct
you make phones calls
but no one answers collect
you’re reminiscing and hoping
for family and friends
It feels like its over
but you’re still holding some hope
It’s time to stand for count,
cause you’re a number to them
If it’s your first time down
beware of the smiles
hungry wolves bare teeth
when they see new Sheep.

Spending time in Jail awaiting trial for any amount of time is a devastating experience. It’s intense and dreadful as you are trying to maintain your sanity. In jail not only are you trying to survive the experience you are also preparing for your defense. There are Jail rules and Jail house rules, everything is working against you. Inmates do complain about everything from lacking a mattress or lacking toiletries down to the food and personal respect. There are many things wrong in Jail and as they say “If you can’t do the time don’t do the crime”. However, that’s not the hardest part.

The most difficult thing about Jail and prison is dealing with the disconnection with your self. When you feel like you barely exist. It start to change you as you try to hold on to the little bit that’s left. That’s when the psychological battle begins.

A man of great wrath will suffer Punishment;
For if you rescue him, you will have
to do it again.
Proverbs 19:19


Take a journey through my mind
see what this life is like
Suppress, Depressed,
consuming my own pain
cycling through emotions
with devastation and heartbreak
It’s psychological warfare,
So I’m utilizing my arsenal
Cause I came from a good home
with love and good will
Raised by mother and father,
told me to grow and do right,
But now I’m the Bad Guy,
This is the dark place
where Evil spawns and demons rejoice,
Now I call this my Home
as I swim in my torment,
Cause this is the introduction
Into my mind’s world
Built from the rubble
of broken dreams and tragedy,

The Transformation of incarceration does not happen over night. It is a dragged out experience that is slow and agonizing. You are destroyed and rebuilt, some for the better some for the worse. Everyone has a different way of conducting them self. Whatever the current environment is presenting in social influence will effect a inmate. No matter what the jail or prison is like, your connection to the world outside will be the factor.

Things happen, time will change a person as you grow in a hostile environment. There are Rules to follow, more prison yard rules and code, Racism, abuse, confusion and issues. It’s the Officers word against yours so they always win. There are times of disconnection if you have more then two years to serve. Only close members of your family actually care about you to visit or write. Sometimes not even they are there. You are left alone with no one to care about and no one to care about you. It is miserable as hate and evil finds it way in to your soul. Within the walls of the Correction center you are buried alive and dearly departed.

Even my own familiar friend in in whom I trusted, Who ate my bread, Has lifted up his heel against me.
Psalm 41:9

Dearly Departed

Locked in a cage
It feels like a grave,
I’m suffocating to death
Accepting my fate
I try to maintain
What little is left,
I’m feeling some rage
as they rattle my cage,
With rules and regulations,
more rules on the yard
they want the convictions
we want resolutions,
So your mother is crying
as she begs and she pleads
your girl tries to hold on
but she’s on to the next,
while you’re shattered and broken
you’re losing control,
So I’m fighting these walls
till these knuckles are raw
Aggression, Depression,
with sensory deprivation
it’s Solitude in this box
with four white walls
It’s modifying behavior
intense management,
I’m ignoring the voices
cause I know they’re my own
It’s all terribly bad
tremendously sad,
when its all said and done
you’re either dead or you’re dying
soon to find out
Hell is cold
But prison is colder,
you’re out of sight
out of mind
and dearly forgotten,
everything is gone
what isn’t sure will be
from your girl to your mom
even the memories
but you do what you can
while you still got some hope,
Every minute of the day
is a battle to be fought
within the belly of the beast
there’s a war to be lost
you either break or you’re made
but never intact
So I promise fury and rage
dedicated by Pain
A product of devastation
with continuous Hate.

Sometimes one has to stop and think of the current mental stage that is transforming them. I think of this often as I’m constantly dealing with prison issues again and again. It can be the stress of the environment such as the officers bringing in frustration from home. Inmates like to rule other inmates, and dictate what the rules are. We call this prison politics. A person rides in the “car” and held to the expectations. The ideas of what is fair or justified is skewed.

Some people are in a constant state of helplessness and as you’re pushed and cornered. You learn to fight because there’s nowhere to run. I understand that some people want inmates to suffer, it’s punishment after all for the crimes committed. Some people will take joy to read or hear the torment of someone they never knew. They just know they did something criminal. Inmates are getting what they deserve, to feel hopeless and miserable. Because they placed their victims in such state of emotional and physical distress.

What is pondered often in my mind is, when will it be enough? When will those thirsty for suffering end? Because those who hate people who have hated, still hate , and it’s a vicious cycle. Hate creates monsters so what makes people inside the factory society has created?

“What strength do I have, that I should hope?
And what is my end, that I
should prolong my life?”
Job 6:11

“I loathe my life;
I would not live forever. let me alone,
for my days are but a breath.”
Job 7:16


It’s complex as I try to explain
These changes within,
I’m feeling depressed, repressed
losing control of myself
I’m good and I’m Bad
Bad at being my self
for two weeks feeling weak
nearly ending myself
So I fell to my knees
pleading for help
With an open bible I pray
to the lord and the savior
but the silence was deep
alone in my cell
now I’m fighting these walls
ripping pages out of a book
destroying beliefs
I’m hurt and I’m Scorned
with a middle finger to god
his son and the spirit
didn’t help me for nothing
neglecting my call
so I dig in deep
to stand on my feet
I’m forcing myself
to face my reflection
who’s looking at me?
a kid with tears in his eyes
He’s pleading for life
as I’m making his noose,
Alone in my cell
I’m seeking for help
But the voices telling me
to murder this coward
so the kid in mirror
gets angry and furious
“you stupid dumb shit
what makes you man
when you’re accepting defeat
then wasting my life”
what is done is done,
time to grow and move on
no satisfaction in death
just another one dead.

Suicide is an issue that crosses many individuals who are incarcerated. There are many complicated reasons as to why someone wants to die. I remember once watching a show about Death Row. A Serial Killer was days from his execution date. The man hung himself in his cell. I thought it peculiar that the people awaiting his death, the people who wanted him dead were upset he killed himself. They wanted to know why he killed himself, they wanted to know if he was remorseful. It confused me. Does it matter? You wanted him dead and you wanted to watch him die. You wanted to see him beg and plead for forgiveness. In that moment I realized we are all sick and twisted. Some people just don’t think they are, but when you let them speak long enough it will always show.

There are all sorts of people in distress, suffering something deep within themselves. Some people are in pure self-loathing for many different reasons. I don’t think I am a survivor of anything. I just became a fighter and I pick my battles more wisely. I know what it’s like to be tired and alone, to have everything and nothing. Someone once told me to say “it didn’t happen” to not think back on all the years of prison. I believe to erase the past is to erase all of what makes the current you.

Among the Dead

I know what it’s like
to be tired and alone
As I’ve walked the path
of the truly unworthy
I’ve stood in the midst
of the hurt and the scorned
retreating to darkness
regressing with pain
I’ve sat at the table
of those who have nothing
the lame and the leper
I call them my brother
the voice of the beggar
is mine and its clear
The sound of the downcast
resounds in my ear
My heart is broken
and my soul is bruised
Alone in my cell
with my wicked thought
I beg and I plead,
to be saved from myself
with a pencil and paper
I right my last thoughts
fallen tears down my cheeks
it burns my flesh
the hurt and the pain
is all I can feel
I cut deep into my soul
till my blood fills my pen
shadows they dance
in a bright lit room
Alone and tired
I know how this feels
from the depths of my mind
I struggle to be
to exist in this world
Among the Dead.

The first suicide fucked me up, It affected me greatly. It was a moment in Jail when I was trying to be a “hardened convict”. As a friendly and polite person, socializing and making the best of any situation came natural. However, Jail and Prison required a harder tougher attitude. One day in fall, I was sitting at the back table shuffling cards for no other reason then boredom. A guy way up in the center of the unit was going table to table. It seemed to me he was trying to make friends and not one person was welcoming. I thought this a great opportunity to act tough and tell this random guy to “kick rocks”.

As the guy got closer to my table I ready my word. Sure enough he came up to me and asked to play Rummy, if not Rummy, Spades. I looked him straight in the eyes and said “I don’t know you, Kick rocks”. I felt very proud of myself. I watched the guy walk away, I saw him go to the officer to “pop” his cell door. He entered and closed his door, it was nearly lights out any how.

The next morning we are “racked out” for “mainline” breakfast. The officer did his normal walk around double checking inmates to insure we had opportunity to eat. He was a good Officer, that didn’t have to do that. When the officer reached cell 19, Q unit, he banged the door. No answer. He open the door and as he stepped in I could see his reaction, I knew at the same time what had happen. The guy never woke up.

He consumed all his pills, swallowed strips of clothing and tucked him self onto his bunk. I believe I was the last person to tell this man his last words he ever heard. I told him to “Kick rocks” when all he wanted, all he needed was someone to play cards with. I think I could have changed that outcome, another moment in life I stay wondering “what if”. You just never know who’s life you can impact with a moment of your time.

Forged in Fire
like the fiery hell
where lessons are learned

I see prison as a forest of sick and twisted Trees. We are rooted and stuck yet continue grow as the crows rest upon our branches. Maybe that’s why in every facility I’ve been incarcerated in has been surrounded by crows. It is my own personal belief that the crows are here constantly holding trial upon each one of our sins.

Crows to Free thy soul

Among the twisted tree
Sits the murder of misery,
the sick and the twisted
hold the company of crows
through the pain
and the misery
the seed of hate blooms,
so sits the murder
to feed among the hate
the sacrifice of crows
to free thy soul of pain
Dark is its feathers
for all it may consume
beauty was the crow
before thy soul was hurt
Among the twisted tree
sits the murder of misery
to free thy soul
of the sick and the twisted
A murder is thy company
for all my insidious Sins
Only a crow may forgive.
Among the twisted tree
Sits the murder of misery,
the sick and the twisted
hold the company of crows
through the pain
and the misery
the seed of hate blooms,
so sits the murder
to feed among the hate
the sacrifice of crows
to free thy soul of pain
Dark is its feathers
for all it may consume
beauty was the crow
before thy soul was hurt
Among the twisted tree
sits the murder of misery
to free thy soul
of the sick and the twisted
A murder is thy company
for all my insidious Sins
Only a crow may forgive.

The journey from jail to prison is on a bus. It’s called the Chain Bus and it is a degrading and frightening experience. You can see it in every person’s eyes that they don’t know what to expect. Yet every person musters up the ability to be unfazed. We try to seem as if all is okay even though we are not. Because nothing is okay when you’re on your way to prison.

Forgive me for the things I must do,
show me the way, let me not
be a waste, let me not be forgotten.
Journal entry 2012

I remember looking at all the cars on the freeway from a thin slit on the blacked-out window. The people commuting to work or on their way home or to a friend’s house, not caring or noticing the bus full of shackled criminals. Criminals. That is what we are. Convicted Criminals on a bus. Nothing else.

Nothing else.
Nothing more than a Criminal.

Chain Bus

Stripped down naked
searched to the crack,
Jump into a suit
It’s orange and bright
Shackled and cuffed
belly chains and tethers
With one foot of a stride
you sit on a bench
wait for the others
all shackled and cuffed,
riding to prison
on the chain bus
when orders are given
stand and move out
one foot of a stride
ankles are tethered
from metal on skin
now rubbing you raw
the sounds of the chains
resound in your ears,
board the big bus
careful it’s tricky
shuffle your way
pick a seat and sit down
pray you got friends
at your next destination
the longest of rides
shackled and cuffed,
it’s cold and it’s stale
it’s your breath moving air,
windows are covered
twenty deep in a cell,
the sway of the bus
the sound of the engine
no stops or no breaks
take a piss or a shit,
before your chain bus.

Arriving in prison can turn into a show. People come off the bus searching for a familiar face. When you awaited sentencing in Jail you may have met many people. Most people you can’t stand. However, they are a familiar and in hell a familiar face is an old friend you’re happy to see. As you get processed in and classified at the intake hub, you’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on, without looking lost. Everything you have ever seen on TV and movies comes into mind. Many of the fellas are testing your conduct and flexing the pecking order. It can feel like pure chaos when your mind is freaking the fuck out and you’re trying to hold it together.

Through my eyes, prison is a dark forest of twisted trees. The forest of sick and twisted trees is neglected yet can still be nurtured into a flourishing forest. It’s just not inviting enough for people to take a walk among the forest. Really we do it to ourselves when we allow our negative behavior rule us due to the frustrations. As a result we push people away and sink deeper into self destructive behavior. In a place of misery only misery understands misery.

The Twisted Forest

Into the forest
of wonder and lust
the dark and twisted
are captured and rooted
for all may fear
the wicked forest
angry with fury
the river flows
fear not the forest
of the twisted trees
do only enter
for your dire needs
to see the beauty
hidden by darkness
find the light
among your soul
or feast upon
its devastation
petrified is the forest
of the sick and twisted
follow your river
drink your share
and walk among
the twisted forest
face the pain
deep and rooted
sick and twisted
with beauty and wonder.

Incarceration takes men and women in a roller coaster of emotions. However, let me remind you that, what it took to get into prison was horrible to begin with. Some people break laws some people are accused of breaking laws. What could be the cause of such actions that bring people to commit a crime is many factors. Considering the situations I have experience and become a custom to it could very well be the sense of know how. After many of the people who are in confinement there will always be more. Maybe because the culture of prison leave with the men who have been confined.

I knew many correctional officers before prison. One of the things they use to say was that criminals like prison. I don’t agree with that statement. Prisoners eventually can like prison, not because they actually like it but because it’s all they know. Incarcerated individuals are conditioned for prison. No matter what a correctional officer can say to you their rules are someone else’s rules coming down from the political appointed. They just read the reports to come up with a publicly approved, one size fits all solution. I don’t blame the Correctional Officers for many of their actions, I know they are good people doing their job to the best that they can. However, they still piss me off sometimes.

Prison Corp.

Consider the introspective view,
eradication incorporated by corrections
in connections to this devastation,
The cages, the fights, the suicidal minds,
Motivating the masses
in the darkest of ways,
but some wanna free,
some wanna kennel,
some wanna fund a better way
with two sense and your dime
It’s a critical issue
depicted with lies
the profit in crime
satisfies the production
So we got prisons and jails
with the rotating gates
the frustrations it builds,
the anger it thrills
A warehouse of felons
segregated by race
both women and men
neglected and buried
consuming the hate
with Aggressive behaviors
destroying the brain,
they want to progress
but conditioned for failure,
stupefied by corrections
for the rotating gates
perspectives can change,
but the truth is the same
Invest it your people,
lock them up in a cage
feed’em and clothe’em
then TAX all the rest
those in the middle,
will point all the fingers
as their pockets get heavy
and duly ignored
when business is booming
some got to pay
for a whole lot of puppets
enforcing the rules
believe in the cause,
It’s righteous and true,
Cause it’s criminal minds
breaking the laws
causing civil disorder
and there’s a place for’em all
corporations of prisons
controlling with class
its abuse of the laws
cause who’s gonna pay
when all is in order.


Take a moment to apprehend my words
the lyrical flow to my free verse,
I give you my best yet tell you my worse
Yes, it comes with intent like assault to your brain
attempt to harm you in the deepest of ways
so you can heal in a deeper way
read what I feel and consider these thoughts
it’s a journey through hell, but literally not
like freedom is free, but you pay for it all
progress with the facts, the privilege is true
when appreciation is lacked
you don’t have what you want,
yet you hoard what you have,
the cycle is vicious, selfish and ruthless,
we got kids in distress, suffering neglect,
academics for school, no moral connect,
communication through text,
no intentions are met,
social connects with conditional words,
sweetened by love and respect,
there’s a beauty in lies, like beauty supplies
so I give you my truth as ugly and raw
cuts and bruises will heal
mental trauma will not,
psychological problems, it molds and it kills
when conditions severe,
your damage is done.


Dark clouds and rainy days
not a day seems sunny or made
too much lost and nothing gained
my world was changed
from the tragedy and pain
came the card in the mail
brightening days in a cheesy way
Dracula’s top ten, couldn’t forget
a smile was made, entertain the exchange
like thanks and goodbye
then got the reply
it became the company of two
strangers killing time on the side
what kind thoughts would do
like tear down these walls
lighten my soul, scramble my brain,
extinguishing pain, warming my heart,
focused my path with each letter
through tough days and struggles
found clarity in a pal
sharing the time with words
who would of known improving my mind
one of a kind unique friend
inspiring my brain
passing the time.

Dark Dreams

trapped in prisons even in dreams
sometimes shackled or bound to chains.
A fence never ends nor far from sight
the trench beyond is death to be passed
typical dreams reoccur every night
with no limitations or beginning nor end.
All desires beyond a trench between fence,
heavy fog with its gloom, darkens the night,
no stars nor moon just a lamp overhead.
Alone in my misery, I loath in myself.

All desires just past a fence and the trench,
every night is the same, I’m far from desires
Yet those rarest of nights, a dream with no fence
the world to explore and no want is too far.
you would think all is dandy and fine as it is.
Free from the shackles and prisons alike
a dream with a theme of freedom you think
to give thy soul some aspirations and hope.
Freedom with limits to time and the mind.
then to awake to this reality in hell.

Truth be told, I dread of such things
for what I seek in desire, un-fathomable in all
devastating it is to awake from such visions.
broken and hurt, craving existence in reality
praying for death so I may never awake again
to dire days of life and all you can take
even desires in visions I dream out of reach
for all that is good and is grand taken at dawn.

so let it be dark, shackle me down, bury me deep
show me your smile, satisfaction of power,
display me your evil reflected from pain,
I find comfort in nothing, absorbing your hate
insidious criminal it’s all that you know
into the deepest and darkest a lifetime of hell
let me feast in the punishment
show me your truth I know it too well
your perspective of justice is righteous for nothing
I can sleep well with my dreams empty and dark
trapped in prisons even in dreams
enclosed in a fence is all my reality.


If I didn’t tell you,
you wouldn’t know
you would give me no lip
pass judgment or scorn me,
to keep it real,
you don’t know me,
I’m deep in my issues
all buried in thought
trying to wrestle some Time
can’t capture a second
like a bird in a cage
pondering why I got wings
seeking to fly chasing my high
Smoking or snorting
Meth or the spice
suboxon to escape my soul
Criminal Chemicals Destroying the brain
Unethical cynical symptoms of use,
chasing the high selfish to death,
No problems or guards, prison or issues,
forgetting my name, months in a daze,
blended in all when all is the same
No care for this world locked in this box
it’s your neglect or my high,
options are simple, hate of be loved by
Criminal chemicals for mental abuse
blasting the brain, Numbing the mind
to keep it real, you don’t know me
So why should care?

Systems of Power

From the social groups,
to the criminal lust,
and the artifice of the Just,
with studies and theories,
thesis and essays
brilliance and Beauty,
stories with glory,
Ethics with Questions
The Republic of Plato
With belief in the Gods
so he begged for no life
Socrates, Arrested
tried then murdered,
what is right or wrong
when the masses don’t know
Like numbers and money
economics and classes,
from the first to the low,
Complex but it works
The Power and Force,
they suppress the farmer,
The stocks, the fields,
consumers, we need
through tragedy and hope,
Or hope and tragedy,
prisons and systems,
Families and Armies
Business and Ethics,
money is power.
So how many rich
attend a poor church?

Buried in Issues

Deep in some issues
all buried in thought
Trying to wrangle a day
couldn’t capture a second,
Ruminating why do I try.
like a bird in a cage
perched through the days
I’m extending my feathers,
looking out my confinement,
pondering why I got Wings.
So I’m chirping away
and you think it’s a song
But I’m screaming from sanity
cause I’m bound in this cage
When I see other birds,
their soaring through air
I wonder where do they go?
then dream of their freedom,
But my wings have been clipped
Couldn’t fly if I wanted.
I’m deep in some issues
all buried in thought,
killing time with my rhymes,
then scratching some lines.
Thinking why do I try?
With these words of mind.
Like a dog in a kennel
far from his home
head resting on paws
it’s loud in this place,
as I remember my home
and chasing some birds
Now waiting for kibble,
not wagging my tail
Cause the last time I did
knocked the vase off the shelf
So I’m hanging my head
with my nose to the ground
Cause I know what I did
remorseful I was.
Now I’m trying to speak
so loud through my teeth
you seem kind of frighten
but I’m just trying to smile.
I’m not a bad dog
come and see for yourself
I hope the louder I say it
maybe you’ll listen
But you neglected my kennel
now I’m all by myself.
so it hurts and kills
to keep faces and names
of family or friends
and a place called home.
I’m deep in my issues
all buried in thought
Drowning in pain, gasping for air
learning to coupe
with these chemicals smoked
I’m not a dog or a bird
just another lost cause
buried in issues escaping my mind.

Prison Fight

Let’s get to the needy and gritty,
The main event of the night
Cause it started from words
Like “you a punk ass bitch”,
Disrespect or mis-moved
be ready to fight,
Think you figured it out
we’ll know soon enough,
Cause anything goes
When it’s for your life.
Into the cell, out on the tier
A blade or Pick, ball up a fist
Some want it fair
others don’t care,
Into the cell, out on the tier
Anything goes,
they’re killers and thieves
Gangsters and Soldiers
A lifetime of skills
Suffering PTSD
and they’re ready to kill
maybe learn you a lesson
Over some words
you neglected to think,
So there are losers in cells,
And losers want action
cause the homies be laughing
now we fighting some more
Fight to the death
or till it’s a war
It’s your built-up rage
or maybe it’s fear,
you stay pumping that blood
or crafting your weapon,
Be careful at meals
throats have been slit,
you made a decision
over some threats
so you’re throwing up sets
like everything’s good,
preparing for war
staying ready for more
enemies lurk outside your door,
Shower with shoes, lace them tight
cause anything goes
when it’s for your life,
When you enter a cell
and you’re ready to fight,
Make your fist balled tight
make it hard as a rock,
there’s no ding of a bell
So don’t wait for a move
Strike first and strike hard
Never stop swinging or kicking,
Pick your fights or choose your words
Cause there’s better conclusions
with many solutions,
because once it starts
it’s your blood on the floor
or being dragged out the door
there’s no winners in Prison
just a bunch of losers in cells.

Dear Mom

Through Heart ache and heartbreak
seasons have come and gone
Spring rains, Summer days,
Autumn leafs and winters snow,
visit booths and waiting rooms
razor wire, guards and high towers,
through heart ache and heartbreak,
dark clouds and heavy rains,
thunderstorms in cold nights,
tears shed, your health has changed,
visit rooms in different prisons
ups and downs with a call a day
no holidays, we celebrate
the day we make it out alive
through heart ache and heartbreak
we find a way to live and love,
if I fall you pick me up,
give me a talk and carry on
and if you die before release
remember Mom you taught me well
I’ll be alright no matter what,
and if I die before you go
remember Mom, I made it home.

Mumbled Progression

It’s systematically, radical,
unjustifiable power
one letter short of a COp
they push the abuse
it’s mentally challenging
so I’m playing to win
building my cause
with developed intent
head in the books,
absorbing this power
information of truth
penetrating the brain
no bullets required
devastating with words
you got your opinions
yet lack to progress
falling the deepest
no excuses are left
they want to rattle the cage
find joy in the game
divide for the conquer
now suspicions are raised,
youngsters are vicious
just feed them a cause
lock’em up, beat’em down
place them in systems
raise them as men
confined to these walls
family and friends
developed in prisons,
let me give you a cause
strike hard and direct
learn what you can
break the cycle you in
succeed with some spite
add to your value
utilizing this time
to build and prepare
nothing is easy all is unfair
take your licks well
get them dead on the chin
hit them back with success
they will hate you real well.

Mental Chaos

I got pain within my flesh
Anger within my chest,
every day’s a losing battle
I’m struggling for my composure,
I got murderous, homicidal,
suicidal tendencies invading my cranium,
Neurological trauma, Psychological drama,
insidious serious violent, sex fantasies,
I’m losing my mind due to this time
I’m drowning in my own vomit
cause I’m sick of this life.
But the story doesn’t end
as I’m locked in this box,
within the belly of the beast
I beg and I plead
over open bibles, arced sockets,
blowing smoke finding my high,
overloading my frontal cortex,
In complex, the context, chemical content
Brain damage is what I seek
when compounds flow through my vein
and into my brain,
to help cope with twenty-three YEARS
of continues pain mixed in hate
what a price to pay for the choices I’ve made,
so forged in fire, sharpen by stone,
like the edge of a knife,
it’s sharp and it’s cold,
But the story doesn’t end
as I’m locked in this box,
my thoughts are dark and they’re deep
penetrating my soul, heavy with intent,
I’m intense with my words
my heart is callused and bruised,
a devious deviant or suffering mental abuse,
depression, Neglect, aggravated aggression
mental psychosis progressing from stress,
Here my struggles I face, toe-to-toe with myself
my knuckles still raw from the fight,
with expressions expressed
my ink mixed with blood
But the story doesn’t end
as I’m locked in this box,
from the beginning to end,
I’ve promised fury and rage
dedicated to pain,
But the tables have changed
now I’m starting to change
cause I’m tired fighting every bit of the past,
there’s a future to gain, earn it I will
so the story doesn’t end
as I’m locked in this box.
So what’s your story?


A seat at the table

There was a boy who rebutted god,
packed up his emotions, tossing out religion
one and the same or something different
Either way he felt neglected, a little bit tested
But every step of the way it was a lesson,
Bounced around seeking god in every religion
more of a mission to point out every lie
Your using the same words yet telling me different
infatuated with death and the kingdom of heaven
a book so holy published with all rights reserved
A holy man Reading pages interpreting words
pray at his feet because we are never worthy,
so many truths have been questioned,
Until I had a dream it was more of a vision,
I sat at the table outside the kingdom,
it was more of a wall, with something beyond
not very pleasant nor impressive, ordinary stone.
here sat god and the devil like two old friends,
including a blind man and a devoted sheep of the flock
surprise to my eye what was hard to believe
It was asked of us if we were ready to receive
The holy Gift of God and give us a reason why,
The blind man said I made the best of being blind,
couldn’t see but my eyes were open, never complained
I believed in you god! never lost hope, I’m ready to see.
the sheep said every night I prayed, devoted my life,
shared the word and repented for all of my sins
I deserve this gifts I’ve been promised at birth.
when it was my turn, I just didn’t know
I looked down at the table, then up at the two,
Let me tell you my story, you probably know it too well
born to a world nothing close to perfect, in fact
I got a list of things you could probably improve,
for one I’m scared to death of rollercoasters,
probably because my life was full of drastic drops
and beautiful highs with moments of bliss
then back to the drop with thundering noise
being thrown back and twisted at every turn
just to end up back right where I started,
but rivers are cool, I love the oceans, seen 3 of the 7,
crossed a desert or two, what a view from the cliffs,
Snowcapped mountains are wondrous monuments,
I’ve traveled the land so vast and grand, full of life,
What a beautiful world until we get to the people,
We are all vicious and ruthless, even the saints
we’re judging and critical, full of our selves
Good at making mistakes then say it’s part of the plan,
we manipulate every word to benefit our selves.
see we lie to our selves and we do it too well
compassion is shared and acts of kindness do happen,
it’s not always too drastic but let me tell my truth
I sold my soul at six, wasn’t careful at all
felt cursed ever since, I know I’m going to hell
a chuckle from the devil affirms what I said,
but doesn’t hinder my efforts, to be a better man
I enjoyed many memories and short lived love
things were good then bad, terrible yet amazing
I’ve cried and laughed seen beauty and ugly
done bad then terrible, caused a bit of the hurt
spent time confined in the darkest of places,
I’ve done did some good, was seeking no kingdom
In Fact I’m kinda amazed I’ve made it this far
So back to your question, am I ready to receive your gift?
well I didn’t worship you or pray every day, in fact
I only talked to you when I was suffering deeply
But I did live a life and got some wisdom to share
I’m not wishing for time nor wishing for life
What gift can I get that you didn’t already give
I’m at the table with god and the devil is his friend
A blind man plus a devoted sheep of the flock,
What more do I want when I got stories to share.
And god and the devil have heard what I said.


In New Light

Let me reintroduce my self in a new light
I’m a little bit older, been doing this time
self description is sensible and wise
through hard times, holding on to my mind
clutching my heart in a fist burning my hand.
see I was dead from the start, while forged by fire,
was a sheep for second, till I grew teeth and got hungry
went through a transformation, was dearly departed
found my self in desperation became fully aware
I was living and dying among the dead
Till crows came and fed me some clarity
Only the crows will forgive with each year of my life,
I took the chain bus and learned just a little bit more
became rooted and twisted part of this forest
so I hammered it out, prison corporations and all
with dark dreams and a theme I was buried in issues
falling deeper with time in systems of power
so I balled up a fist, prison fights in the cells
sorry dear mom, then mumbled progression
took an intermission, regrouped and connected
smiled for a while grand time with a pal
in hind sight I was suffering with chaos in mind
Now I’m introducing my self in a new light
With clarity in mind I’m focused and gifted
It took me a while–but I figured it out
Now with a seat at the table I’m finding in time
there’s reasons and rhymes even in this,
a story of devastation, a journey through hell
we’re undoubtedly capable of being unstable
emotionally charged passionate with a cause
bored of repetitive triggers like pain and the hate
due to some change, realizing some things,
You wouldn’t understand so leave it alone
the grand scheme of things brings us to this
You must water and feed to cultivate a nation
grow and do right then bring it to life.