The following are a result of a Free Write (H- Unit):

My Life
Waiting on the mail is all we do,
hoping to get one from the ones
you love, but all you get
is a look at your new life
the one where there's no one,
no one to love, no one to trust
You're all alone in a jail cell
wearing a fake mask
but deep down,
You're the sweetest person anyone knows
The people read the newspaper
and all anyone sees is a gangster murderer
a no good
but if you meet our families,
They'll have a different point of view
The say jail rehabilitates
but it  makes
you the opposite
it makes you stronger
it makes you wiser
but only to make weapons
Shooting up and killing people
this is my life now
so all I gots to say is
have fun
the only way to fly is high
-I. F.

Grateful
 Today I'm just happy to be alive, and even though I'm locked up, I still got the privilege to wake up and drink my coffee cup. I know it could be worse so I don't trip out. I'm thankful to have my mom and my kids on my side but it hurts me a lot to have put them through all this crap. I just hope that they can one day forgive me for all the bad I've done. And maybe, just someday be out there with them and make up for lost time.
 -J. G.

Me
(J)ust sitting in my jail cell
(O)ne on one with my soul
(S)miling now but crying later
     Start to hit the wall in anger from my thoughts
(E)veryday and nigh I stand alone
     Feeling sorry for all the pain I've caused
-J. G.

Shooting Star
As I lay on my back and wish on a shooting star,
You're the only girl I want, and I see us going far,
Yeah, I know these times are tough because your boy's
locked up with bars, but I've got enough of our memory
to drift me deep into Mars
-C. S.

Untitled
Well first and foremost, let me start off this short writing project by introducing myself. My name is Danny. I'm 41 years old (young), I got a beautiful wife named Starr and between us we have 9 kids and 6 grandkids.
I've pretty much been incarcerated my whole life. The first time I went to juvenile hall was when I was 9 years old for joy-riding. From then on I was CYA to prison system. I've been an addict for many, many years. I know that at this moment, I have to make choices for my future because every choice I make not only reflects my future, but the futures of my loved ones as well 
-D.

The following are responses to a spoken word workshop about a social issue that the men in H-Unit are passionate about.


I was only 16 "L-WOP" cuz of  "Murda 1"-
The DA talkin' shit, the judge acting as if I've won
My lawyer's full of shit; does he truly think I'm dumb?
I know he rigged my case, but I don't care, it's all for fun
It's outta spite, it's outta mercy, it's outta pain
I'm doing life now, living with this disdain
I swear to God I'ma do it, I'ma make that change
I'ma do it for myself, Greatness I'll gain
an no hesitance when it comes to better maine
Murder was the case, and Greatness is my NAME...
-C.S.


I'm so tired of waking up in the same place
How I wish I could just go back into time
I don't think I would be sitting here
I would change a lot of stuff that I was doing
But I guess everything happens "for a reason"
and I'm sure God has a plan for me in the long run
I just hope everything works out
And I can go back to my family
-R. Z.


I am going to write about how we only get visits through glass
A 15 minute call is $5 and in reception you don't get calls and you rarely get letters
In Prison you get 7 hour contact visits but in jail I have to do all my visits through glass. Why?
With the amount of money everyone puts on these damn phones we could all get free calls 24/7
Why no phones or contact visits in reception... I don't understand.
-J.

Let me start with the first part
My two children, they are my heart.

Who or What am I?

I am minds evolving toward hateful antics
making people heartless, egotistical, thoughtless
animals mumbling incoherently and are never ever
satisfied
(Methamphetamines)

-K.

Streets
 Woke up in the streets
The ones I creep
Looking for a bag of green
Only 21 and I've already seen
the pain and blood of the streets
But the streets is where I'm from
The streets is where I live
And where I die
The streets made me into the monster I am  now
There's no going back now
I played the game of the streets
and in Jail I sit now.
So be grateful
Cuz the streets will eat you up.
-I.F.

Thinking of You
Thinking of you
My days go by quicker
You are the one that makes me happy
You put a smile on my face
whenever I see you
My heart skips a beat
I feel like I'm floating
So you see, you're me.
You're the air and the food I eat
So without you there wouldn't be me.
Stay by my side
We'll always be like milk and cookies
One don't taste good without the other
I love you Milli and in You I trust
You got my heart and it's up to you\
whether to throw it or love it
-I.F.
 

Kitchens

The following are responses to a workshop in which we described the kitchen of our childhoods. After that, we wrote about someone walking into that kitchen.

-I grew up in a house with six siblings as well as relatives, so the kitchen was a very important space... my mother's kitchen has a huge fridge with see-through glass so you can see in without opening it. The wallpaper had all sorts of veggis and fruit on it. The floor was hard pine wood. It was shiny, the kitchen was always clean. It smelled like cinnamon at all times because my mother cooks lots of sweets with cinnamon... the food that came out of that kitchen was miraculously good.

The person (who walks into the kitchen) is named A_____, my DA. If Alex were to come into my childood kitchen he would change a lot of his opinions of me. He would see lots of violence, my mother being thrown through the main wall that leads to the living room. He would see me at the age of 4-12 hiding and praying not to be beaten by my mother's husband. I would make sure to see him out once we are done eating and ask him what he has to say now! Considering he has degraded me for the past 3 years without thinking about my past or any other aspect of my life besides the crime.

-C.S.

-The kitchen of my childhood that I remember was big: it was always warm, smelled good of mom's cooking, may her soul rest in peace. Sometimes it did get a little loud because older sisters and brothers were partying in the living room trying to talk over one another.

Someone walks into the kitchen of my childhood, if they weren't family or a close family friend they probably got the business from Mom or someone else. If that wasn't the case, it was probably the cops looking for one of my brothers or brother in laws.

-D.

-A long counter and many cupboards and shelves, Smooth surfaces with the smell of lemon cleaner. Very open area with an island close by. A pantry to the side with saloon style doors, a table to the other side that no one ever uses.

A child walks into the kitchen, it is 3 am and he is being sneaky; he creeps in and climbs up onto the massive counter-top. He reaches into the cupboard and silently pulls out and starts eating the mini chocolate donuts. He puts the box back and and slyly slips away. When confronted about eating the donuts last night by his mother, he is shocked. How did you know? He asked. She says that she knows everything he does, and he believes her. Little did he know he had left donut crumbs on the counter.

-J.

Mission Statement

The Inside Out Writing Project began as a way to engage personally
and critically with women at the Santa Cruz County jail facilities through
writing workshops. The group has since extended to the male units, while
continuing workshops in the Blaine Street facility and the female units at
the Main jail. As the group progresses, we aim to use the workshops as
a way to maintain the relationships between the jail, the university, and
the Santa Cruz community. During the workshops, the interns have used
creative writing and art to interact with participants and encourage a safer
space for expression. Because IOWP is operated out of UC Santa Cruz,
we constantly try to reconcile the university with the often-forgotten jail.
We also recognize that the jail and the people that it houses are often
disconnected from the greater Santa Cruz community. We wish to bridge
the geographical and symbolic rifts that exist between the spaces of the
university, the city, and the jail.

As an organization, IOWP attempts to be a vessel for bringing the
community back into the jail as a way of establishing solidarity. Although
the group experiences many changes because of its rotation of interns,
we are sustained by our desire to critically analyze the prison system as
an expansive institution that incarcerates an ever-increasing number of
bodies.