“Hard Living Easy Struggle”

“Hard Living Easy Struggle”
Today i realized that its hard to Live and so easy to struggle. Sometimes i cry from stress of struggle. Over time i felt a need for speed to live, but the hurt an pain of struggle showed me reality is real. Reality showed me there are two things guaranteed for us to bare, thats pain and suffering and life an death. You can never run from what is destined to be, So much Karma i pray God allow my soul to be at peace. We as people are dying to live. But we are so blinded by our souls that we are simply living to die. I was also taught that people were put in this world for one reason/(a purpose). But then at times that confuses me, I don’t know i guess this is who i was destined to be. Only God can show me who i am or who i am to be. Never be afraid to cry. Be afraid to cry inside. Showing a teaful smile filled with Disappointment of failures on the road of doing right. God knows i weigh sins of forgiveness, walked in so much darkness only you can be my witness. When we’re in the dark you see who’s really with you, but to blinded to see God is always with you. Honestly i hope my pain is felt, Cause each day gone is another day left. Soon it will be time to breathe, I just pray that the struggle allows me to be free. No one is perfect an never will be, Love an learn from mistakes an understanding experiences make you see who you are chosen to be. Love what you have an be grateful, for what you don’t. I thank God forgiving me wisdom, for waking me up everyday an for every meal, also for the understanding of struggle and the will to live.
By: Wayne Roberson (St8 Shot)
I also want to give a shout out to Willie (King Coe) Coe, he was lockdown for standing for our rights against the police. If you read this S.L.P for life My Brother

AmeriKKKa: Poetry from behind enemy lines

AmeriKKKa
By: Robert Jones
AKA Universal “Da Flauq”
The color of my skin won’t contradict this proclamation / Until our eyes visualize the end of segregation / America is bias and don’t seek justification / It makes you wonder who’s the head of the United Nation / And will they help us with the racist and discrimination / They’ll rather orchestrate the violence of the TV station / Wildfires, school shooting, police brutalization / What’s crazy they is not the only one, dating / Once we sit down start having subconscious meditation / You’ll believe in socialism just like that Queen Stacey Abrams / We need more people like her politics they should persuaded / They hate the revolution but the world it needs some changing / Kids think it’s cool selling drugs and walking round with banger / They Hood celebrities can’t say that’s not the same as famous / To live in peace what I’ve been waiting for no longer patients To see somebody hit that seat ain’t Klan or a Mason /

Changed by a mentor in prison

As Salaam Alaikum 
Couple of weeks ago I lost someone important to me, but not to death. Valdosta transfered my mentor, the person who changed me from the grimey and slimey ways I was living and turned my heart to being loyal and doing good deeds in the second chance I was given at living on compound again after the 18 months on tier 2 for another assault on inmate! The old me had no understanding and no sense in direction only destruction to the same ones I’m trying to educate and bad to this path I’ve been shown! Stressing my mama, turning my baby mama who I love unconditionally the other was forcing her to live her life without me causing me more pain and anger. Blaming the world when the only one to blame is me! 
My mentor told me take the pain and heart break like a man because you are the cause of your own down fall not the next man! He told me you are what you put out and you’re the only person who was to suffer physically but mentally the ones you love unconditionally suffer and that makes me selfish! Time in that room being chastised by my mentor every day brought me to my turning point. I relied on a being I never once in life thought about going to for anything, GOD! 
Now I’m a Muslim like you Aziz, the same trigga from B2 at Reidville who had no direction and angry mad because people avoided me! I’ve learned how to deal with my issues and defeat the evil whisper call Jinn I live by Surah 5:45 Now I’m trying to save my son and do good deeds along the way! I’m still an active Blood but I’m a Righteous Big homie! So if I can change my ways of thinking and living I know you can too. Cause your kids they do pay attention to your every move, so make sure they see you move the right way and live right 
Rasulullash 
By: JaCorie Hinton Brother Baqi the Everlasting One AKA Trigga 1000

“Why Doesn’t The Sun Shine On Me” collection by prison poet Exile

“Why Doesn’t The Sun Shine On Me”
By: Exile
It’s a lonely day and the sun isn’t shining on me as I sit behind these bars. No one seem to have compassion or humility toward the incarcerated. So many forget about me, leaving me in this darkness that consume my presence. It seem that prison is contagious because no one wants to assist a brother in need. It’s hard to feel warmth and sun rays from this cell I call my home. As an outcast my heart is crush by I refuse to lose hope. Because whatever is waiting on me just as the sun rises the next day. Faith is in my corner, truth is guarding its place. Hope has made me face each day. I know truly someone out there wishes for me to see the sun shine. But today isn’t that day, I won’t lose hope so as this falls upon your lap, give me some thought. This is just a reminder because we move so fast and miss so much. Yes, the sun isn’t shine on me but in the future, it will be.
“Can You Hear The Walls Cry”
By: Exile
Imagine you can feel the pain that comes from behind these walls. Silent are some if these walls could talk, emotions are stall. So intense is the distress that can be felt from the floors. Groans from the poor soul that has lost focus and control. Left to handle the stress which caress my heart at the door. And everyday the guards inflict more wounds to my core. Loss to this weary world, can you hear the cries from my walls. No one cares, I am a distant memory that all. So with poem I hope it open your eyes to let me in your arms.
“Truest Thought”
By: Exile
My truest thought was held inside of this cell, definition of pain written on my heart scroll, silent cries emerge from my tattered tortured soul, misery invaded and stole my loved residing place, it caused my entire to suffer and ache, loved ones abandoned me when I need them most. Envy could’ve been my company but pain was more close. Pain has truly given my life an overdose. No mercy dwells in trials and tribulations, constantly dealing with incarceration while time keeps me conseal in its shadows. Allowing me to appreciate life, love, and freedom to the fullest and also to see who really was sincere in my time of need, hated, despised neglected, mostly forgotten was things I received. With few choices and not many options, hurt encraved deep in the depths inside of me. A maze of misery with no map, guide, or light to remove this darkness I see. Long gone are the thoughts I cherish so much, in their absence is this cell which has bind so many of us. 
“In Life”
By: Exile
Some things in life can’t be tested by time 
Even inside of this cell I can speak my mind 
Because so few blossom like the fruit of earth
Yet behind these bars you fail to know your worth
So many left to rot on the vine. So many left to rot on the vine. 
But in their absence I call you mine. 
Yes the labor of the harvest outweighs worth, because I paid attention only to lust. 
You are reason I can awake and trust
Hot so your value, it exceeds degrees, even though you feel far away I feel your touch.
In this life I live I only have so much.
“Jungle”
By: Exile
This jungle that has me trap, with no way to escape.
I am force to suffer and humble my state. 
So many hard lesson that have confused my common senses.
I refuse to let these bars steal my confidence.
Beyond this cell I can be a person of interest.
Yet I let so many small things pull me in a ditch.
Every time I seem to gain some ground a distraction causes me to relent.
In this jungle call prison I have to be cautious or be forced to commit. All thru this jungle it seems I go thru stages like this. The only thing that will bring joy is being on the other side of the fence.

An Appeal by a Transgender Prisoner for Unity

Valdosta State Prison is fully out of control. On August the 8th 2018 an inmate killed another inmate. It has been a very hot summer here, so much violence, stabbings, so many deaths this year and the year is not over! The problem is people incarcerated are not understanding it’s time to set aside the hate, envy, beef with each other this is a time we as human beings need to come together no matter what gender! Unity is strength, unity is love, unity is hope, unity is completeness, unity is correction, unity we will stand, get answers. Without doubt in prayers this is from a heart that have been trouble so many years of incarceration. Divided we all continue to fall no matter what beef you have with another, come together is foremost going to get better results! Stop killing each other! And fight, confront reality and be a source of empowerment to each other! One another stand for what each them all tiny, small, or else it’s going only get worser! Divided we fall. Recognize or get recognized
Written by my pain and long struggles by chance tears reach its destination as I am fully transgender seeking hope, a new growth, I’ve been incarcerated 19 years totally this journey has been a war, still is a war.  Never accept defeat despite our incarceration or color. I’m talking all humankind in best regards. I am a beautiful person in caged within behind these walls. If there’s anyone that would like to write me please do. In all due respect I’m here I solely exist for the poor, blind, and the foremost anyone.. True.. 
In best regards,
Loyalty 
Never forget loyalty 
Never betray another..
Recognize 
or get recognized
If you would like to write to this person (or another writer published here), please use this website to contact Atl Black Cross.

Bound by Chains

Bound by chains, trapped inside this script called prison where the story never end. Where so many turn their backs on you and even forget the word friend. This is not hatred flowing through my pen, it’s truth that so many bend. Trying to rephrase words into what you want to stand. But hold on be easy I come in peace! I want you to comprehend. Don’t confuse my words because I am behind this fence. I’m loyal, dedicated, honest, and entitled to at least on matters that exist. Let me be the one to say I am ashame of my friends presence because of what most of them represent. Still bound by chains but respect goes to the stranger who listen to this.

By Exile

Imagine that you could conjure anything in your mind or cell. Would be a book, freedom, a woman, or money to help you stay in confine. With a book you only read it so many times. Freedom is priceless and precious but it starts in the mind. Money is a key factor however in prison, it’s a stressor that make you blind. How about a woman, a helpmate, someone you can relate to or express your mind. All of these sound good but one definite choice down the line. So as I close and bid you goodbye I’ll leave you this thought on why.

Charles Allen 1105887-D-1-231

Hays State Prison

Unity

Unity in these times is a necessity. Families are constantly being separated. And a fatal destruction awaits our communities without the efforts to unify. As we grow in institutions that contains disunified groups. But before I go any further you should have a clear understanding so I’ll specify. (The institutions are our communities and the disunified groups are our families.)
Now as we grow in institutions that contains disunified groups will allow some to stray and cause many to fend for their own. But if we build to change and develop unity our families it will lessen the high probability of the youth to fend for their own, which will give them a chance at avoiding being another statistic. I grow up in a very dysfunctional family most on drugs or caught up in the street life is what we call it. It consists of illegal doings and violence. Which is where I felt right at home not because of what I’m used to, but because there was no unity nor a sense of care amongst my family. So I strayed on a journey in search for something I knew existed but never had. Now I’m facing a life sentence plus five for the lack of knowledge and my curiosity for things that should have been provided to me during my childhood. But because of division I became a statistic. No education, and hardships through mass incarceration. Unity is important because it will bring the teachings, the love, care and etc. I see it as if we’re unified as a whole it itself will bring change upon the community (so let’s unify).

Man Child

By: Brotha Hest

Hearing gunshots ring outside my project window…
10 years old and wondering what did place me here for?
All I know is that I gots to protect my Mama and Sis…
But each time shotz rang out I duck down like a puss…

There has to be a way that those dealers and thugs can be beat!
I’ve got some ideas, though I ain’t sure how to take on this feat
So I continuously analyze this challenging situation beyond my door…
As the only male in my home I must secure them from my core!

Journeying out into the Hood I now despise, and at times fear…
This path is not clear, but of these other young boys I’ll be a peer…
We will combine our knowledge and figure out how to wipe Mama’s tear.
Even if it requires becoming the very same monster which scarred a childhood career.

That’s right my dear, we boys are so afraid that a mean man we appear…
For the fact of this matter is that we’ve yet to develop, can’t you hear..?
Listen closer to our cries, and see the many masks worn by us my dear…
It’s no wonder we gravitate from toy to gunz, projects to prisons without a jeer…

Yet, make no mistake, we still need help raising that boy still inside…
Regardless of how big and tough we look our actions prove the boy can hide…
Until it’s time for us to man up and fight our case or send gifts to Junior
Patience to learn the law and how to flip a store call had always been left over yonder…

So be understanding of the arrested development we can’t classify.
Because if we could this system would stop punishing and treat us, we ratify!
Forcing them to view and treat us as humans that has PTSD too…
Laying that next billion into the hands of changed convicts who know what to do!

… In love & service
Forever POPS Movement

Atlanta, Savannah drop banners in solidarity with Georgia State Prison strikers

Atlanta banner drop over Freedom Pkwy.

Prisoners in Georgia are on strike! When we heard that people in Georgia State Prison near Reidsville, GA were participating in the national prison strike, we wanted to show our solidarity.

Atlanta banner drop over Moreland Ave.

As we placed our banners, we heard many car horns honking in support. Awareness and support for the strike is spreading!

In 2010, prisoners all across the Georgia prison system coordinated an uprising which spanned many facilities and involved cooperation between prison organizations and between black, Latinx and white inmates. They brought the prison system to its knees. Now, inmates are Georgia State Prison are continuing this tradition of resistance in Georgia. We stand with them.

Atlanta banner drop over Moreland Ave.
signal-2018-09-08-235101
Banner hung in Savannah
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Banner dropped in Savannah over Victory Dr.

Prisoners: when you fight inside the walls, we will fight along with you on the outside!

The Evil of Georgia’s S.M.U. — expose by a prisoner

Isolated island like, sitting ominously on a little more than an acre of land and enclosed behind several barbed wire fences stands a torture chamber known as the Special Management Unit (S.M.U.)
This morbid looking structure is home to up to 192 souls who are alleged to have committed an assortment of prison infractions or who have simply been designated as individuals of notoriety by the Georgia Dept. of Corrections.
Admission into this draconian abode often comes absent of even the most basic fundamental due process of law protections as many inmates are essentially kidnapped and sent to the S.M.U. At the mere whim of prison wardens across the state.
To assign the word “appeal” to the process that inmates have at their disposal to challenge placement in the S.M.U. does the very word a grave injustice.
The so-called appeal is nothing but a thinly-veiled, empty and meaningless farce as field operations manager, Belinda Davis, responsible for the processing of these appeals rarely if ever bothers to answer or issue an inmate a response to their written appeals. Let alone conduct a legitimate review as to the validity of the reasons for an inmate’s internment.
Once encased inside this house of horrors a person can expect to languish inside it for four, five, even six years or more of practically 24-hour a day solitary confinement experiencing physical, mental and psychological torture in its purest form! 
While there are certainly aspects of the S.M.U. which inherent to its construction render it inhumane and cause its punishment design to be of a medieval type, the real malevolence of the S.M.U. is directly attributable to those who operate it on a day-to-day basis.
The S.M.U. administration is composed of three classic house negroes; Superintendent Michael Cannon, Deputy of Warden William Powell and unit manager George Ball. In concert with one another, this sadistic trio ensures that inmates under their supervision experience the absolute worse that humanity has to offer.
Inmates under their care are prohibited from enjoying any outside recreation time for an automatic three-month period of time when first admitted to the S.M.U. This despite the S.O.P. policy requiring every inmate receive a minimum of 5 hours out of cell rec. per week.
These three orchestrators of misery through their non-intervention and subtle direction allow a Gestapo like atmosphere to fester inside the S.M.U. in the form of numerous physical beatings suffered by inmates at the hands of prison staff.
Inmates housed in the S.M.U. are fed animal-like as meals are served in child-sized, thin styrofoam trays, where food items are often mixed together, cold to the point of congealment and severely under proportioned.
Even the very core of the Tier III Program in the S.M.U. which is based upon a gradual increase in relation to an inmate’s behavior and compliance to rules is subjugated by the administration as inmates who have earned certain privileges do not receive them.
The S.M.U. administration’s indifference to inmates’ health is manifest in delayed or blatantly substandard medical care.
The administration also places inmates safety in constant peril as they ignore the widespread practice of officers essentially abandoning dorms and falsifying cell check documentation. It is not uncommon for officers who have been assigned to work in dorms to disappear for two, three, sometimes four hours. When the officers do show up and make their rounds they routinely sign the “cell checklists” multiple times at once giving the impression that their required 30 minute cell checks were performed.
While there has been an onslaught of attention focused on the many deprivations of the S.M.U. by various media outlets lately, I wonder how much longer it will take before the brutality and inhumanity being inflicted upon myself and other inmates here comes to an end?
I wonder when the Georgia Dept. of Corrections hierarchy will have an epiphany and recognize that the S.M.U. is an innate object and that those who they have assigned to operated are responsible for its cruelty?
I do know that the arch enemy of evil is light. The light of exposure to its darkness!
Thus, I encourage anyone who believes that all human beings deserve humane treatment to utilize whatever resources at their disposal to expose the S.M.U. for what it truly is.
The Pen is My Sword