Towers with Howitzers
Walls that touch the sky
Razor sharp fencing wired for sensing
Doubt them and die
Loudspeakers cameras that zoom
Microphones in every room
X-ray machines and monitor screens
An Orwellian dream
Hands bound legs in chains
No talking keep walking
Welcome to insane
A toothbrush a comb a razor for shaving
Names become numbers the denims on loan
Photos and prints records for saving
Everything issued nothing owned
Cubicles of concrete and steel compact and surreal
Sixteen bars and a slot for meals
A light so bright never dim
The unyielding ingredients of grim
Ladles of food without taste but none to waste
No morsel debris
In the hollow of night cold beans become caviar
The watery Kool-Aid a fine Chablis
Lift ’em spread ’em hands on the wall
Rubber gloved searches for contraband small
No cavity overlooked not even a nose
Bend over for the finger no indignity spared
The slow procession of years a never ending rain
Friends disappear
A loved one dies no goodbyes
Nothing to cauterize the pain
Old photos yellowed from time
Memories of days gone by
Fan before them on the floor and quietly adore
Before
Make friends with the mice on the boat
The cockroaches out for a stroll
Talk to them . . . tether them
Offer them a roll
2
Large keys for small spaces
A thousand ugly faces
The burglar lives with the bigamist
The smuggler of toke next to
The dealer of coke
The hijacker from the Middle East with
The pedophile priest
The junkie with the judge
A Skid Row slasher with
The thief of gold bas
The bad check cashier with
The bomber of cars
The congressman on the take
Just above
The robber and rake
One sentenced to a year
One to life
One lives in fear
The other carries a knife
Some have muscled limbs under a sea of ink
Even with a gang stag ready for bang
Just waiting for rivals to blink
Some curl up in a ball fix their weary eyes on the wall
Just lay there and rot
Some read day and night lose themselves in a plot
No worries at all
Some the harmers of women and children are hated
Fated to telling only lies
Must risk their deeds with artful disguise
Some brandish repertories of romanticisms like a gun
Savage the lonely of heart just for fun
Some are ever engaged in discoveries of delusion
After the parole a collusion
Some have never shared a thought no friendship sought
No time for such intrusions
Some will file away at the bars change a sheet for a rope
Will risk it all with little hope
3
Some when finally sanity deserts will connect
Their neck to the ceiling or knotted sheet
And some they’ll just surveil in silence then quietly
Steal the shoes off their feet
Sometimes in the night bolt upright
On sweat soaked sheets
Look around and curse the interruption
Better the violence in the streets
The wielder of pistols and knives
The men of many wives
The safe cracker and the computer hacker
The hijacker of planes deranged
The forger of bills
The merchant of pills for the seeker of thrills
The starter of fires and killers for hire
Spreaders of fear
The thieves of the body most private and dear
They’re all here
The still young and bold
The now wrinkled and old