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Monday, December 26, 2011

Poetry by Roderick O. Williams

Vote 4 Democrats 2020
By Roderick O Williams

Verse #1
Elected a President that’s clearly unstable
To me it’s evident that they’re clearly unable
To protect our democracy, all they want is a monopoly
Too busy running the tables, to run the government properly
They want to fix the economy, to benefit the wealthy
And take away your healthcare, so start eating healthy
Giving welfare to the rich, but not a mother with kids
Seems like every brother that goes to court
They’re screaming off with his head
Was Jeff Sessions a racist, or was he off of his meds
Already a sea of black faces, stuck off in the feds
What about that clown the Donald, took on the Pope, man-o-man
Didn’t want blacks in his condos, and all the women he fondled
Got to vote him out pronto, him and that witch Mitch McConnell
If we stop electing racists, we’d be doing phenomenal
Who can you trust now, you see they’re corrupt now
And starting to go nuts now, with these government shutdowns
Not to cause confusion, but there was evidence of collusion
Trump called for that hack,   that’s an overt act
Giving secrets to Kislyiak, a Russian Spy Recruiter
Telling Russians to hack Hillary Clinton’s computer
Pulled out the Paris Accord, embarrassing, we just can’t afford
To watch another old man crash, like Harrison Ford

Verse #2
With the prospect of minorities
Becoming the majority, flexing more authority
Became the priority, police got sadistic
More militaristic, a black teen dies horrific
Just another statistic, a Mexican mother gets deported
Left a son and a daughter behind
It ain’t quite torture, I’d say it’s about borderline
Deporting men and women, putting black people in prison
To me, that’s a war-crime, definition of ethnic cleansing
It’s never been mentioned, and I pay attention to TV
Hillary Clinton would have been President
If she chose Sanders as VP
Who ran her campaign, they need you and they need me
A new breed of candidate, because the last one handed it
To a super callous, fascist racist
Taking us back to the dark ages
Policies that fool’s pursuing, has racial hatred up and brewing
It’s idiotic, so chaotic, dangerous and unpatriotic
They’re hoping to keep us all divided
But blacks and whites we’re both united
To take back America, from racial hysteria
Hatred and Bigotry ain’t in our character
Call it evolution or a political solution
Call it the resistance or non-violent revolution
Propose legislation to end mass incarceration
Win the House and the Senate
For Slave descendants reparations
(Vote Democratic, next time it won’t be so tragic,
For race relations, put an end to mass incarceration


Political Propaganda
By Roderick O Williams

Verse #1
I high jacked the nation with political ideology
Reverse psychology without apology
Betrayed the American people
Deceived other nations. Possessed by pure evil
Air-strikes so lethal, I define what’s legal
There’s no rule of law, you didn’t see what you saw
I call it shock and awe, another Governments upheaval
Then I swoop in like an Eagle and save the day
Now I’m a super-hero, I could have just did a “D-Bo,”
But I’m too sophisticated, watch how I articulate it like its
Something to be celebrated, Hip Hip Hooray
Now look up in the sky, it’s a bird, it’s a plane
While I’m right under your nose, with my hoes and gold chains
F-16s make it rain flames, murder and maim,
Young children get slain, left orphaned in pain
I got my hand in everything, but I shift the blame
I’m the best that ever did it; I got the gift of game
I torture the competition, American prisoners
Got no mention, while Guantanamo Bay Detainees
Got all the attention, Federal mandatory minimums
And Assistant US Attorneys treated Americans so Dirty
I got political prisoners currently suffering
For eternity, in solitary confinement
You’ll wonder where the time went
Be careful how your time’s spent
Or you’ll wonder where your mind went
Searching around your prison cell screaming “Why Can’t I find it”
While they deteriorate mentally I pray upon their family
I don‘t give a damn if he’s pushed past insanity
I’m always right like Shawn Hannity
I’ll put a bounty on your head
An entire county on your head
Until you unravel, a judge’s gavel
Will be pounding on your head
I’m the world dominator, to me, all of ya’ll scared
I’m the human rights protector
I got the whole world misled


Modern Day Slavery
By Roderick O. Williams

These people are still racist, prisons packed like slave ships,
bring visions back of times, when they whipped our backs for crimes
and you don’t know what it’s like; you’ve never been a slave,
It’s not embedded in your psyche, or written on your grave,
or upon your tombstone, we feel it in our bones,
when we’re locked in chains, flowing through our veins,
is blood cells, with cell memories from past lives,
my people are still searching for freedom,
that’s why we are living these fast lives,
trying to run away from slavery, here in this modern day,
people getting locked up for nothing,
we’re still trying to get away.
How can I make you understand this, if I barely do?
they just label us criminals, but that’s rarely true,
we don’t have to necessarily do, a crime to wind up in prison,
be convicted, and it be sustained,
spend the rest of our lives in chains, but ya’ll ain’t listening….


Black in America
By Roderick O. Williams

I’m black in America; the odds are against me,
but I survived, even thrived, amongst people who used to lynch me,
thought I was living the dream, until the feds pinched me,
and put me behind bars, in a federal penitentiary,
sentenced me, to a quarter century, now when people mention me,
It’s past tense, like I’m ancient history,
they’re trying to get rid of me, and others of my pedigree,
the feds target us frequently, and charge us with Conspiracy,
but they’re hypocritical, and it’s all political,
got to give them credit though, this isn’t hypothetical,
the North won the Civil War; the South never let it go,
Now the House and the Senate, Captains and lieutenants,
prosecutors and judges, they’re giving winks, nods, and nudges,
they’re still holding grudges; we think it’s copacetic though,
take one or two of us, put us on a pedestal,
while thousands disappear, hunted down, captured,
friends and family left behind, like it’s the end of times rapture….


Generational Damage
By Roderick O. Williams

They lock us away, give us a date,
So far in the future, it perpetuates,
Generations of poverty, it also creates,
Dysfunctional families and children
that hate, the father’s not home,
He’s gone ‘til they’re grown,
They got to be strong, all on their own,
Sent us to Prison, left them alone,
Then wonder why, their heart’s made of stone


Color-Blind
By Roderick O. Williams

Like the parents of a slave child, sold to a different master,
We're torn from our families, resulting in disaster,
Yeah, we're having kids out of wed-lock,
But, how many fathers do the feds got,
Knowing the father’s the bedrock, of the family.
And the family is the bedrock, of society.
Put a suspect in a headlock, now he’s in shellshock,
Tell him he’s got to betray his people are wind up in a cell block
Cocaine residue and a joint of marajuana
Gave me more prison time, than the Dirty Bomber
And John Walker Lindh, I got more time than him,
Wasn’t he fighting for the Taliban, training in Afghanistan?
I'm African American, my girlfriend looks like Jennifer Aniston
I know it’s no coincidence; we get long prison sentences,
For crimes that ain’t crimes, the judge ain’t color blind,

He gave me 20 years, for drugs that ain’t mines….



21st Century Injustice in the USA
By Roderick Ondra Williams

We’re brought in front of a judge, just like a human sacrifice, they give us so much prison time, you can do some in the after life, your guilt or your innocence, don’t really matter half the time, release you when you past your prime, another black mastermind, threw off in the trash heap, now that’s deep, my 3 year old’s scared of police, he can’t sleep, incarcerated ourselves into a recession, if you ask me, locking up resources, isn’t good for the economy, white women are very fond of me, so I am a danger to the community. Might as well put a sign on me, saying arrest me with impunity, robbed of opportunity, lot’s of prison time, they ruined me, constantly pursuing me, for things as small as blowing weed, if I’m in a prison cell, you know I’m not going to breed, keep us all from sewing seeds, the devil man, he sure deceives, racism is a cold disease, like dictators from overseas, the fix is in election day, only thing I know relates, is the federal courts, conviction rate, percentage rate, near ninety-eight, who can afford that risk to take, exercise your right to trial and get hit with a science-fiction date. Innocent people capitulate, under the weight of the united states, my Nike’s laced, I’m fighting my case, no matter how much time it takes, had my mama, crying lakes, I’ll never give in to these lying snakes, Lord forgive me for my mistakes, you know I’m only human, forgive these racist judges too, for they know not what they’re doing. 


       A Circus of Injustice
By Roderick Ondra Williams

Verse #1
Shackled like a slave, imprisoned 20 years in a cage,
Because a D.E.A said, he seen a drug transaction,
He said, he seen it with his own eyes, but it was all lies,
He couldn’t find drugs, so he fabricated a scenario,
Just murdered the constitution, without giving it a proper burial,
Kidnapped at gunpoint, but all they found was one joint,
I said, “Don’t touch me, I’m an American Citizen,
This is a free country and I like to roll up my medicine,”
They checked my nose and found a little residue,
And it was part cocaine, part nasal membrane,
Like I keep telling you, I got a big game, like Rick James,
I party all the time, but I wasn’t doing no big thangs,
I can’t believe the extent, they went to have me in big chains,
Like Django, Wrist and ankles, swollen getting mangled,
Another black man framed, that’s shameful, …
You can lock me away, but not my brain though,
I hit the prison law library, conducted extensive legal research,
Told family members, to make protest signs,
And “FREE Roderick Williams” T-Shirts,
Now go in front of the Court house, and put it on YouTube,
Let these people know, that they done locked up a Guru,
Make it go viral, try to stream it on Hulu,
I don’t know, what you’re used to, but I don’t sit around
And boo, hoo, and when it’s all over, you damn right
We gone sue too, the feds just messed up,
They done stepped in some boo boo,

Verse #2
They said, “in a manner unacceptable to the public,
The defendant conspired to get money with other subjects,
All being in violation of laws governing the United States,
He flaunted around in other towns ,with out of state
License plates, causing local females to perform fellatio,
At a very high ratio, not to mention premarital sex, and the
majority of it interracial,” I was the criminal defendant
With more integrity than the whole court, they had
To railroad me, because I was, taking no shorts,
My lawyer was mad at me, thought I was trying to show him up
Like laws were gang signs, I’d get in the Court and throw them up, and
at the same time alleging misconduct, even though they hid it,
I got crimes committed, by the government documented,
I’m pushing paper, filing motions to dismiss
And to withdraw my attorney, because he refuses to assist,
The Government’s paying him, and they’re paying the Judge too,
It’s three friends and a stranger, and the stranger is guess who,
A cover up, they covered up evidence of my innocence,
And brought up old skeletons, like my innocence had no relevance,
Insulting my intelligence, they said to hell with the constitution,
part of some right wing extremists, political revolution,


Verse #3
There was more prosecutor misconduct, than
The Senator Ted Stevens case, one of the biggest
Prosecutor misconduct scandals, in the history of
Our nation, I wrote complaint after complaint to the
Different Bar-Associations, three years later, every
News Paper in America, said these same prosecutors
Had destroyed a Senator’s character, this is a true
Story, look it up on your computer, type in “Tables
Turn on the Ted Stevens Prosecutors,” Go online,
To the New York Times, April 8th, 2009, read it,
“Prosecutors, under investigation,” well, two of
Them, were mine, it’s true, I caught them lying,
I used to scream it, with profanity, because
I knew I was right, like Bill O’Reilly and
Shawn Hannity, they lack humanity, they arrested
My whole family, so much calamity, I almost
Pled insanity, suspicious deaths, I suffered
Silently, I do my best, to address, these
Issues non-violently, Now I write to free my people,
Somebody’s gotta do it, locked in a cell, secured in a unit,
Surrounded on a compound, with guards all around,
Inside several gates, high fences, and big walls, razor
Wire, gun towers, and pit falls, before I can free
Myself I have to free the truth, I was wrongly
Convicted, and I have proof


“Justice Denied” 
By Roderick Ondra Williams

There’s outrage in the community,
Some cop using their badge as an opportunity,
To kill black people with impunity
Because he had a cellphone, or reached for his waistband,?
We’re running out of patience, with these same justifications,
These lame investigations, that favor law enforcement,
Like our lives aren’t important, and when we have these
Conversations, our positions are distorted,
Nobody’s saying all cops are crooked,
That’s just how you took it,
What we’re saying is, we’re astonished, that the bad ones don’t get punished
And shocked they’re not admonished, when there’s evidence they’re dishonest
It doesn’t take Nostradamus to predict the outcome,
When there’s only two witnesses, and police took out one,
We keep asking how come, and here’s the real story,
Police, Prosecutors, and Judges, all abuse their Authority,
What the public doesn’t know, well, at least not the majority,
Is these Judges let abuses slide, some of them take the police’s side,
Just to protect the police’s pride, they'll lie and deny,
and let an innocent man fry, imagine doing 20 to life,
Because the police lied, and the whole time begging for
Justice, only to get denied.



Solutions
By Roderick Ondra Williams

Police complaints should be put online
If police are public servants
Then they won’t mind,
We can look up their history
What do you think we’re gonna find. Ruthless racists, being exposed
As wolves in sheep’s clothes
By cellphone videos
Have them take a lie detector
When you hire a detective,
One objective, on top of being effective Is to make sure they aren’t racists
Or falsifying cases
Polygraph test them on a regular basis
Call the United States Congress
Keep it on their conscience
Cops killing blacks, seems to
Have turned into a contest
Where they win a “paid vacation”
And we put up with that nonsense
It’s like having a conversation about race relations
Without the consideration of mass incarceration
Wrongful convictions, unreasonable suspicions
And the destruction of black families in the Criminal Justice System.


Tyranny
By Roderick Ondra Williams

In the land of the free, they put us UNDER SURVEILLANCE,
they lock down, whole town's NOW,
When they’re chasing assailants, it’s tyranny,
and OPPRESSION, like VOTER SUPPRESSION,
Put us in Federal CORRECTIONS, so we can’t vote in elections, 
Violate Constitutional PROTECTIONS,
We’re caught with “no dope,”
Charged with “Ghost dope,”
and we have “No Hope,”
For a fair trial, 
Because these lawyers are dump trucks delivering us up, 
to a Prosecutor’s Misconduct, 
And these Judges are RACISTS
they’re Rubber-Stamping cases,
To fill up bed spaces,
The WORST is fed CASES,
Shipped off to different PLACES, 
Surrounded by head cases,
It’s all so NEGATIVE,
And REPETITIVE,
2 thousand miles away from my NEAREST relatives.


Be Grateful
By Roderick Ondra Williams

My pockets were fat, now they’re flatter than a flapjack
I went from being a Mack to getting kicked around like a hacky sack
By the feds, because they’re flipping snitches like acrobats, convicting defendants with half the facts
And then they give our ass the max 
I’m under attack
I’m fighting back, like I’m in the UFC
I started my bid in Atwater, USP
Completely innocent, I still had no immunity
22 years, for “ghost dope,” this is lunacy
Because of jealousy and hate, persecuted at an early age 
Victories, no felonies, had the state in a rage
Beat so many cases, these racists brought in the feds 
State prosecutors were running out of court with their face red
 22 years, on the word of one base head
But I bounce back like a handball, to count stacks and stand tall 
A boss, like my man Ross 
Loss pros, cause they ran off 
In prison growing old and gray like I was Gandolf

Be grateful for every breath that you take
Every day that you’re awake
Every dime that you make
Be grateful for every moment on this planet
Now I understand that
 I took it all for granted 
I was already grieving because my mama died
You can call it natural causes but it looked like a homicide
They locked me up when I was already traumatized
And getting bad vibes from all the women that I womanized
And I apologize, they didn’t deserve it
Forgive me baby, none of us is perfect
I appealed to the Supreme Court and the Ninth Circuit
Denied!
Around the same time my son died
And both sisters passed away
Now it’s like I’m a castaway
It’s like every other day
They’re calling me down to the chaplain
I’m not sure what’s happening
It’s like my whole life’s unraveling
Prisoners grappling
Shanks long like a javelin 
They locked me in the black box, while traveling, like I might stab them
18 hours on a bus, shackled and handcuffed
I went from pros everywhere, nose in the air
Legendary player, how did I wind up here?
I swear in my despair, I became spiritually aware 
I turned to prayer and god was there
Found out I had another son when I was a teenager
Read my prosecutors were corrupt on the front of newspapers
Wrote books you normally won’t see in the media 
With more knowledge and wisdom about the system than encyclopedias
The feds is devious these haters they still hate
But I’m walking in faith so I still feel like Bill Gates


The Struggle
By Roderick Ondra Williams

Man, it’s so evil, how they do my People, 
It’s a different form of SLAVERY, 
but SLAVERY’S still legal, 
Because the U.S CONSTITUTION, 
13th AMENDMENT, 
Left a loophole to ENSLAVE, 
SLAVE DESCENDANTS, 
It SAYS ONCE their CONVICTED, 
CRIMINAL defendants, can be held in bondage,
And it’s rarely acknowledged, 
that there’s more BLACK men in PRISON, 
than there is in college,
You’ve witnessed the UNFAIRNESS,
It’s been brought to YOUR awareness, 
BLACKS get MORE “time” than terrorists, 
And you act like you could care less, now people of all RACES, 
Are ensnared by these SAME LAWS, Brothers and SISTERS IN THE STRUGGLE, 
We should be fighting for the SAME CAUSE … 



Roderick O. Williams 15192-006
FCI Mendota
P.O. Box 9
Mendota, CA 93640
Roderick Williams is from Anchorage, Alaska. He is one of the nation’s leading experts on police and prosecutorial misconduct. Not only from reading about it but also from experiencing it firsthand. He is the author of “Ku Klux Kourts; America’s Hidden Injustice” and “Disguised as Justice; An Innocent Man in Prison speaks out.”Roderick is also a father and activist who has spent years diligently working behind the scenes and razor wire, to expose injustice and reform our Nation’s Criminal Justice System.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

A Smaller Tail Wagging a Larger Dog (Otherwise Known As: I’m Not Going to Say I Told You So, Part II)

It is Christmas morning on Death Row in Texas.  Thus far, no fat men in red coats have been seen, though plenty of fat ones in gray coats are available.  In any case, I suspect that the Polunsky Unit is not exactly old St. Nic’s pre-planned route.  If those of us here don’t make the “naughty” list, I don’t know who does.  I always hang a gray state sock outside my door, just to see how the guards will react to it.  This is always illuminating, and I have actually seen several of them pause, connecting the dots leading them to places they had never wanted to go.  The female working the pod this morning, for instance, won’t look me in the face.  Just wait until I wish her a Merry Christmas later…In any case, I suppose the sock is also a bit of hedging on my part, just in case somebody decides to deposit some coal in there.   Very useful stuff, coal, especially when the heaters “break” again, an event which seems to occur with an alarming regularity.

The natives are restless.  Twice a year, the kitchen makes an effort on the trays, and today happens to be one of them.  I have it on good authority that for the appetizer course we will be having a torchon of moulard duck foie gras from Élevages Périgord of Quebec, served with a crystallized apple chip, some celery-branch batons, Granny Smith apple marmalade, candied walnuts, frisée and juniper-balsamic vinegar, spread thickly on brioche toast that the guards will replace every few minutes.  Brioche, you know, should never be eaten cold, which makes it grow heavy and stiff.  For the main course…you know, as I write this, the realizations strikes me that the misinformation available to the general public over all things carcereal is so broad and deep (not to mention ridiculous) that I might actually be believed for writing this crap.  Bloody depressing, that.  We are having baked chicken, I think.  So, like, relax, Senator Whitmire.  You can lay off the tedious something-must-be-donery until the end of the year, thanks.

Politics and the law tend to take a breather during December, but this is by no means absolute.  In a curious and lamentable coincidence, both of my neighbors received bad news from the courts over the past two weeks.  My neighbor on the left was denied relief by the Federal District Court, and my neighbor on the right got shot down by the 5th Circuit, the last stop on the road to the Supreme Court.  This was analogous to receiving an execution date, as the Roberts court has firmly and finally solved the centuries-old legal riddle about whether the SCOTUS was right because it was last, or last because it was right.  We found out about his ruling yesterday, on Christmas Eve.  I suppose that the ruling was probably issued on Friday, but the news media didn’t need filler material until Saturday evening.  Merry Christmas, convict.

This man’s case deals with a drug deal gone bad.  He was de-toxing something fierce (to hear him tell it), and was so jumpy that when his connection pulled a zip-lock bag from his pocket, it took on the form of a gun.  Ten seconds later, a man was dead and another set his first steps on the path to the execution chamber.  That’s what happens when you are a junky in America, I guess.

Unless your name is the state of Georgia, or South Dakota.  Or Texas. Or Nebraska.  A few months ago, I WROTE ABOUT the increasing difficulties that these cartels, er, states, were having getting their fix killing juice.  Georgia was caught red-handed skulking about the slums of London, purchasing smack from an illegal pharmacy operating in the back closet of a driving school.  Texas was busted using a DEA identification number for a hospital that had ceased to operate about the same time I was learning to say “bullshit”.  If these tales didn’t make you feel at least a little slimy, hold on.  When addictions or Americans are involved, it almost always gets worse before it gets better.

Call it a moral awakening, if you like.  Call it REPRIEVE kicking a little butt.  Whatever the reason, a slew of pharmaceutical companies have put their European-styled loafers down and refused to export execution chemicals to the US.  Words like “Nazi medicine” have been popping up in major Euro newspapers.  Teva from Israel, Sandoz from Austria, Kayem Pharma from India…the list gets longer every few weeks.  Earlier this month, the European Union officially banned the export of some barbituric acids, including thiopental.  What’s a poor state to do?

Well, they could start by having a frank and honest discussion over the arbitrariness of the current system, like, say, they are doing in Connecticut and Oregon.  Or, they could follow the lead of Nebraska and pay a shadowy operative to steal the chemicals.  Enter Chris Harris.  At one time, Mr. Harris was a broker for the Indian firm Kayem Pharma. Seeing a chance to make some spending cash, he illegally sold 500 grams of thiopental (enough to kill 166 human beings, by my count) to Nebraska and South Dakota, for the grand total of $2,000.00. (For those interested, that establishes the value of a human life at the astonishing sum of 12 dollars.  Uplifting, isn’t it?)  Keep in mind, Nebraska and South Dakota have managed to collectively execute precisely one person this century, so what exactly they thought they were doing buying 500 grams is an open question.  Well, it turns out we have these pesky laws against importing just any old chemical, and the shipment was seized by Uncle Sam, who may have been morally opposed to the actionor simply looking to re-stock their own supplies.  Kayem Pharma knew nothing about the sale, and expressed dismay over the whole affair, saying that executions violate the ethos of Hinduism, once again illustrating just how far behind the moral curve Southern Baptists are in the world of the theists.  Ganesh pwns j00!  Anyways, Kayem fired Harris, and fired off some emails that have become public.  Calling him a “piece of shit thief” does not, apparently, violate the Hindu ethos, a happy and entertaining footnote to this sorry act.

Like any good peddler of narcotics, Harris would not be deterred by something as trivial as the law.  He recently approached Swiss pharmaceutical company Naari, pretending to be in the market for thiopental which would be used during operations in Zambia.  The company shipped some off, which were then diverted by Harris back to the state of Nebraska.  This time around, he upped the price for 485 grams to $5,411.00.  Who pays nearly three times more for some stolen property only months later?  Addicts, of course.  It hardly needs to be mentioned, but all of the states thus mentioned as addicts of death are firmly entrenched in the Red State category.

The men back here speak about such developments in excited terms.  Hope is all too easy to grasp under these circumstances.  I killed myself in my head a very long time ago, so from my remove the antics of Chris Harris and these stammering, red-faced Repubs are, well, humorous, sort of like watching a bunch of clowns cram into a 1972 Yugo.  It is a little disconcerting to see the red, white and blue dragged through the mud like this, but after Iran-Contra, experimentation by US scientists on prisoners in Latin American prisons, Monica and her cigar, and eight years of Bush II, I have developed sufficient antibodies to protect me.  Thus numbed, perhaps it is easier to see that all of the hullabaloo surrounding the drug cocktail is mere window-dressing the power of death.  The polling numbers on this issue can be confusing.  How the questions are asked makes all the difference, so I am not sure if anyone really knows the true level of support for capital punishment in America.  I am painfully aware that America is basically a center-right nation, politically.  We make some stupid decisions as people, but we are not a stupid people.  Why is it that certain outcomes seem inevitable, when we move from polling small groups to large ones?  It’s something about the shift from individual conscience to a collective one, meaning that it is the nature of our political system to corrupt the true desires of the populace.  No matter what we believe individually, good ideas seem to die in House committees, while bad ones run rampant…

While the numbers of people who approve of the death penalty are dropping, a majority still supports it in most polls.  What we say we believe and what we actually support through action are two different things, though, a subject I have always found curious.  So I did a little number crunching on this subject, using 13 different statistical sources.  What I found surprised me not in the least.

I started by looking at the numbers of death sentences and executions on a state by state level. Then I delved further, down to the level of the counties.  What I found was that the death penalty in the US is actually a minority practice.  In one report (A Broken System, Part II: Why There Is So Much Error in Capital Cases, and What Can De Done about It, by James S Liebman et al.), I found that 34 states sentenced at least one person to death, yet over 60% of the counties in these states did not impose a single death sentence in the 23 period of review.  This, despite the fact that there were more than 332,000 homicides and 120,000 murder convictions occurring in these jurisdictions.  When you look at actual levels of executions (instead of merely imposing a death sentence, which in many states are overturned a high majority of the time), the numbers are even more alarming.  Only 454 (14%) of the nation’s 3,147 counties, parishes, and boroughs carried out an execution since 1976.  In other words, six out of seven counties in this pro-DP nation haven’t carried out an execution in 4.5 decades.

Fourteen counties – representing about .4 percent of all US counties, encompassing less than 5% of the nation’s population – carried out over half (53%) of all executions.  23% of all executions came from exactly 6 counties, accounting for fewer than 2% of all Americans.  28% of Americans account for over 95% of executions.  A clear majority (57%) of Americans live in counties that have not executed a single person in a half century.  Over 70% reside in counties that have executed one person or less during that period.

Texas has carried out almost 500 executions since the “modern” death penalty era began the wake of the Gregg decision.  The states competing for this dubious honor have a long way to go to catch up:  Virginia in the number 2 spot, has killed 108 human beings.  Next comes Oklahoma with 96, and Florida with 69.  Harris County (the main county of Houston, Texas) has sentenced over 290 men to die, meaning that the # 2, #3, and #4 states on the overall execution list would have to combine just to compete with one single county in Texas.  Adding to the confusion of all of this is that almost 2/3 of counties in Texas did not carry out a single execution in the past 35 years.

Zooming back out to the national level, I then focused on certain states where the death penalty seems to be in a state of suspended animation.  What I found was that a death sentence in California, Connecticut, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Nevada, Kansas, and Tennessee amounts to little more than a multi-million dollar cruel joke.  In Nevada, for instance, there are 77 men on death row.  They have executed 12 since 1976.  11 of these were volunteers – men who gave up their appeals.  This means that only 1.2% of death sentences actually adjudicated by state courts have been carried out.  The following chart will help drive this point home:


All of the numbers presented here cry out for an explanation.  I have already waxed philosophic (or idiotic, at times) over many of them for years, and I won’t tread over old ground here.  The main point that I am trying to make here is that whatever we claim, we are actually not a death penalty nation.  We are a nation of abstainers controlled by a few rabidly pro-DP counties.  If that doesn’t spell “arbitrary”, then I am badly in need of a new dictionary.


To my California-based readers:
For those of you on my side of the abolition issue, you will have an opportunity to participate in the death of the death penalty next year.  Unlike in most states, the Lege cannot abolish capital punishment – it must be killed at the ballot box.  The SAFE California Campaign will attempt to do this next year during the 2012 election cycle, and some polls indicate that this drive may actually have a chance.  Doing so would count as one of the greatest victories for our side in the history of this issue, and will set the trend for the entire Western portion of the nation.  The Act would replace capital punishment with life in prison without parole, require convicted murderers to work and pay restitution to a victim’s compensation fund and direct some of the money saved to solving more rapes and murders.  If you would like to support this movement, you can find the website for the SAFE California Campaign HERE.  Get to work!


© Copyright 2011 by Thomas Bartlett Whitaker. All rights reserved

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Poetry by Kevin Potts

Take Me As I Am
By Kevin Potts
Inspired by Lyfe Jennings song “If Tomorrow Never Comes”

I ask God, do you see me?
Do you see the tears I cry?
And the man I strive to be?
Do you see my heart that’s scarred?
Scarred from many heartbreaks and lies
Smiles and moments of loud cries
Can you see my victories and defeats?
I hope so because I lay them at your feet
I don’t want to carry my pain, my anger and hate
My days, God, I wish to dwell with you
Please tell me I am worth it
Even though I don’t deserve it
Just have mercy on me
See my past no more,

As I walk through your door



Troubled
By Kevin Potts

My mind has not been my own
I hear voices of my failures
I am never alone
I walk around with my face angry
Yet me heart torn
I seek personal change,
To be reborn
A new me, a new person
With a love in my life
I know is certain
I turn away while halfway to the door
Cause I’m scared of rejection
That I don’t want to feel no more
I’ll sit here
Yes I will
With a mind of indecision
Where I cut through my mind with precision
Sometimes I rather feel the hurt
Than run the risk to be treated like dirt
I’m me

I’m the troubled me


Never
By Kevin Potts

Pick up my heart
Don’t leave it there!
As if you never cared
My love for you ran deep
You dispose if it as if it’s nothing to keep
Your mockery brings my pain
Do you want to reinflict?
I don’t get why you treat me like this 
I love you before you loved yourself
I was your warrior when there was nobody else
Now you got money and others come around
You forgot I was always down
PICK UP MY HEART!
DON”T LEAVE IT THERE
You spit and mock
Then walk away
I knew then
You never cared


Hindsight
By Kevin Potts

I look down with a face of disguise
Not knowing who to love or who to trust
I suffered injustice, tell me is it enough?
The callouses on my heart are getting more tough
Don’t ask me who I am 
Because I don’t know
Don’t ask me what are my dreams
Because I live in nightmares
The thought of death
Doesn’t leave me scared
My heart’s stripped of its integrity
But somewhere there might be love inside there
No one comes to rescue this child
This child who never cried is old
Engulfed by the insanity that lurks in the hood
I got locked up they didn’t come looking for me
I gave to everybody with love
Now I look around, it tells me who my real friends will be
When you ask for a picture of me
I can send a blank sheet
Because my face means nothing for all I can see.

Don’t Wake Me
By Kevin Potts

If I have to wake and the image of you disappears
I rather be left here
Where I can never leave you behind
You’re forever in my mind
I can feel you, touch you
Hold you and love you
And never be left out of your presence
Still your beauty is marked with perfection
When I am not close to you, I turn paranoid
I can’t wake, because I don’t want to be lonely
My heart in real life is in pieces
I need you to console me
So don’t make me opening my eyes to this world without you
In the world I can’t have you
It’s a brutal truth
If I lose sight of you
My eyes will weep rivers
Don’t wake me up
Before I open my eyelids
I rather God take me up

With Me
By Kevin Potts

What’s life without you
I wish to not know
A love so deep for you
I can’t let go
To fall in love with you
Was beyond my choice
We were destined
When I heard your voice
In love with you
Is what I will always be
Dreams every night
Of your body close to me
I can love you
Soon  you’ll see
You were destined to be with me




Kevin Potts BH8085
California Men's Colony State Prison
P.O. Box 8101
San Luis Obispo, CA 93409-8101


My name is Kevin Potts.  I am a college graduate.  I write songs, poetry and plays.  I am currently on my second draft of an urban novel and my first draft of a psychological thriller novel.  I have two CD’s, one play and one poetry book complete.  I am looking for literary agents and publishers.  I enjoy sunsets and nature.  If you need poems let me know.  God bless. 

Friday, December 16, 2011

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Poetry by Bradley Meredith

Moral Interrogation
By Bradley Meredith

Tell me!  What is the point my friend?
Always pointing your fingers again and again?
When every bit of the blame
Seems to be wrapped in shame,
Found in the fit of your own head, so frail.

Why go through the drama each day,
Troubling so many others this way?
With thoughtless words not needed,
Hammering out advice seldom heeded;
Don’t you have problems of your own to nail?

When will you learn this single fact;
To let go of the past you have constantly packed
Holding on until the very end,
May break the back that will not bend,
When you are passed over by your future.

How can you even envision yourself
Blinded all your arrogance and worthless wealth
Now all your prized and cherished pride
Seems to have stripped you out of your stride
A person cannot prevail until they lift their own veil

Bradley Meredith 69642
Riverside Regional Jail
500 Folar Trail
Noah Prince George, VA 23860


Poetry By Harold Wesley

Mr. President
By Harold Welsey

Mr President why you continue to divide the country with the hate you spread
A true le`ade`r brings people together and unites the people that are not weak

Though we are people of different faiths - backgrounds - and colors
We are still mothers - fathers - sisters - and brothers

There is no shame in not knowing everything, nor asking questions
Put your pride to the side and listen that’s you real blessin’

However you must stop the hateful rhetoric you speak
And stop posting your thoughts on the internet with a tweet

You see we’re in a spiritual war that’s not political
There are powers and principalities happening which is quite literal

Mr President thank God we cannot see what is beyond our own eyes
Comprehension is beyond us so I pray for knowledge & understanding to become

Hate has no place in this space evil smiling in my face
Ready to kill me cause we’re not of the same race

Don’t blame video games or mental health
For the cause of death when NRA is your source of wealth

Please do not be foolish enough to lie to me
When we all know you support white supremacy

Mr President your words have power to influence the same very disturbed people
Their actions ay at your feet, hat a love could never be equal

So I hope you take the time to reflect and re-invent
What your job entails even though you’re not my president


Walk With Me
By Harold Welsey

On this dark road my spirit is alone
No one to call on I’m completely on my own
However present is the presence of feeling whole
Who is this that loves me as he captures my soul
Love lives past this dirty dark sinful road
Screams of people dying’ as another bomb explodes
Where am I going when my destination is unknown
Being guided by unseen forces not being shown
Floating swiftly by the graves of my ancestors
My heart is broken but the anger refuses to fester
A cooling calm renew my resolve to seek peace
Tears flowing from my eyes as I continue to release
Moving amongst the seas of an ocean breeze
Tender kisses lovingly covers my face as I feel these
Wondering why my heart is full as I continue on

No longer am I on this scary dark road walking alone.



Wake Up Call
By Harold Welsey

How many innocent people have to die before things change
This idiot stoking racial fears of minrities is fucking insane.

Saying he send his thoughts and prayers please miss me
He the same bastard that bragged about grabbing women by the pussy

And claim their is good people on both sides
This buffoon has been caught in so many lies

Maybe he doesn't realize his words will be recorded and put on repeat
Slow to respond to real issues but quick to send out a tweet

Go to Gilroy or Texas or Ohio and tell them you send condolences
They will kick you fat ass and tell you where to stick your condolences

People are tired of the suffering and pain
Don’t you realise life is real it’s not a fucking game.

Your heart don’t go out to no one because you don’t care
But let that be a muslim killing people you would be allover the air

Saying send them back to where they came from
When you not even from America youself damn you dumb

In the words of Hillary Clinton no man that can be baited with a tweet
Should have the nuclear codes

Wake up U.S.A or watch our country continue to erode.


Resist
By Harold Welsey

Resist: The political craze that will make you change your ways
Corruption pays find your way out of the maze
Resist: The powers that speak glory to racial divisions
While the mass incarcerations manifest of our loved ones in prison
Resist: the hate groups that only wants us to fight
Because they fear inclusion of civil rights when we unite
Resist: Anyone who wants to silence the resistance
Our freedom of independence is democratic in our existence
Resist: Our oppressors no peace to my aggressors
Those who died on the right side of history is my successors
Resist: Not my raised black fist on the Government hit list
But those who want me dead cause my voice will be missed
Resist: The negative impact that’s affecting our way of life
Our voices will never be silenced no matter the suffer and strife
Resist: That oxymoron named Donald Trump he ain’t my president
He will never speak for the people that much is evident
Resist: Anyone who cannot love you unconditionally
Who only wants to use and abuse you intentionally
Resist: People who bully you and say you are a nobody
Look in the mirror and know that God loves you, you are somebody
Resist: No one who only wants to insist
Accept all Allies without prejudice continue to insist
But if anyone invades your space and gets you pissed

Don’t punch them in the face simply Resist - Resist - Resist


Venting
By Harold Wesley

You Think this life I live is a game
Every day I wake up figuring out ways not to go insane
Don’t judge me cause I take chronic to the brain
I’m livin’ a hard knocked life you can’t see my pain

My anger is white hot like a boiling pot
Don’t think for a moment this is all I got
Strip me down to nothing when will the beatings stop
Gametime is up you move you get shot

I’m all out of control witness my soul
Being in prison is a bitch now it’s a reality show
Fake ballers and snitches seem to be in control
Greenwall beefin’ with cops gone are the good CO’s

Only God knows when it will all end livin’ in sin
Too many losses so now it’s my time to win
Only way to vent is to pick up this pen
And write this poem down before I die and my new life begins

Damn right I’m mad I’m outraged living in a cafe
Where these white folks analyze my rage
Call me uncooperative because I refuse to engage
My story ain’t over to know more turn the page


A Prayer Request
By Harold Wesley

Dear Heavenly Father I come to you on bended knee
In hopes you will hear by voice and answer my pleas

I know you busy Lord by doing so much
Please bless me with your presence with a slight touch

Thank you Jesus for allowing me to sense you near
Through these lips of clay I speak without fear

I praise ya by saying Hallelujah to thy name
Your cooling spirit removes my doubt, stress and pain

Father forgive me for not calling you more
I promise to do my best and prepare for this spiritual war

Thank you Jesus for never leaving nor forsaking me
By your blood I am healed and have the victory

Give me the power to rebuke Satan and all his devices
I’m on is hit list but dare him to try this

Dear Heavenly Father, remember the widow, fatherless and stranger
They need your loving protection to keep them from danger

When I speak to you I pray for my words to be abundant
Let not my prayers to you Lord ever be redundant

Keep me covered with your precious holy blood
Continue to turn me away from sinning and keep me good

You know my ways and hold the keys to my heart
I love you forever like you loved me from the start

God grant me the patience of your servant Job
Bless me the courage to forever stand bold

Hear me Jesus please show me the way

I love you with my heart, soul, mind and strength each and every day


Burdened by Love
By Harold Wesley

Love is defined by the communion of two becoming one
What whispers qualify me to know your secrets
Purify the promise to ease love with an open heart
Being and becoming present in the eyes of your lover

Lovemaking filled with passion blesses the marriage bed
Pleasure each other in a way the pleases the creator
Revolutionizing the senses agrees with the quest of discovery
Requesting action which soothes the rhythm of life

Possess no one who is not worthy of possession
Pursue just causes that will have an impact on your life
Perfection only exist when God’s love guides the relationship
Love remakes the vision within your mind

Laugh be joyful and never go to sleep with hate in your heart
Dismiss carnal lust that will destroy your peace
Keep a sound mind, body, and spirit and take nothing for granted
Never close the door on someone who only wants to love you

My Story 
By Harold Wesley

All my life I had to do Right, I Left home on my own Then I seen The Light, Having Bill Gates Drams Wasn’t Easy As It seemed, so I Learned The value of A Dollar And kept Myself Clean

Even Though I was young And Doing Wrong I knew That At home is where I Didn’t be long, but Don’t Get me wrong I Love my family But Between You And I They Didn’t understand me

So I Rebelled And stayed out in the streets and their was even a time when I slept on the concrete and after that I vowed to never again to come to that and I haven’t been back, The streets are hell but not worse than jail you just have to follow the program and you'll do swell have your girl send you mail with pictures included you can talk to cats but keep yourself secluded

This is my story

I've seen people get caught up too many times so I stay to myself for sometime to unwind, I'm not trying to be around the tension and stress, because that's when you see things start to manifest, right before your eyes then you realize when somebody blast ya saprise - saprise you should always pay attention to what's going on I don’t care if you do or belong. This is my story.

We all have choices, like we all have two voices
Your good and bad conscious yes two choices
Love vs. evil good vs. bad
It's okay to do for people but get had
I'm glad that this is the life I chose
To turn my life around before it comes to a close
End of my story


Is Your Pain Like Mine?
By Harold Wesley

Is your like mine?  Do you hurt all the time?
Can you not find comfort. Is there no peace of mind?
You ever been blind? Do you make mistakes?  Have you
Ever committed a crime? Are you free from sin?
IS your closet clean, what you hiding in the dark?
What’s behind the scenes? What makes you better than me?
Are you unfallable? What ya think your shit don’t stink?
Are you God?  Why are you judging me? Do you know what
It’s like to live my life? Have you felt despair? Have you
Suffered through strife? Are you my flesh & blood? Who are you
To criticize me? Don’t you have flaws, is there blemishes in
your eyes? Are you a hypocrite? Are you honest with yourself?
Have you walked in my shoes? Have you  felr what I’ve felt?
Can you carry my burdens? Can you read my mind?
Can you answer this question, is your pain like mine?


Day of Pain
By Harold Wesley

They say Jesus walks with me, I say no, he carries me
Over this world, where it’s so cold.  Drug get sold
Children suffer, fathers institutionalized by 25 years old
In their life he’s gone, mother’s future is to OD on dope
She’s lost searchin for direction, to the streets she go
Young sistas get paid to satisfy a lonely man’s erection
Ye we label her a ho, young brothas banging against each other
Pistols they hodl can you blame them though?  It’s been
Going on so long.  They see no wrong. It’s a form of
Separation and more misplaced hatred and the government
claims they fighting terrorist supposedly with weapons of mass
Destruction.  When they hold the same views I see this
As corruption.  They got money for wars but can’t feed and
house the poor . But they could place troops on Boarders block
those from a better life for they kids and wife, stopping
people from getting a piece of the American pie what I’m
seeing ain’t right.  It’s a fear and more of a power control
I see this through my soul as the truth unfolds within me
My spirit continues to grow.  Why is it that I’m young
But feel so old? I ask him “Am I ready to go?” Jesus
whispers back to me ,”no.” he still has plans for me on this road
As he guides me ans show to tomorrow another youngsta misguided
The wrong path he follows, another day of a mother’s sorrow more

Flying hollows with no name, just another day of pain


Democracy Poem
By Harold Wesley

Why can't people understand the freedom of living in
a free society? You see when hate speaks only the
ignorant listens. Weakness is a disease Doctors have
no cure for, so I rise above what's wrong by doing right.
Freedom is my best friend in times of turmoil.
That's what makes America great. The beauty of God's
people within us and all around us. The society I love
 is very diverse with people of all colors from various
walks of life. Sometimes evil wins like President Trump
but his victory is short lived. I'm all for the gentrification
of love, inclusion and unity. Let's not leave out the Asylum
seekers protected by the constitution. In a democratic
society people have the right to live as they see fit
As long as they accept the good and bad consequences
of their actions. Freedom of speech comes with a price
Freedom of religion comes with a price, and depending
on what side of the law you fall on will decide how
steep a price you will pay. It is my duty, my responsibility.
My moral obligation to be the best version of myself
First as a black man, second as an American.
I stand on the shoulders of my Ancestors blood and
Spirit, so today my voice will be heard. Democracy
is when each one of us live our best to enrich
the lives of others. We live in a land of opportunity
So why not be opportunistic? Embrace being present.
The socialism we love is freedom to express our views
without malice and hate. We all have the right to
our own opinion so why the disrespect? Our rights  and
liberties is not for sale or compromise nor is there
any place for racism. Yet hate somewhere else because
if you offended me, then my actions will have consequences

and I will be free to continue living in a democracy.



Picking up The Pieces
By Harold Wesley

Like a jigsaw puzzle not yet finished
Life’s toll upon one’s soul can be quickly diminished

Pieces of me will always be incomplete
Whole as I may feel eventually my heart will no longer beat

Down in the dumps yet I continue to rise
Another piece of my life in order slowly becoming wise

Patience is a virtue my mind chose to investigate
Endurance manifested by the ability to love not hate

That’s when your spirit will be enriched by the theory of relativity
Molded pieces of people fit together in the essence of unity

Like fire and ice that’s hot and cold
No one should ever feel alone always stand bold

Life is social not an isolated event
Born into sin so on my knees I repent

Becoming who you are brings about true freedom to heal
Being present in time makes life real

Picking up the pieces of life can be done

In order to complete the puzzle you have to start with one - piece



Desires of the Flesh 
By Harold Wesley

Raw passionate intense intimate pleasurable satisfaction
Our human bodies arave these interactions
What is desirable to the eyes makes our blood rush
The attraction of what I find wanting makes me wanna touch
The bite of your lower lip indicates something exciting
Your body and smile in your eyes is very inviting
I wanna love you and rock that body all night long
My passion is everlastin’ and my back is strong
Hot, drippin, and wet a moment you will never forget
In the throes of sexual fulfillment two bodies become one flesh
The swell of your breast as  you catch your breath
Surrendering my heart & soul to you I’m the last one left
Your pouting full lips are always so kissable
The curvy body of your being is tenderly permissible
I push my love inside with dignity and pride
Your eyes blazin with the victory as  you enjoy th3e ride
Completion is absolut like the end of creation
Which is manifested upon full penetration
Hold me never let go I’m trapped my heart is yours
A tear drops from my eyes as I’m knockin’ on heavens door
Temptation will always come in the form of a test
Now I understand why people have desires of the flesh



What About Us 
By Harold Wesley

Why am I forgotten? How come my love is dismissed
The blessing and curses of life so many tortured souls missed

Is it true that people fear what they don’t understand?
Then why is there a pattern of white cops killing innocent black men

What about us? The forgotten in prison left to rotten
My own death, burial and resurrection like God’s only begotten

One day there will be no shame, no more blame or pain
Talking to God in prayer tears fallin’ cleanses my soul like rain

People who say they my family love me unconditionally
Don’t fully grasp the inception of prison reality

When that phone rings and they ask do you want his bodily remains
Will make you realise that shit is real not a game

I speak only for the humble and meek
Whose path is onward to knowledge and wisdom who seek

One day soon I will kiss the tears from my Momma’s eyes
Don’t blame God and ask why I’ll be at peace when I die

But for now I keep my feet on the ground
Wishin’ I wouldn’t have to hear screamin or foreign sounds

Ignore those who voice outrage and can’t keep quiet
True wisdom sparks silence not violence use your brain the real riot

For those stuck inside this hellish prison maze
Relapse the padlocks from your mind then amaze

Only in God do I put my trust

Because at the end of the day he will never say what about us


Angel with the Broken Wings
By Harold Wesley

This is a story about an angel with broken wings
That came to me in a dream
And said I know all I have seen all things

Yet I couldn’t get over the fact that his wings
Was old, broken, and dirty
Knowing my thoughts he replied in the eyes of God
I was deemed worthy

So I asked my angel why do you look like you are in
Suffering and pain
He replied you will bear many trials and tribulations
In your life before calling his name

Then he continued to say when that bullet whizzed
Passed your head and you should been dead
I took that shot so you could live and I also
Pleaded before God to spare your life which is why you live

I was with you in that house where you was sellin crack
I was your light in the dark that had your back

When you was out partying and having a good time
I was alone fighting satan and his demons while
I wasn’t a thought in your mind

So I said to my angel you went through all that to keep
Me livin’?
Yes he responded quickly because even though you sinnin’
Jesus is love and God is forgivin’

Now he continued I’ma tell you why I look the way
I do
Because your life was rough and I fought for you every
Step of the way

God told me to protect you from the moment you come
Out of your mothers womb
And I must continue to protect you till you rest in the tomb

You know none of these things for they are unseen
And when yo make it to heaven I will be healed and my wings will be clean

But how do you know my fate? He cut me off
And said God is in charge God is reat

Remember how i told you from the beginning
I have seen all things? Who do you think been
With you this whole time in prison protecting you
Me the angel with broken wings

Now I must leave you and continue to fight the evil one
So I hope you can cope

But you said you would neer leave that’s when I awoke


Body of Christ 
By Harold Wesley

The Lord Jesus was beaten over and over and over again
An innocent man punished for my sins
They mocked him, spit on him, ripped flesh from his skin
Called him vile names and beat him again and again
Not once did he cry out or scream in pain
God’s work was being fulfilled, Christ would soon reign
They made him carry his cross, and put a crown of thorns on his head
Jesus did nothing wrong, yet the people wanted him dead
They hammered thick nails through his hands and feet
Blood cascading down his body splashing on the concrete
Blood and water flowed when they pierced his side
Satan thought he had the victory when Jesus died
The Earth went dark The vile in the temple split in two
Now we can talk to God directly that’s how much Jesus loves you
Who else walks with holes in his feet and hands
Because of the love of Jesus I’m one changed man
Humiliated, beaten, battered and bruised
Who else woulda took that kind of punishment when they are
Being falsely accused
They came and stole him away like a thief in the night
Jesus spoke scripture so his disciples would flee and not have to fight
Satan entered the man with the money Judas to do his wish
Then he betrayed Jesus the saviour with a kiss
I hate what Jesus went through but happy he conquered death
He rose on the third day and for that I have my breath
None of us today wouldn’t have been able to endure his torture and plight
Yet here we stand alive with choices because of his strifes
I am not worthy of God's love through his son
I confessed my sins to Christ now my new life has begun
Protect me from the Evil one because he ain’t nothing nice

Embrace me into your family the body of Christ


Still We Rise
By Harold Wesley


Lowlifes, Thieves, Niggers, Scum, Troublemakers, Liars.
Gangsters, slam the door in my face, spit on me, beat me.
Hang me to a tree, attack with me waterhose, dogs, batons
And guns, castrate me.  Why do you hate me? I’m still a man, a human being
Your brother, why  you hate me?
Still we rise.

My hair is nappy, my lips are full, my eyes are brown
My nose is big, my voice is deep, overlook my knowledge.
See only my color, examine my features
Why are you afraid of me?
I love the human being within you, not the hate you speak
Yet we still push for equality.

Bound to do your bidding, my voice will get me killed.
However, I won’t stay quiet.
You will not have the victory of killing my mind.
Yet we still push for equality.
No man can outrun the destiny of freedom,
Silence me with blindness;  I see beyond my eyes.
Still we rise.

Politicians work for the people, not themselves.
What happened to moral dignity?  Did it die with John McCain?
Kennedy?  Or Dr King?
My hair is nappy, my lips are full, my eyes are brown
My nose is big, my voice is deep.
You will not have the victory of killing my mind.

Let us Rejoice, my Saviour is King!
Make a joyful noise to the Lord!
Do not go to sleep with hate in your heart.
Forgive our oppressors, as God has forgiven us.
Love those who hate you, even if they continue to hate us.
Still we rise.

Reign in the knowledge of spiritual values.
My skin color is not a curse, but a blessing.
Do not let anyone shame you or take away your worth.
No man can outrun the destiny of freedom
Yet continue to push for equality.

Remember, we are all one.
Our job will never be done
Continue to rise up.

Harold Wesley T-05083
Salinas Valley State Prison
P.O. Box 1050
Soledad, CA 93960
Harold Wesley is an upcoming writer and poet.  His style of poetry is what he calls freestyle poetry and varies in topic and subject matter.  This aspiring author strives to create new ideas to enhance the lives of others. If you would like to reach out feel free to write to the address above.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Letters to a Future Death Row Inmate, Part 24

by One Eagle

Part 23 can be seen here

YO – Future Death Row Inmate:

Allow me to welcome you to the insane asylum formally known as Florida’s death row, a place where abnormal behavior is the norm twenty-four hours a day, everyday for the rest of your life. The irony of that is you won’t remain paranoid, as you will eventually come to terms with the fact that society really is trying to kill you. Hey – how insane is that? Alright, let me tell you how insane it is so you might begin to adjust quicker.

Everyone on death row has been judged unredeemable with nobody being special, not even the innocent, and I should know. But I’ll try not to digress on and turn your welcome into a diatribe about my situation.  You already have enough problems of your own to deal with, having found yourself in this nightmare where finding redemption is a mockery.  Your God might set you free but remember society holds the keys and the majority are apathetic to you, as they inadvertently accept that slogan of “Kill them all and let God sort them out.” Ah, you’ll learn soon enough as you go through the legal process, where the judges and attorneys claim the power of God, as it is their 51 million dollar a year industry here in the state of Florida and they have no intention of ending their profiteering off of death’s misery.  Yo, I’m not going to sugarcoat things, as you’ll soon learn the meaning of false hope.  When the attorneys begin selling their wares in the form of appeasement to you, your family, and anyone else close to you, who will say anything they believe will help prevent you from being executed.  As the attorney’s seek to dictate your fate through selling what is and isn’t in your best interest.

Alright, I don’t know your story and really don’t give a damn. I have enough problems of my own.  I’m sure you will find your way as others here offer you their insightful influence.  I wish you the best as you go through the gamut of emotional shock treatments of this hellhole.  Maybe we will meet again, but my death warrant can be signed at any time and after surviving for nearly three decades within this insane asylum shouting to anyone and everyone, “I am innocent!” don’t expect me to make any more sense out of this insanity than what I just shared with you. Keep it real and we’ll talk….

Later,
One Eagle

One Eagle is known by the Florida DOC as Milo Rose.  To learn more about his case, please visit HERE


Milo Rose #090411
Union Correctional Institution
7819 NW 228th Street P3225
Raiford, Florida32026-4430





© Copyright 2011 by One Eagle (Milo Rose) and Thomas Bartlett Whitaker.
All rights reserved

Friday, December 2, 2011

Art by Mathew Aho














Anouk

















Mathew Aho 841807
WSRU D-224
P.O. Box 777
Monroe, WA 98272-0777
I am 35 years old, and the father of three wonderful children. About halfway through a 210 month prison sentence for firearm and burglary charges, I'm utilizing my time by earning a degree from Seattle Central College through University Beyond Bars at Washington State Reformatory in Monroe, Washington. I'm nearly there.