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 Now that my physical freedom has been revoked, I find myself more compassionate to others, wanting to live, ever more & remembering my father's words: “there's no better advice than the advice life gives”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.