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?
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