The following were written by the men in various workshops over the past few weeks.

A tree has a long life span

Like lovers expect when they grow together

Sometimes those lovers make love over time

Like a tree that grows fruit

Or like a couple that has kids

The more you water it

The better it becomes

And the longer the life span grows

From the beauty of nature

by Anonymous

The image in front of me shows a boat with two individuals

Sailing toward a mind

The mind is shown as a brain

In the middle of the body of water

While another mind sits further back

What this signifies to me

Is that these two individuals are trying to find

Sanity

By reaching the inside of their own minds

Through a journey

They share this journey together

And must overcome it together

Only then can they find sanity

And live in peace

I believe the journey they undertake

Is taking place subconsciously

While they lay unconscious

In the physical world

They have a band or link

Driving their minds into one

by Anonymous

It’s forming like a tidal wave

But looking more like a dragon

With teeth like mine

I think I see a choo choo train

Trying to escape from its chompers

by S.L.

As I look in the mirror

I see a face that reflects Death

Through the pain and the lies

That are laid to rest

I hear screams echo through that man’s chest

One chance

One life

I guess I failed the test

by C.S.

I want to live in a world

That doesn't judge a book by its cover

Here is what I know for sure

That people change

by E.G.

My daily routine in county jail

Is something that I do everyday

Wake up and thank God

For another day of livin’

by M. L.

I believe life is what you make it

And you could do what you want

As long as you put your mind to it

I want to live positively

I could be successful when I get out

And do what I desire

And accomplish my goals in life

by R. R.

I believe in God and second chances

I want to live in a world where there is peace and not violence

Here’s what I know for sure

One day

I’ll be home

by R.B.

In honor of  Halloween, the women wrote stories or poems that were inspired by a collection of ghost stories and scary stories.

Probably about 7 or 8 months ago, I was walking on the West Side of Santa Cruz late at night.  I kept feeling like something/one was following me but every time I looked back there was nothing.  So I just thought nothing of it and kept walking.   I turned back again cuz it really either felt like something was there or I had heard something and when I turned back to look it felt like something was right there behind me.  I jumped about three inches forward faster than I ever thought I could move and after that it stopped.

By N.R.

Love’s Ghost

Spirits, demons, the very presence

            of the paranormal

The super-natural, the scary.

Bone-chilling screams and

A whole lot of the unknown

I am excited, intrigued

By that of which we can’t always see.

You see what terrifies me

Is my past history

            Repeating as my reality

The presence of your love

            Lingers

Like the high of my favorite

Drug

The ghost whispering “I love you”

            In the middle of the night

The phantom embrace

            After I turn out the lights

The out of this realm bond

The unseen connection

            The ultimate lovers song.

The gentle tease of your fingers

            On my lips

When I close my eyes…

In your absence

I invite your ghost

To haunt me all the time

Demons don’t scare me

Life without your touch terrifies me.

By E.

The following poem was not in response to a prompt.

Goodbye - Hello?

Goodbye, hello, go away, come back, leave -- wait!
I need you here, now, with me...
I need you gone, far, away from me.
Love -- hate -- misunderstood passion
Love me!  Hate me!  Anything at all
As long as all is me.
I'm too weak to leave on my own
But too strong to release my hold.
Destruction, pain and memories
of better days, smoother times...
Leave! Stay--
Go! Come back
Leave me alone!
How could you actually go?
It wasn't real for you --
      It must have been fake --
           You don't love me!
Words of hate
Would it be easier to accept if they weren't true?
This picture I unfairly paint of you.
Not giving credit where credit is due.
Because if I make you them,
The problem isn't all me, it must be you.
What do I do if the reason you left our dreams
Isn't only you, but mainly because of me?
I ignored the signs, made mistakes all the time.
I said 1,000 "I'm sorry's," and only few apologies
I watched us wither and die.
Communicate?  I tried.
I'm weak, broken, tired
A stranger to my own eyes,
A monster in yours.
Leave, goodbye, stay away
Come back!  I love you, we'll get better!
Crunch -- your knee hitting my face
Squeeze -- my hands at your throat
Wet -- tears in our eyes
Sting -- the names we scream
Whoa -- we wish the other to die
Purple -- always around my eye
Low -- beneath the scum on the floor
Lower, beneath roots of all trees
And, even lower, is where I fall.
Tiny is how I feel
Unworthy is how we feel
Not good enough
But wait! Don't go, although you should.
Plug your ears maybe you won't come back
Too much damage for this to end nice
No pretty goodbye
If you leave I think I might die
But if you stay I'm sure I will
Go away!  But not too far --
Don't look at me!  But don't look away --
I love you, but hate what you do!
Leave, go away!  Goodbye -- come back!  Hi... Hello?  Are you there?!

by E.

The following were written in response to a prompt to write poems about superheroes.  

Jesus...

     Sunshine has a way of making everything more beautiful.  Even the morning glint on the razor wire.
     The miracles he bestows upon me and others is amazing.  Poems I've read today, thoughts and reflections, and then this class, help me to continually realized that I am blessed in spite of my circumstances.
     Friendships ~ that share both joy and pane.
     My hero is Jesus.  He's everywhere, all around me, and he never lets me down.
     Amen.

by S.C.


Scarlett

Her long flowing dresses, flowing all around.  The bell of the ball.
Healthy, snappy, and smart.
Determination.  Courage.  Freedom.
Perseverance and beauty.  Determination.
Passion, tears, sorrow, and pain.
But also flamboyance, integrity, love, and again passion.

by S.C.


FRIENDS...

I need a hero ~ a hero to rescue me from my circumstances.  Does he exist?  Maybe.  I think so.  I think he exists in a friendship I have, who talks to me and understands me.  He hurts when I hurt.  He thinks I'm beautiful.  I think that true genuine friendships are my super-heros.  Throughout my life, whether they be male, female, young or old, or even a cat... they've made a positive impact in my life, that turned my situation around from negative to positive, and made me feel like a million bucks.

I think genuine friends are my superheroes.

by S.C.


From Villan to Hero

La Fem I named myself, stealing from the rich, giving to the poor.  Nakita got way out of hand but bad guys always get caught.  Then an angel named Domenika came and the roles changed and a superhero became now a god, in my son's eyes I can do no wrong and I'll always go above and beyond.  Scratch that, to infinity and beyond cuz now this mommy super hero can do no wrong.

By D.G.


If I was a super hero
I'd just fly
I'd get higher than any Drug could possibly take me
let my heart guide me
As I sore through the aching
An escape from the hate
I await for
love to undertake
me

by N.R.


Good vs. Evil

Villain or hero, is there really a way to know?
Depending on where you sit
Depends on what you see
Perspectives often change from where you see the screen
Too quick to maek up just what it is we think
Often the path of hero is one we wouldn't dream
Lonely, lovesick, often seen as a menace
Still always fighting for whats right
Evil sits and laughts, plots, and schemes
Takes foolish pride in the wrongful blame
     of a great heroes fame.
True -- when all is said and done
     It's the hero who hears the crowd sing
But then again,
who says the villain is the bad guy
and the hero a friend
From where I sit the villain could be my celly
And she's not that bad just a little misunderstood
And from where I sit the hero is a bad guy
     with a gavel
Who judges my fate on only bad interactions and never speaks any good
In my life evil is where I find love and it holds
Good is fake smiles and pretending everything won't
     fall out of place if one tooth is crooked
Evil wins for me because it's what society is scared of.
And what they fear is truth
Where I stand, I need freedom
Ugly or not the truth is real
My hero is truth, the world's evil is honesty
    Both can one day set us free

by E.

The Following poems are not from prompts:

Word to the Wise

Sentenced to life revealed to me, understanding in life, accepting the good with the bad, found true love, peace and beauty in all, which I never knew while I was physically free. Now that my physical freedom has been revoked, I find myself more compassionate to others, wanting to live, ever more & remembering my father's words: “there's no better advice than the advice life gives” and “life is beautiful if you know how to live it.”

-R.H.

9/23/13

The Golden path to... somewhere

To be let down, just one dream away

to find your path, rutted, unpaved

It began so smooth, a promising destination

Step by step, however, beholds further desolation

The promising path, gloriously golden

Is making you question; was it the right path chosen?

Because the further you walk, your way darkens in mist,

now you're just befuddled as fuck, starting to get pissed

So the question of all questions.. is this the path of gold?

Should I plow ahead burdensomely, or should I create one of my own.

-T.F.

4/1/13

Ink Pen

You do a job all day

so the artist knows his love

you do a job all day

albeit pushed and shoved

you do your job all day

for the artists knows no love

you do your job all day

Why? Just because.

Or

Ink Pen

You do a job most artists love

All day, pushed and shoved

Ink pen, you still do your job...

What the fuck?

-D.L.

4/13

She isn't proud of what she does

but does it all the same

she knows she's just playing the roll

of some man's lonely game

At first it held excitement

but that's long since grown old

her body is growing tired now

her heart's long since turned cold

D.F.

4/13

Medicine

My love is pure, I know for sure

Cuz if I get sick, you are my cure

Your words, they heal me

your eyes, they steal me

I wish so much you could hold and feel me

Unconditional love for only for you

when you're not with me I come unglued

losin' my mind

one day at a time

I start to freak out

I guess I'll be f.i.n.e.

Freaked out, insecure,

neurotic and emotional

all these feelings are uncontrollable

I find myself not sociable

I sit so very depressed

all these times you hit me in the chest

pushed me away

I tried my best

I love you my love

forget the rest

I stay loyal to you with each and every breath

p.s. somehow this is for you

-J.L.

4/13

The following are responses from a prompt about turning the mundane into something beautiful:

Hard to Love

It is so simple a kiss

then she starts to wash a dish

Fresh coffee made.

She suggests we go watch the parade...

listening to broken butterflies.

It sometimes makes you feel better to hear their pain.

Is every day the same?

The the end when I went to judgment day

to have prayed and to have prison delayed

so I may love her on my birthday.

But my love could not take the pain,

to find out she had run away to Blaine.

But can I blame?

Never I pray that we can love again.

But will my love ever flourish?

I just take medicine

I may never will

-D.

Sip sip slurp slite sip

hot coffee on my lip

so morning, noon and night

got to have something

that sends me out of sight

such to say it's a part of

each day in day out crazy

way in part out of sight

cup cup cup coffee not tea

got to have it

for you for I and we

Just taking time

by making it through each mundane Monday

What to say to my coffeeshop bab

nother day nother day

Out of sight in some way

Kicking it, sipping it, loving it

coffee shop bab loving each day

-C.D.

Mundane, my Monday

Ahhhh, rise-n-shine, it's program time

Where's my socks at? My feet are cold

I wipe the eye booger out my eyes,

roll up my mattress and I'm ready to go

Colombian roast in my cup

One sweetener one creamer

that's my cup of joe

Oh, is it last call? Fuck it, I'm over it.

I'm going to let my cup cool and use the restroom

Brush my grill as I'm holding my thang thang

Wait a minute, did I wash my hands?

Back to my cup of joe,

just perfect, sip ahhh

Now I'm headed to the patio for a breath of fresh air

ahh, rise and shine, it's program time

-S.L.

Mundane

My daily routine in County Jail

Something I do every day

Wake up and thank God for another day of livin

-M.L.

Well... my daily routine, every day

I get up like around 9 or 10 am

I take a piss then brush my grill and wash my face

I fold my blankets and make my bed

Sometimes I clean my cell and scrub my sink

and metal toilet, it depends on if I'm in the mood

Then I make myself a cup of coffee

With cream and sugar if I got it

After I enjoy my coffee,

I head to Estiva's cell and wake his ass up

and ask if he'd like to work out

And if we're lucky, get the radio

and work twice as hard to get our money

So beautiful, just feeling good

bout myself staying fit

-M.S.

When I get up ready for a brand new day,

I make my bed, brush my grill , wash my face and make sure I don't have any eye boogers or anything like that... then I head out, drink some nice hot coffee and greet my fellow convicts. This right here is my “mundane” for now.

-R.B.

Writing this comes from within

Because it is me; my own

When I really gave it attention, I found

the beauty and the ecstasy that it can release

in deep concentration.

It's the character where choices come from... feelings

-R.H.

More poems from San Quentin

More poems from Carlos, who is currently hunger striking at San Quentin's Adjustment Center.  The Adjustment Center is a Special Housing Unit (S.H.U.) inside of Death Row.  Carlos keeps a personal support blog here.

For more information about the ongoing hunger strike, which prisoners have organized to protest the inhumane conditions of solitary confinement, please go here.  Also, if you're interested in becoming a penpal, please send an e-mail to the Human Rights Penpal Project at cws@igc.org.



Never Unscathed

I am just a man
Who is trying to survive
In this miserable place
Doing all I can
To maintain my sanity
In a place that requires you
To be a bit insane.

For how else am I to overcome
And survive this psychological torture?
Survive the evil within this dungeon
That I've come to call
Death Dormitory
Hoping the scars aren't many
Yet knowing I'll come out a different man,
Though how so is yet to be seen.

For one never leaves these dormitories
Unhinged or unscathed
No matter how one struggles
To survive in this mieserable place
Whose claws forever leave their mark.


Untitled

California's San Quentin State Prison ...
Death Row prisoners' final home
Holds a "compartment" 
Its own secret "dungeon"
called the Adjustment Center
Built to house the "worst of the worst"
And confine them to this unit alone
Isolated from everyone
Not for safety or security reasons
But to inflict their torturous practices
Onto those prisoners they hold in disdain
See how long they can last
Before they're broken ...
Before they cry out for help 
Which goes unheeded.
Recall what I said earlier
Built to house "the worst of the worst"
So violence must be dealt to the violent
That is their philosophy
And the outside world has ignored it
Ignored it for far too long.
It is why we've opened up this hidden compartment
And placed our lives on the line.
Streaming out our stories
Showing you the truth
Hoping you'll accept it is as harsh as it is
And help us correct these horrendous "practices"
This injustice ...


Untitled - written on 7/13/13

This is a difficult test
A test of my will power
And mind over matter.
As each stomach cramp passes
I double over in pain
Hugging myself in hopes
That'll ease the pain
But that's only the beginning
'Cause afterwards the squirts come
Worse than any diarrhea
I ever had
As nothing but water pours
I tell the others,
"Trust no fart!"
Which gets me an uproar of laughter
Ironically easing my pain
And giving me comfort
As we go on day six of our hunger strike
And test my capabilities each passing day


When Will Solitary End?

I sit in solitary confinement, 
Monitored and evaluated
Psychologically tested,
Tortured in more ways than I care 
To remember or burden you with,
With hopes I'd crack and beg,
Beg to be let out of this torturous place
And crack, losing the bit of sanity I have left
Like so many others before me and so many others
Yet to fall, fall prey to the prison's administrators
To the countless tactical torturous games they play.

I am but one of the few hundred who still stand strong,
Fighting to survive, accumulating deep embedded scars
With each passing day, learning to be resilient to all
That's thrown and piled up against me
In such a difficult, miserable place.

Lonely and deprived of so much, I sit here
Beyond desperate for a helping hand, for something,
Someone, for a movement, for human rights lawyers
And all the advocates out there to put an end
To this heinous practice of solitary confinement
And take me away from this place with my dignity intact.
I hope it's soon, before many more fall prey
And lose themselves in this dungeon of hell and misery
That's been in place for far too long.


Untitled

My actions will soon come
Hoping that they'll draw the attention needed 
To end this heinous practice
Once and for all.
The practice of solitary confinement.
The day quickly approaches when I'll refuse to eat,
When my body and mind will be tested
And sacrificed for the greater good,
For this peaceful protest, this hunger strike,
That's my only form of seeking relief,
My last outcry for help
And support,
To come together and end these death dungeons.


Untitled

What will it take to realize that time is essential
To one's sanity within these circumstances,
To one's self-respect and humanity?
What will it take to end solitary confinement?
Is 33 suicides in these dungeons last year alone enough?
Enough, for you, my captors?
Or shall I succumb in this hunger strike as well,
Before you realize something is amiss here?
What will it take?
Please, tell me, tell us, what?

Poems from San Quentin's Adjustment Center

These poems were shared with a friend from his penpal, Carlos, who is currently hunger striking at San Quentin's Adjustment Center.  The Adjustment Center is a Special Housing Unit (S.H.U.) inside of Death Row.  Carlos keeps a personal support blog here.

For more information about the ongoing hunger strike, which prisoners have organized to protest the inhumane conditions of solitary confinement, please go here.  Also, if you're interested in becoming a penpal, please send an e-mail to the Human Rights Penpal Project at cws@igc.org.



Hope

What has brought an immense population of inmates together
For once,
All racial lines and barriers, erased
Forming a unity amongst thousands
And a united group, one body
Tired of the injustice that plagues this world
The cruel methods being practiced
With the false pretense that it's for safety
The safety and security of the prison.
For no man or person is different from the next.
All equally capable to inflict pain or bring peace.
What law says subjecting its people
To torture dungeons is acceptable?
If it's not right for animals
Than what makes it right for human beings?
Perhaps it is the cruelty that we have suffered
At the hands of our captors
That make it possible for us to unite
And oppose them.
Or maybe we tire of seeing this done to so many
Of seeing so many being done wrong
Or we finally woke up to the truth and saw reality
That nothing nor no one will help change this
Unless we ourselves become the change
This is so desperately needed.
Whatever the reason may be, one thing I'm certain of
Is that hope is part of our driving force.
Hope for change at last.


Suicide or Insanity?

The yells of a man
Who's deranged
Fill the tier
Speaking non-sense
Speaking to no one,
For hours...
It's obvious he's lost his wits
Still he's left there
Without any help,
Without...
For days.

He used to be alright
People who know him say.
He used to be "normal" ...
What caused that though?
I can't help but ask.

The Adjustment Center ...
Solitary Confinement ...
Is always the answer I get
When I ask how a man went insane.

Then I count how long I've been here
And wonder how long 'til I go insane.

What's left to do besides wait?  I ask them,
My fellow prisoners.
Suicide, they all say.
Suicide or Insanity.
That's what solitary confinement breeds,
Why that deranged man continues to yell
Every single day.

S__'s Uplifting Poem

Melodramatic Sailor Jerry speed addict

Spit flows with no static

Hit you lie an automatic

My lyrics so crisp

so sharp that they diss

all the bunk shit I miss

call it lyrical gifts

Got shit to get out

I'll let you know what I'm about

I ain't getting out

for years with no doubt

But I can' cry or pout

I got to stay sane

with a smile on my face

and good thoughts in my brain

It's part of the game

experience to gain

Reality is that I'll be here a while

But that's the repercussion for acting hostile

Acting without thinking

Letting impulse take control

Signed my soul to the devil

For the speed that I sold

It stole away any conscience I once had

It made me do something stupid just cuz I got mad

So regrets are not needed

not here, not now

We all make mistakes

But some of us allow

the hardships to break us

to weaken our faith

We've got to accept it's all part of Fate

Don't question the battles we struggle to fight

Just know at the end of the tunnel's a light

So sorry if this sick rap faded into a poem

Just got a grip on some real shit that's got to be known

So you see me fighting murder with a smile on my face

It's cuz I'm blessed with insight, acceptance, and grace

-S.G.

The Following are the result of a prompt in which we wrote from the perspective of a raindrop:

Women's Unit

Coming down like rain

such as the experience I've gained

Spent years in the Game

With no regret and no shame

Like an unexpected shower

Such is the mind's power

Mind over matter

I think every hour

It's all up to you

What you really want to do

Your mind is a sanctuary

It makes you You

So forget negativity

You manifest things

Use your brain power

like rain in the spring

Let it be refreshing

useful and cold

Let your mind stay open

Watch miracles unfold

So write about Rain

And things similar

If it weren't for rain

Green grass wouldn't occur

All things would be dry

Undernourished and dead

So use your brain to live happy

and be free instead.

-S.G.

Rain

I knew it was coming

The smell of it almost breathtaking

Gives me chills touching ever so lightly

All over my skin

Almost as cold as the concrete I'm lying on

It was the small things I took for granted

I sit dwelling on how I chose to take the path

yet again

To give another year of my life away

A year taken from my son and newborn girl

Angels I've yet to know

Like little raindrops lost in a world or souls

to be re-cycled to the ocean

Then back to the clouds above....

Sometimes, and now even more so

Now my heart like a raindrop

filled with love

falling from the heavens

Cause my mind's in Cloud 9

Scared as to where it will fall and break

Or should I say splash?

Waiting for the sun to dry away

My heart's broken memories

And the Past

-N.G.

Raindrops

For me raindrops are the beauty and pain

As a small child it wasn't easy to explain

How I came up with the story that God was crying for me

See, his tears had a power and that power was clear

I believed he was sad when he looked through the clouds

To see a young child staring at life already full of doubt

Every time it rained and it stormed

I'd sit alone and look up at the sky

It was the only time I could really cry

Mommy said He was washing my soul

Little did she know

Standing alone out in the cold, storm after storm

One day God's teary raindrop showers

would wash away the only thing I've ever known

Fear became a stranger & Love became my home

-E.

The following are the result of a prompt in which we explain/ describe nicknames we've had:

Women's Unit

The names I was given are hard to live up to~ when I know there are times when I don't feel like waitressing/ or cleanin'

My name has been changed to protect my innocence

When you imagine who I am without even knowing my true name

We can have a conversation and talk for hours on the deepest level -you know me

But you don't know my name

Every morning at roll call, they call out our names

And if we don't answer ~ they start searching

It scares me to think I may not answer

Because of all the facets of my characters and all that I am

Whats in my name ~ so hard to live up to

You gave me my name~ and I shed a tear

Because today I clean the walls and run into them carelessly

I am naked

Without shoes or a bra

And all that's left behind are bluepreints.

-C.J.

5/30/2013

D-Unit

My father's nickname – Trapper Jim

He was giving it his all

Upon the ocean depths of the Bay

He could always find his catch

When other fishermen couldn't

He would crack a beer at sunrise

Followed by a filterless smoke

Unshaved, unbathed, baiting his hooks

His pals would call him on his VHS radio...

“Trapper Jim, where's the fish?”

He'd reply: In my fishbox. See ya on the inside

(Trapper out)

-T. MC

My nickname is Popeye. They call me that because if I didn't like you, I'd pop you in the eye.

So that's how I got my nickname

-R.M.

Greetings Earthlings. My name is Mystic.

I bring to this world- understanding, wisdom and knowledge.

I long for the day that we can coexist with one another and turn up the love.

I am a very mysterious being that seeks truth.

My numbers are 5 and 7.

My magical birthstone is Turquoise.

My ruler planet is Jupiter.

I leave you with the message -Reach for Heaven and you will get Earth.

Reach for Earth and you will get nothing.

I see.

-A.H.