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.
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
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
Title: Sad But True
Author: Lamar Westside Gates
The word help never be heard, but fuck you get an answer
Talkin with sense, they turn their nose like you’re a dirty pamper.
But I’m the crazy one if you let them tell it, Respect goes a long way but not in this pace!
If you not part of the elite, you get beat to sleep.
Most e-mails dont go out cause they dont want the heat.
Inmates wanting to be officers dying to speak, Sir I’ll pack his Property and destroy his good.
Most in the step-down lost and can’t be found, what I mean bout that, inmates will lock you down.
For a detail and packout sir I’ll tell it all, to show you I’m not playing #— got a phone.
Now you see what I’m talking bout fuck the step-down,
For four hours and T.V.s these killers become police.
But I’m the crazy one cause I wanna be free!
I’ll die before I fold, starve before I break,
Never will I help the Pigs OPPRESS Inmates.
By: Lamar Westside Gates
Rosa Parks a part of me, I refuse to move my feet
No, I’m not Dr. King, but I got a lotta dreams
Trying to be astronaut, outer here, yes indeed!
Speaking like Malcolm got me X out, watch me bleed,
No Johnnie Cochran in my life so I’m doing life.
My Madame C. J. Walker tryin to get my head right,
But I need dat Bob Marley just to get my head right.
What happened to date Condaleeza Rice’s who can make it right?
American soldiers dying fighting da wrong fight
Dat ‘N’ Word got so much Power messing up life
We use it all day, but others do, it ain’t right!
I’m in a race running to make things right
Too many voices in silence dying to talk,
You wishing for a Coretta but will you treat her right
Who are you to tell me that I can’t date white?
Don’t try to block da love I have to give, it don’t matter yo color, love is real.
We put our faith and values in da wrong things, it’s no secret the police been killing brothers, black on black crime, it’s da same, killing brothers.
When we all gon come together as one? Why we only come together for football and basketball games? How come it takes pain and tragedy to make us same? If we all get on the same page, things will change.
I want to tell you dis, dis my response to all dat’s going on.
We need more Jackie Robinsons of every race to break the barrier.
What Trump been doing planed facts, if he don’t play by dey rules, he become da X man assassinated like da rest Man…
Title: Facts, part 2
By: Lamar Westside Gates
Suicide thoughts be on my mind, but da love I got for Grandma keeps me alive,
all dis time on my back got me working out. Every case I’mma read to find a way out
Pill call no help cause da pain don’t sleep, got no time to rest so I get no sleep.
Every time I close my eyes I be back on my feet, tray call, shower call, I be missing da streets.
And da numbers I be calling be a game of chess, sometimes I get an answer cause it kills da stress.
But da staff breath hate dey words be fake, put on for da camera just so dey can get paid, but you wrong if you don’t take missing portions from a styrofoam tray, come round for inspection, dey don’t hear shit day you say!
Put in a sick call, don’t get seen but dey get Paid, call dey name and write it up, dey gone drop yo Phase, tell you what you wanna hear, then be on dey way. ACT OUT, GET SPRAYED sometimes be da only way cause dey don’t give a Phuck bout what you say!
Talking civilized and v with respect gets you azz to kiss, belligerency and warring bring accomplishments.
Inmate why you acting childish and untamed?
“Because my needs are ignored, an undomesticated treatment! Should I go on because there is more.”
Really it’s no need cause you don’t care!
Just want me to be a bobblehead and say, ‘Yes master I understanding,’ with dat ‘you be a good boy’ grin on yo face, while you walk off with yo klan co-workers saying, ‘See, dey all the same’ (facts).
Well I got news for ya, keep playing and don’t RECTIFY MY CIRCUMSTANCE, REBELLIOUS I’LL BE UNTIL YOU KILL ME FACTS! AND I KNOW YOU DON’T CARE TRUE COLD HEARTED FACTS…