Poems

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!

Name has been changed by us for privacy.

Momma said it would be better days,

The sun would replace the shade,

And we would no longer be treated like slaves.

Momma told me one day it would be change,

Shoes would be worn by my friend,

Not tossed to hang.

Momma told me the pain would go away,

But since the loss of Tyrone,

The pain been here to stay.

Momma always told me I was her vision,

But now I’m in a cell,

All because I didn’t listen.

Momma told me family over everything,

But I listened to my friends,

And now my friends are missin.’

See I always knew to look both ways,

Before crossin’ the streets,

But I never knew I would lose Tyrone.

Momma never told me,

Now he’s gone,

Control, alt, delete.

The first picture looks as if someone has no freedom.
Also this picture reminds me of myself,
I feel like my freedom is being taken away.

To me the picture on the left reminds me about always leaving the unit with handcuffs
We can’t go nowhere without them on our wrists
But just know when we touch down
We don’t got to have them on anymore
~
To me the picture on the right reminds me of the streets
Because everywhere we turn our head
We see shoes hanging off the electrical cords

Years ago slavery started from people enslaving people.
Men like Willie Lynch made slavery into what used to be physical into mental.
The streets today doesn’t take people like Willie to make us slaves,
Because we are accustomed to think the ways of Willie are natural.
So we eventually go from the streets to slavery,
To being a victim of crime and slaughtered in time.

Keeping clean
Staying up
How
Gotta get it
How I’mma get it
No, no
Ay it ain’t no other way
Yeah it is but it slipped my mind
Consequences
Jail.

How you want it?
Tied up by hands and feet,
Or hanging from the power line?
Are your new expensive sneaks
Where you want it?
In an 8×10 cold, hard cell
Or in a box one story,
Above hell?
Either locked up or dead,
It’s your pick.
And even though it’s your shoes that’s hanging,
You can’t kick.
And even tho from your cell
You’re staring at da clock,
It won’t tick.
Because being tied up ain’t no joke,
So when ma dukes sees you shoes hanging,
Her heart’s broke.
And because being tied up it ain’t funny
Stop doing dumb stuff to get money.
So don’t allow them to send you tied up out east.
Or don’t allow your laces to be tied up,
And people saying R.I.P.

Bound, tied down, held against my will.
Trapped by my own words,
Bound by my own actions,
Tied for my own choice,
But I had the choice so was it against my will?
Was I forced here?
No.
I freely tie my own hands,
I freely gave another person the privilege to judge me,
So am I really trapped or freed when my choices changed.

The first picture reminds me of the predicament that I’m in
Locked down with nothing to think about but my life
It makes you think before you react
And this picture inspires me to never be in a position that this photo is expressing
And one way I could not be in this position anymore is by excluding the negative
And inhaling the positive
And also by leaning on the Lord’s side