A Particular Sense of Peace
A particular sense of peace sits softly and silently inside.
A piece (Peace) of you.
A part of me.
The walls we build around ourselves keep us locked inside
the Prisons we build,
And the Prisons we build become a reality as we lock up
the non-violent, innocent women who have no home.
And the children are motherless
and cry out at night, as their mothers have no escape
from behind these bars.
And the mothers are torn inside as their children’s’ tears
rip them apart like the wild chaos of the tornado which
tears through the Ranges they live in.
In the evenings as the family sits together beside the fire,
counting the dancing embers,
And the lovers, as they hold hands, gaze tenderly at the dark
night sky, counting the lumid stars as they appear one by one.
This evening hundreds of thousands of inmates wait silently,
As the guard walks the endless isles cube, after, cube after cube,
counting the numbers,
Counting the Prisoners
Counting the inmates
Counting the women
Counting the mothers
Counting the non-violent ones.
And the women are tucked in tight
backs against the wall,
head to head they lay
And one head high as she looks across the sea of bodies,
Silently in the night,
The Lord makes sure we are all right.
And the tears are brushed aside,
As in here, there’s no where to hide.
Tiptoe around the secret/silent unspoken rules,
Only to disobey again.
And they make it hard to be a good girl,
In this Prison Camp.
My “mom’s” in cube 32, and my sister in 11.
Someone burst out laughing in cube 51.
And the girl on the top bunk in cube 35 is dancing on her bed
As the others cheer her on,
They’ve got their own comedy routine and show.
And over here someone’s crying in the corner because her appeal
Or the phone call didn’t last,
And the 15 minutes/not of fame, but famously cold, and insane,
And ending flat note,
No non-sense does this phone call make.
And she can’t call back again, her minutes are all used up.
And she remembers again where she is,
Prison talk takes her hand and seduces her once more.
And she’s here again.
In shame again.
Reminded she’s contained again.
Enjoy your decadent food,
your Bristol Farms and Whole Foods,
your liquor stores, your black graffiti,
your guns, your drugs,
your fashion Uggs.
But don’t come cryin to me no more.
All minds and all social class living under one roof here.
No sense of rhyme can you make of this rabbit hole game.
And another one’s time is almost up again,
32 days and a wake up.
Getting short and shitty they say.
A little tense you’re leaving this Prison home/hole/?
How to go from 9 x 12 to a 4 bedroom home/
Or is there no where to go? No garden to grow, no children to sow?
Afraid of coming back in?
Every one woman who leaves I hear say “I’m not comin back in.”
Not me. No way.”
Familiar faces come back all the time.
And my heart skips a beat as I see my face in theirs.
And another one comes in.
40 trailing behind.
Hope there’s no DC ones in this bunch—
Misdemeanors no crime.
But the thumbsuckers got to go, and have got no control,
As they run down the isle of these cube homes
Looking for a friend to rub on.
Beds in the hall.
Beds in the T.V. rooms.
Beds in the entrance way.
Beds coming out of my ears, I say.
Take me out of this madness game.
Con men live beside my room.
Borrow back. Watch your back
Niceness breeds insanity,
And big ones take advantage of the innocent ones as they
slip on their lies.
And someone is in the dryer 13,
But she’s on the phone, finally connecting the call/
Pick up girl, answer the damn phone.
Again my hand shakes as the recording disconnects my just connect,
And I feel so alone.
Get your own dryer.
I aint your maid.
And I wasn’t raised for this, in my childhood castle in the sky.
Forget this chaotic game I say.
Take me home, back home to my icecream life,
And diamond shoe strife.
Tell me where you were born, because I am so lost I don’t think
i’ll ever get home.
We’re you from?
How much time did you get?
Was it money or drugs?
Oh God, I’m fixin to git out of this place,
As my dialect goes a wonderin
And my hand hurts from this manic writin
My heart’s a bleedin for the lonely children as the mother
Sittin on my bed is locked up for another 10 year.
Lord take me out of this madness game.
Salvation is near
As I rest my hand illegally on
Her soft shoulder, and wish
she would come closer.
Know this world is cold.
I will protect you.
Big brown/little girl. Go home to your little boy.
Cry with me now.