Tuesday, April 3, 2012


Poems by Inmates




CLIMBING THE WALLS

 sweating, pulling and holding so tight
I'm climbing the walls with all my might
searching, hoping and wishing
for my life
praying they won't see me
in their searchlights
Determined, anxious with fright...
that I get over these walls
before the guard sights.
climbing the walls is a struggle
I must endure..
the rope is long. and broad and
I'm halfway near, and the time
is counting down, but if I
fall now... it's back down to
one, climbing the walls to freedom...

         -- Schunwand Parham (aka Mann)


LIFE

 Life is a story of buildings falling
Life is a wave splashing against the seashore
Life is the soaring of a falcon
Life is a caterpillar developing into a butterfly

 Life is the beauty and process inside oneself
Life is a token of living

 Life is a gift from the stars... we all shine

 Life is the brightest of skies, the sunniest sun,
the clearest clouds and gloomiest moons

 but life without you or your love
is a comet hitting me as its target...Doomed?

             -- Schunwand Parham (aka Mann)
FALLING DOWN

 I'm falling slowly... I'm a leaf departing from its branch, never touched rock bottom but I know it's hard... I've seen my elders fall to their death... I've witnessed their roots crack when they dried up and couldn't hold on no longer... I heard the loud boom-crack sound... But I'm just a leaf. I wonder, is my fall going to be that hard? One day an elder branch told me a story about some leaves from a far away country... It startled me at first-I didn't know my ilk was so vast, and have many different shades, shapes, types, and colors, but I did know, and learned from an elder oak tree that "We represent the reason why life still exists, and have major significance and are as much needed for the longevity of human beings, insects to animals... yeah! those who chop us, burn us, eat us, bruise us, abuse us, climb, write, and build with parts of us, heal themselves with us, squeeze us to death, and violate our essence in every which way... they take all life out of our holder's roots, " Mr. Oak once told me.

 It's a shame we do so much for these guys and in return we face Annihilation! Some sacrifice themselves to benefit the world but greed usually breeds destruction and chaos... an elder Pine once told me, "Sooner or later we're all going to vanish if things persist, and the world is going to need us... some say each breath a human or animal takes is because of our little cousins-flower and plants? Well, hopefully, when it's my turn to drop after the changing season when the God Autumn comes around, I'll fall light and soft as a leaf!

                              -- Schunwand Parham (aka Mann)


DOING TIME TO CLEANSE MY MIND

 Doing time to cleanse my mind
from all the evils of Mankind
I've transferred from a slow wit
into an educated Black Poet
once trapped inside an old no good
crime-infested neighborhood
called Far Rockaway.
Doing time to cleanse my mind
from all the evils of Mankind
I've learned to stay away from negativity
and live my life righteously
as I share my heart
through the precious arts of Poetry.
Doing Time to cleanse my mind
from all the Evils of Mankind
in a classroom at the far end
of a long hallway,
it touched my heart to know
some people aren't afraid
to teach someone
so close but far away.

                  -- Nathan Wheelings
UNEASY BARS

Every day these bars in front of me bring pain to me.
I try to block it out of my mind. But
every time I look around they're taunting me.

 Or is it me? Feeling sorry for the things
I did in the past? I pray to God that this pain
will pass. As I pray
my mind becomes at ease with inner peace.
As days grow longer and nights shorter,
I stand tall, back straight, head up, eyes focused
and head strong. Behind these uneasy bars
Life must go on.

 Somewhere there's a door just waiting for me,
If only I could escape these uneasy bars.
If I had one wish all my brothers and sisters
would join together and hold hands and walk with me
through these days of uneasy bars.

                                          -- Abdul Aziz


(untitled)

 In life I need not worry
about the agonies of being born
with a cultural handicap.
Sentenced at birth to a Ghetto
almost less than death,
I'm only a seed planted in dry soil
with the life span of a species
soon to be extinct
In life I need not worry
As I make new friends
that don't understand my dignity
or appreciate my loyalty
to those I love.

 I'm only the darkest cloud in the sky
not many understand
as my rains enrich the soil.

 In life I need not worry
about the pain I feel deep down inside
sharply concealed to the best of my ability.
I'm just the atmosphere
abused by those I protect
from the closest star that glows
93 million miles away.

                       -- Nathan Wheelings


GROUP POEM WRITTEN IN CLASS
(after seeing photos of ravens at The Tower of London)

 Man, me mine
I sit in my jail cell in silence
dark, empty, sad
flying, crying, ain't got no wings
can't go nowhere

 freedom is silence
injustice in my captivity
causes me to be a motivational explorer
yet I remain motionless
a thinker who has thought
about ravens
the raven who is called vicious
is not death

 our wings are clipped
"THE RAVENS" INCARNADINE: RED

 Penitentiary + Penal system + Jail
Maximum. Maximize. Maxi. Medium.

Minumum. Minimize. Mini. Incarceration. Imprisonment. Confinement.

 Every time I glance across the walls of this penitentiary

 I can feel them. Then I hear the voices cry out
of convicts incarcerated long before my time
in this concrete jungle

 Someone please stop this revolving door..

 Ancient invention called a penitentiary
equivalent to a bottomless pit
or a maze the size of the deep blue sea
anyone could see that crime has maximized my insecurity.
On the streets we roam, some in packs,

 others alone. Hard rocks, minorities with a grill of ice
in our stare and not a teardrop of fear in our cold hearts.

 Some even crave to see
the inside of the penitentiary,
yet to know at the right temperature
even rocks liquidate
and every ice grill has its melting point
so please stop before it's to late.

                         -- Nathan Wheelings
PRECIOUS FIRE 

My soul stays on fire for your precious
love, yet I feel conquered and exiled
when you don't reciprocate my strong
deep feelings for you.
Am I unworthy of
of being loved like this? Loved by
you? Like my brother Jalil said,
What color is your blues?
Mine
is sometimes the color of this paper,
light blue, not dark blue, blue enough
that at night I still have visions of you.
Blue, like the fire with other
colors interspersed: within, yellow,
red, white, but mainly blue.
What do I
have to do to convince you that I
am truly in love with you?
Should
I write this poem in red? The color
of blood, my blood? Would that
show you just how much I love you?

                                              -- Jazzy
TO: ALL OF YOU SOMEBODIES

 I feel it's impossible for a person
who hasn't yet found themselves
to make a commitment
to be something "for life."

 Before one can be anything "for life'

 they have to make a strong commitment
to themselves, to stay themselves
and love themselves for life,
In order to make such a commitment,
first one has to stop looking so far away,
to find themselves and rush to the nearest mirror. (continued)

 In the process of picking up
such a wonderful gift,
hold it tight!

 And fall so deep in love with yourself
that you'll soon be counting a million blessings,
the more you learn to know and understand yourself.
Your eyes will become open
to all of life's toughest obstacles,
granting you the strength
to survive the worst
as you love and cherish
the best.

                      -- Nathan Wheelings
THE RAVENS IN MY EYES

 Motionless dark Ravens
living their bird lives

So silent!
So dark!
So sad!

 Man, mean, mine
how could anyone leave them so far behind
Motionless dark Ravens
living their bird lives
in a tower far out in London
in colorful shackles they've been confined
Man, mean, mine
how could anyone leave them so far behind
Motionless dark Ravens
living their bird lives
flying, crying, ain't got no wings
with only tourists to hear them sing
what could they've done to deserve these things!


The fear!
The hurt!
The pain!

                            -- Nathan Wheelings


WHY?

 I remember when we first met: despite physical
apprehension, our spirits crossed the chasm, finding
one another. They knew destiny could not escape
something innately fashioned -- our unknown fate.
Like magnets drawn by a force of its own creation,
our lives were brought together with divine patience,
no haste, little waste, only the deliberate, contemplative
evolvement at our hearts' own pace.

Why?

 At times I wonder, especially when I hear thunder,
after lightning sears the sky, can love give birth to
something as powerful? Thoughts of divine marriages
filter through my mind like a kaleidoscope of history
and time. Brilliant images of prophets, kings, sages,
and their spouses, mates heavenly sent -- giving the
world examples for the ages. Yet we permit the
limitations of our minds to hinder love's desire to
create more of the same for mankind.

 Why?

 As fragile as crepe in a hurricane, the demand
of love can withstand the pain, the sorrow, the
void of a promise that tomorrow could predict. We
should let the spirits guide us: unrestricted, it
should not be denied.

Why?

 Should we deny ourselves something as holy
as the creator's very own existence? Isn't
it often said, "God is love?"

                         -- Jalil Muntaquim
SOMETIMES

 Sometimes I feel like a shoe--
You know, the kind you always wear,
the ones through rain, sleet, or snow
that hardly ever get no air,

 Placed on bright and early in the morning
but not talking of it till late at night--
You know, the shoes you wear to work,
the ones that aren't a gorgeous sight.

 You wore me down to the sole
like a soldier in the field,
and even showed me a few things--
You know, the things I can't reveal.

 It was cool in the beginning:
you only put your foot down once or twice,
But I think this might be it,
after what you pulled the other night.
At first I didn't know what to do,
But man, you just stepped in some shit,
and even though I feel like a shoe,
I think it's about time for me to split.

                 -- Nathan Wheelings
OPTICAL ILLUSIONS

 Being a black poet
is like going over
Niagara Falls in a
barrel

 An eight-year-old can do what
you do unaided
the barrel-maker doesn't
think you can cut it
The gawkers on the bridge
hope you fall on your
face

The tourist bus full of
paying customers
broke down
just out of the ghetto
Some would rather analyze post cards
than catch your art
A mile from the brink
it begins to storm
But what really hurts is that
you're bigger than the barrel.

                             -- Omega Poet
PRECIOUS DIAMOND

 A diamond in the rough
My, my what a life you go through
pressure, all they saw was your blackness
coal, you once were a symbol for life,
Heat, all they saw they didn't understand...
Until...
Yes, until they saw your worth,
your beauty.
My, my, you are so precious
they can't even cut you.
Even if they break you, your worth is still
priceless
If you let go your weak points.
Damn! You are precious!
It's not easy being a black man
But the heat and the pressure...
Made me stronger!

 Precious like a fire, burning strong and
deep, your love has conquered the
best of me.

 Exiled like the fire without air to breathe
our love ended so desperately.

 Precious as the air we breath, I'll keep
the pressure so strong and deep to keep
the fire burning between you and me.

                                              -- Edgar Velez
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