Poems

Old ladies see me
and hold their purses tight
little kids see me
and take off running
police see me
and harass me quick
girlfriend calls my home
with a whole bunch of BS
judges see me
and shake their head
but God looks down
as I make my bed
but when I look in the mirror
I see exactly what everyone sees

I come from ah city of gorillas who don’t care,
no matter what you do
even take ah banana’s peel and they’ll take it there…
I’m from ah cold street, where dudes carry cold heat,
and their adrenaline is pumped from the way the X creep…
My city is like no other the gorillas is one thing
But them snakes are another
I’m from ah city where the wizards play and you’ll hear shots if you turn the wrong way
I’m from the murder capitol where everybody tryna eat
and I ain’t talking about no Big Apple either
So don’t think it’s sweet…

I come from a block where the wrong words get you popped
I come from a block where young boys eager to hold down the block with the forty-glock
I come from a block where your ma is on that rock
and where homies’ bodies drop like rain
Some people can’t feel my pain
Forced to be in the game
I come from a block where you feel like you won’t make it
But listen to this
Sit back
And let the Lord take it

What do you say about the Boy who grew up on kiss and hugs
But he grow up on luck and who gives a f***
But I say how can my mom be my enemy when she’s part of the inner me
She’s the one that held you for 9 months, but tortured you for so much more
When the only happiness you see is the door
The way out that’s like the power in arm reach, but can’t have
You can’t touch it, you can’t have it
What do you say to the Boy in hell when he feels the only way out is jail?
What do you tell the Boy who’s played with like a toy
Who fights for his life but his life is never right
What do you tell him when he lives the life of the struggle and lives in the shadow of his brother fighting off my enemies
But can I beat the inner me
What do you tell him

I come from…
The dirty south where how clean your shoes are is more important than how good your grades are
I’m from…
The Black flag hanging out your back pocket
Swear your life to your gang
MIA Florida, I come from the “how much drug you can sell?”
Stunt Hard South Side
I come from…
Where the more hearts you break the cooler you are
I come from hell

The dark ain’t where it’s at cuz I can’t even see
All this bulls*** over my eyes ain’t working for me,
It’s been dark all day and it ain’t even night
What you ain’t got no flashlight
You ain’t got no light…
I gotta get outa hell
Lights out on my dreams like I forgot to pay the bill.
I’m on an empty train
Just me and my hope.
I can’t win for losing trying to find ways to cope.
I’m on the last train, all the lighted ones left, and if I don’t jump off this train…
I’ma crash into death

I come from 53rd street
Where people’s hearts cold but tote heat
Where drug paraphernalia lay beside big wheels
Where feelings are depression, but everyone feels the way you feel.
Where young’uns getting that bay, but ain’t got a pot to piss in.
It’s far from the slums, but where you don’t want to live in.
I come from drug dealers
single parents
help from a grandmother
and ski-masks.
And where they banging for no reason, or just to make the weed last.
Where they say, “Who Dat” and “OK Yea”, when you see your man
Where he daps you up and change clips with the same hand
Where we get ready when somebody coming up the one, one…

it ain’t much but its where I come from.

I come from the Hood
Where all dumb s*** go on at
I come from the Hood
Where people do not make it out some time
but where you’re from is not a good place
Where you should come from is your mother
and not from a hood
I can say I come from a Hood
But if you know what I know
You come from your mother
So f*** the Hood s*** because….
I come out of my mother
So that is the Hood I’m from

Livin’ that fast life.
Always worrying about how to get the fast money
Fast jewels, clothes and cars
Like life is a playground and I’m just hangin’ on the monkey bars
Blinded by the famous people and how they livin’ their life
The streets will put together people with negativity
Like how they put lemon with lime to make sprite
The only difference is they give you the ingredients
on how to make sprite
but they don’t give you the ingredients
on how to really live the good life
We become thirsty for negativity like an alcoholic is thirsty for another bottle of the same ole s***
We focus on what we have now instead of what we need later and end up shredding somebody’s dreams like a cheese grater
Then when that point of time comes when you’re inside a hole or your back’s against the wall
When your knees get weak and you’re already at the bottom so there’s nowhere you can fall
You’re goin’ to think of the junkies you used to slang to, the monkeys you used to bang with
You goin’ to think about the days when your mother used to scream at you sayin the same ole s***
You goin’ to realize the same day service ain’t worth ending up miserable, so you might as well wait
At the end of the day, you are the only one who can determine your fate

Tryin’ to open my door from in my cell
No visits, no commissary in livin in hell.

While the walls are closing in on me
On lock in 17 cell tryin’ to see the TV.

The life I’m livin’ is the life I chose
Growing up where I’m from you got to keep your mouth closed.

I was born in the murder cap
Growin’ up robbin’ selling drugs and shootin’ caps.

Always on da block tryin not to miss a cell
Fears come in getting money in hell.

So what would you do
Bust that gun or let him run down on you

Where I’m from its kill or be killed
rolling of that blend, yeah that E-pill

Tryin’ to go to school and do the right thing
But seems to me things just won’t change

It’s no other feeling that compares,
To being able to triumph
To win, while you’re used to losing
To relax, when you’re used to doing.
Being able to stand up tall
When all life did was knock
Your legs down so you could fall.
I used to give up, tired of the fight
Knowing that when I deserve a
Chance, it was my right.
But no longer do I have to be out of breath
Today I poke out my chest and smile
Thinking of the journey of everlasting miles.
So I’m ready life, come get some
Because whatever the task, I’ll overcome.

This week, we tried something new in Book Club- we used a work of visual art as a writing prompt! Our friend Ellen Stedtefeld used to teach art in the school at the under-18 unit at DC Jail, and she produced a series of works based off of that experience.

We printed out two of her poignant images (show here), and brought them in. The Free Minds members got to work immediately, and produced some powerful writing.

Do you have any ideas for prompts? Submit them to us via comment!

As always, thank you for your support!