Under Lock & Key

The silhouette of his shadow which is cast upon the dirty concrete floor has finally become his only true trusted yard companion yet even then his cautionary ways still cause him to entertain a certain shadow of a doubt. Wondering if he can afford to exhale with a strong sense of content.

Is it safe to simply assume that it’s a solidified fact that his shadow will always have his back? Or is that simply psychological lore?

If solitary forms of confinement nothing more than a plotted plan to lure, bait and seek out the weak.

If the only true permanent fact found in the parable of “anything behind the back will eventually try to attack.”

If that should be the case, then how does one strategically wage an effective battle against his own damn shadow?

Is this a simple reflection of a parable and rhyme of a true reclusive mind or is it actually a classic example of a chicken shit battle of a man scared of his own damn shadow?

Although I believe this poem is somewhat entertaining, I simply used it as a vehicle to express something much deeper. That would be the psychological toll that it takes on one’s mind when they are subjected to years of solitary confinement. Especially after being entwined one way or another in continuous acts of bloody violence all in the spirit of survival.

Sometimes trying to preserve one’s way of life. Other times defending one’s belief system. Or simply trying to stay alive to push forward and fight another day.

Adding to the mix and price of the psychological toll is the back stabbing acts of betrayal by those you once cared for, trusted, and in many ways still love. Amongst many other psychological issues it becomes extremely hard to know who and when to trust as your actual life and freedom can depend on it.

The stakes are high and the toll is heavy, so paranoia can and does run deep and rapid.

I was born with a voice, but couldn’t form words to speak
’ When I learned to speak, it was mainly ignorance of things portrayed to me in the media
I’ve always been interested in politiks, but had limited knowledge.

If you woulda told me prisoner were operated at a loss, I woulda told you you were crazy, no one would do that.

I learned how to read, but read nothing with real knowledge
I learned science, but only about volcanoes
I learned history, from edited text books

Now I wake up every day, behind a lock
My days are filled with evolution

I’m learning how to read books with knowledge
I’m learning science about social reality
I’m learning history that’s not been edited

I was born with a voice, now I’m learning how to speak
Now I’m Under Lock & Key

Sleepwalking to the sound
Of captains and ships
Molten hot chains
Bond to the ignorant and lost
Each metallic clang! Each step
Down towards the cliff
Of oppression…
Where freedom has been willingly
Relinquished
To their masters
Happily at the will of their own
That taketh away

Revolution and freedom
Reigns in my bones
To break the chains
Off of my brothers and sisters
Shedding the light towards
The happily oppressed
For they have forgotten
The legends and stories
Of their ancestors;
Sweat and blood on their brows

I’d rather die for the people
Than bow to the enemy
I will never be a cog
In this so-called penitentiary
United in the struggle
With my comrades i will stand
Equality reigns supreme
For every single human
We fight to end oppression
We’ll educate to overthrow
If we unite and organize
They will never stop the flow
So if i’m speaking revolution
You need to open up your mind
Listen to the truth i’m spitting
Pay attention then you’ll find
We’re giving power to the people
Red banners flying high
Revolutionary fists
Raised proudly to the sky!

Fire is this time in solitary.
Outside my window – darkness.
Gaining strength at a fiery pace,
this knowledge I must harness.

Fire is this time in solitary,
burning me like a thousand suns.
But the swords are forged in the hottest fires,
so I sharpen my faith so it’s compared to none.

Outside my window – darkness;
freedom can seem afar.
But we must always remember,
it takes a certain darkness to see the stars.

America, you exposed the line
Back in my younger days your judges had their axes to grind
You promised us that justice was really blind
But that is not what we would find
You just saw me as someone who was born to do time
Yeah, I’m from Florida, the sunshine state,
But you’ve sent me to prisons more times than I’ve made it across the sunshine gate
Unless i’m riding on the prison bus
Your green dollars all say “in God we trust”
But to you I’m worth about a hundred grand a year
And all the people that I know have all passed through here
It’s just how you keep the spirit cause it’s so strong-willed
So I turn on my TV and stare at the screen
and it’s a habitual liar named Trump
And he has big plans to buy a wall
But unfortunately that’s not all
He also wants to split the families apart
And stop the Black & Brown people from a better life and a fresh start
So I guess that the rumor is true
That the Black & Brown are not red, white or blue
But I guess that’s just america’s plan
The rise of the Ku Klux Klan
That’s spread all the way from the back woods
And the secret meetings wearing white hoods
And elevating them to become the police
Then the local judge, and even the mayor of the big city
And then a department of corrections union member
Funneling a percentage of their pay
To keep the disadvantaged people locked up all day
By paying politicians and telling them what to say
Like “we’re tough on crime”
And then they pass a thousand laws at a time
And have no respect for our civil rights
So we are doing lifetimes of wasted days and wasted nights
But now I can clearly see through your soulless eyes
And your great american white lies
But I vow to stop you from suppressing my kind
Because yes america, you exposed the line.

I’ve been trapped inside this building, I’ve been in since I was little
It’s a riddle, but the foundation to it is turning brittle
When you’re walking up the stairs, down the hallway, look to the middle
On the left, you’ll see my doorway is leaning and full of splinters
From taking it off the hinges, Memories back to prison
A victim to those that sentenced, their sinister ways of lynching
Distorted image, through torn prisms, praying the governments lifting
And shifting, its hand from the neck of the oppressed, to relieve some of this tension.