Twenty men at RLWCC participated in a two-day storytelling/creative writing intensive in 2016. The prison would not allow us to publish their names
They Say you Can’t
They say you can’t be who you really are.
You have to leave that at the door.
They want you to act and be someone you’re not.
If your true self comes out, they punish you
And sanction the shit out of you
To the point you end up changing some of who you are.
Changing to this new person.
The person you thought you weren’t.
Which is really who you were the whole time.
They say you can’t be who you really are.
They say you can’t, but you always could.
I Am
I am intellectual.
I am loyal.
I carry the burden of a people
Robbed of it’s culture, language, God.
I Carry
I carry the weight of souls gone by.
Truly heavy.
The images of a beaten slave asking God,
Why?
The sight of a railroad track
Deep in the country of Alabama.
I carry the weight of souls gone by.
The Outlaw Life
They say that nothing good can come from the outlaw life.
Well, I don’t believe that at all.
I feel that I have learned more about life, other people,
And about myself as well
Than going to public schools.
I don’t believe I can be sucker punched by life or anyone.
I have learned to survive and adapt.
I believe the only limitations I have are the ones I set myself.
And in that case…the sky’s the limit.
This prison time is just a step back
To overview the next move to remain on top.
The Best Part
The best part ins’t getting out after years and years of being locked up, my family waiting with new clothes that don’t fit.
Or the smiles on everyone’s face as they wait outside the gate.
Nor is items grandson’s excitement knowing his next fishing trip
Is right around the corner.
The best part was the flashing lights
The click of the cuffs
The stench of vomit by the shitter in the holding cell
The sound of the door slamming shut
The realization that it’s finally over.
The best part is when I seen the light
The slamming of the gavel
The reading of the verdict: Guilty as charged.
Twenty years in the Department of Corrections,
BAM BAM BAM
The shuffle of my feet in chains
As I am returned to my cell.
The First Time
The rain on the windshield
Made the brake lights look
Like stars
the wipers were not keeping
Perfect rhythm with the song
On the radio
They were moving too slow
As the rain was actually
A heavy drizzle
I noticed the motor cycle
Laying on its side
A man waving us by
I notice the body laying
In the rain
Not moving
Arms and legs
In unnatural positions
The blood everywhere
Pooled beneath his head
No helmet in sight
I realize it’s a body
Void of life
It’s the first time I’ve seen
A person lose his life
I wish I was back in that hospital room
Holding my little girl
After her mother gave her life
Or with my grandson
When he graduated kindergarten
Wearing his Superman t-shirt.
What I Remember Most
I left out early to go hunting. We had no food in the house. We ate last the day before. My fingers were numb. I was about to give up and go home, but I couldn’t. I had to feed my brothers and sisters. A buck stepped out in the corner of a field. Alone. 150 yards away. I had to make this count. I took aim and squeezed the trigger. The buck disappeared. I was disappointed but I had to be sure. I walked out to where the deer stood and found him. My aim was true. After dressing the deer I dragged it back home. My brothers and sisters came out to help me hang and skin it. They all gave me a hug and said thank you for being a good brother. And what I remember most is the look on their faces
as they ran out of the house.