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From time to time I like to rewind my mind to try and find that spot, the very instant, that I chose to speed through life so blind lost loves, trashed cars, and all of those slapped faces. Make it easy for me to remember the times and places of my disgraces.

 

I’ve fought hard and bounced, only to watch the reins go slack. Here I go again, I can’t win, the wrong way down a one way track. There’s nothing here for me, surrounded by the castoffs of society. Dressing the same seems to me to be a conspiracy, to rob me of my identity every sentence, every story, starts with the usual I, me, or my brains are fermenting, as the rut get deeper, but no one knows why minds need to focus, forget the day after day, and let the soul slip away. Get my sights on what’s right, where I need to be, what I’ve got to say. Life is too short to be wasting it away, wallowing in the stench of a prison cell.

 

I can write here for years, but not one of my words am I allowed to ever sell. Once you’re in it’s hard to win, the system kicks you harder where you’re already down. You’re picked up, only to be degraded and demeaned, then knocked again to the ground. A thief I’m not, but everyone keeps talking about this elusive box of tools. Sounds cool collecting tools, in a class each day, I guess they give them away. So here I am, studying day by day, hoping to find a somewhat saner way of living with the people of earth, as people that I know, not as friend of foe. Just as other human beings with inquiring mind, that need to live and grow.

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Beer after beer after shot, my bar tab grows I was there when they opened, I’ll be there when they close what you ask, is a nice Irish lad like me doing wallowing alone, in so much misery it seems the Gods have dealt me, A big hand of shit I can’t make sense of it, and the pieces won’t fit my woman has left me, so I’ve nobody at home both my mind and my eyes, are now free to roam I like to see tits, hanging from shirts and tight little asses, only half covered by skirts these simple things, and a drink or a few cheer me up when I’m feeling, depressed and blue I was in the bathroom, simply taking pics a young woman comes in, and says you want some of this not for a second, I didn’t even have to think I fucked her right there, as she bent over the sink three drinks of Bacardi, were my hydraulic lunch I’m fuckin’ wasted, now it’s more than a hunch I sat down to rest in a booth, then I put my head on the table the bartender hollered, Hey buddy walk if you’re able I toss my beer to the floor, as I head for the door I stumble then mumble, your mothers a whore the night air feels good, and soon I’m awake but how much of this crap, does one man hafta take a friend of mine pulls up, and yells from his car why the hell are you walking, let’s go hit a bar we find one at last, a place to shoot pool but I’m so fucked up, I can’t sit on a stool my friend hears of a party, a better place to be so we stock up on beer, and head out to the country we arrive at a camp, with a big bonfire blazing twenty people or so, sit on lawn chairs lazing I find a comfortable chair, this is partying in style a few pills are passed to me, which I pop with a smile beer after beer, I’m enjoying it here though after awhile, all sights disappear I’m awake before sunup, all covered in soot somehow it seems, I’ve burnt the boot off my foot there’s nobody in sight, but I hear music in the camp I take off my trashed footwear, and head up the ramp there are people in here, that I met last night they’re laughing at me, saying I look a fright I ask if they’d know, where my friend may gone they say he’s passed out in his puke, out on the front lawn I down three shots of jack, and grab him a beer I kick him and yell, let’s get the fuck out of here so with puke in his hair and a beer in his hand he laughs when he realizes, he’s not able to stand I go find the cooler, then drop down beside him I’m just guessing here, but I’d say our future looks grim I explain that we both, need to get back to town he looks at me seriously, with a really deep grin he says there’s no way, he can possibly drive I say no shit, but I’m barely alive We agree to sit there, until there’s nothing to drink it doesn’t really matter, we’re too fucked up to think many cans later, the beer finally gone there’s a big ring of empties, all over the lawn I ask him how, he can get me stranded like this he says aw fuck you, I’m gonna lay here and piss the lawn gnomes have hidden, and so too have crows it seems everyone hides, from us drunken hobo’s

Electronic ghosts are infesting this world and removing all sound of momentum as we stare blindly through them, movement, once equaled noise. To hear a clock ticking on the wall one could witness it’s second hand lurching forward and a rhythmic connection was made. As hearing the clack, clack, clack of an old royal typewriter, the letter blocks would be smashing into the rollers padded surface. There are no jumping hands or swinging arms now. The cyber ghosts have take them away. Replacing them with flashing, blinking, glowing digital and the steady hum of word processors. Silenced circuitry, these two examples were merely the beginning. Gone too is the mail – slot door rattling as the daily dose of junk – mail hits the front hall floor. The clanking brass door has been replaced by a beep and a flash from the computer. A note flashing, “You have mail.” even the junk – mail is gone. Now it is “SPAM!” A poMedialite word for “CRAP” Whirrs and Beeps. Our mechanical reality is being replaced with things that make only white – noise. I do not fear this change, in this new age change is probably a good thing. Though my attitude would surely change if I were forced to befriend a cat that had only an electronic purr.

Devious dotted dirt… stand out inside court soaked & wet straight blue grass… barred widows of plexiglass for runner front & back, simplistic conflicted stack hunkered down on what is not, timeless possessions grip the plot. “ Ohhh here comes the usual pain!!! Ohhh here comes the rain!!”

Side steep into black, shadows linger and falter flat strut forth in contend this lieing, mmisleading peace of shit! A hand up is another hand down, stitched on smiles hide the frown strings cut leave a limp limb, focus on nothing so the nothing wins “Ohhh here comes the usual pain!!! Ohhh here comes the rain!!!”

And so I sit and rehash, what of mine is good and what of mine is bad I single out my indifference with knowledge I’ve conceived so with these new eyes of mine I see the better half of me!!!

Wind stroke and double stamped, fingers bloody bruised & cramped still pressure pushes this pen to wright, a flood of emotions fills these nights a sore score and a few more torn, default conditions and new ones are born a tinge of regret trickles in, but I’m no stronger to this as I bathe in sin.

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Political Prisoners

Welcome to the blog from inmates of Maine's jails and prisons.

In collaboration with the Holistic Recovery Project, the Political Prisoners Blog provides a prisoner's view into what's happening at Maine's correctional facilities.

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