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| THE CELL INSIDE MY MIND I hope to help you understand There are no prison bars for me Like those of concrete and steel I live in a House of the Free. I knew well enough A prisoner's horrible plight But it never came home and visited me 'til that awful, painful night When my son confessed a deed That tore my guts apart and ripped a hole in our family's honor and broke his momma and sisters's heart You never know how much it hurts To see a dead one alive That's what my son looked like to me And to his momma's and sister's eyes. We all cried a lot that first year and blamed each one in turn, For somehow we had failed him Guilt is a terrible burn. All the old Truths we thought we believed Like Christ, and Church, and God Just pulled away and left us numb And kicking at the sod -- I didn't know what to expect Nor what I hoped to find Besides being an emotional wreck I found a Cell Inside My MInd. There were guards as mean as hell Who told me what to do And at any moment, for any reason My head would feel their shoe These were only mere thoughtforms Not like in a prison you might find But more horrible than tongue can speak This Cell Inside My Mind. Cars and people were everywhere and lovers on TV but I was in Jail with him No way in hell could I be free. So I hated to think on him or write one small damn note For every thought to write on paper Was a blade against my throat So I just tried to forget him As I ran in shadows deep But he would not let me go and troubled me in my sleep. Now I just had to face it Come hell water swift or kind I was the tortured Father locked up In the Cell Inside My Mind. FATHER OF PRISONER #13392224 |
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| Life has its moments, tragic, funny, happy, transcendent. This is my first ever attempt to publicly express one of the tragedies of my life. This is my first public journal attempt at baring my soul.......... The judge is glaring the people are staring the chains they jangle as the orange suits flash by. The attorneys confer the tension's a blur, the chains release One as he sits in the chair. The black hair is flowing the soul shakes from knowing from this day forward all life will be changed. The eyes veiled by lashes the silent tear splashes as sentence is passed and time it stands still. I finally draw breath as I've witnessed this death the chains they jangle as the orange suits flash by. The grandson is sleeping slowly life is creeping back to my heart -- for a new life's begun. MOTHER OF PRISONER #13392224 |
| FREEDOM a poem by Amy Starkey Freedom is to dance wherever, whenever Freedom is to look someone in the eyes and smile Freedom is to moan in pure ecstasy Freedom is to shout full of bursting, bubbling energy Freedom is hugs without expectations Freedom is to cry at beauty Freedom is to question reality Freedom is to have tears streaming down your face while walking alone Freedom is to love and raise your hands in the air and sing that lovely song, hum that tune, scream or be silent Freedom has no need to compete Freedom is to be Freedom is about respecting yourself Freedom gives everyone the right to create Freedom is light Freedom is loving yourself Freedom is accepting faults Freedom is to believe Freedom is to imagine anything you please Freedom is shouting "everyone is beautiful!" Freedom is stating your mind Freedom is dreaming Freedom knows no limits |
Self Sentence Barrington Jay We lovers of freedom have become Locked in the chain of desires: We clatter around like convicts Separated from what we long for most; Resigned to chasing illusions Beneath the engulfing shadow of security We have created the rogue that we like least: A thought that dictates We will never have enough. Naturally: we would like to go home But we have minds so filled With the constraints of the free That we’ve forgotten what it actually feels like. When will we remember that It’s only by detachment Can we lovers of freedom shorten the sentence? We are now like prisoners to approval As we sit in our comfortable cells Painting pretty pictures of ourselves And yet, for all our creativity, We never realise The true art of life hiding within The formlessness of our being. And while we, the lovers of freedom, whittle away the time, Just beyond the rusting bars Freedom waits, Like a mother unable to cradle her young. |
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. Maya Angelou |
| Wednesday's Child is full of woe |
| Updated: 12/2007 |