Best Doing Time Poems | Poetry

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Don't stop! The most popular and best Doing Time poems are below this new poems list.

Doing Time With Love by lowe, millard
Just Doing Time by Curtis, Jerry T
Doing Time by King, Thomas
Doing Time in the Coffee Shop by Byrne, David
DOING TIME by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
DOING TIME by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Doing Time by Empulu, Tino
Doing Time in Kimo by horsman, harry
From A Hell Doing Time by Hardy, Christy
Doing Time by hohner, carmella

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The Best Doing Time Poems

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Ghosts of the Sun Dance-Part 1

Ghosts of the Sun Dance

1. The Path

A quest dating back through our history
Surpassing the flesh, a spiritual path
Human endurance, road to mystery
Dark trail winding through the gardens of wrath

It echoes through me, this deep ambition
Half century of miles, lifetime compressed 
Much more than a race, a sacred mission
With light of hardship I hope to be blessed

To outsiders, an act of madness pure
What motivations could compel this feat?
Past limits of human strength to endure
Pushing the body well beyond defeat

Mind and sinews outlasting the firestorm
Transcendence, to shed our skin and transform

2. Sun Dance

Transcendence, to shed our skin and transform
Once, Plains Indians embraced the Sun Dance
Sacred solstice ritual to perform
Life’s rebirth to the sound of drums and chants

Young braves fasting in their preparation
A stout pole connects the lodge to the sun
Days of reveling unite the nation
Dancers’ exhaustion, they seek to outrun

Animal spirits drawn in by the rhythm 
Forked tree with bison’s skull, hooks in their chest
Buffalo, bringer of potent vision 
Delirious dancers complete their quest

The Spirit Quest resounds through history
Beyond mundane, to sacred mystery

3.To Endure and Transcend 

Beyond mundane, to sacred mystery
Japan's “Marathon Monks” of Mount Hiei
The key to their spirit quest victory
To walk a Marathon one hundred straight days

Famed spiritual leader Sri Chinmoy
Believed hearts and spirits could be mended
Through self-transcendence, and he did enjoy
Countless long quests before his time ended

Chinmoy’s best, a fifty day epic quest
A journey thirty-one hundred miles long
Few are those who have ever passed this test
His famous Self-Transcendence Marathon

Darkest night, the gateway to a new morn,
Through painful trials, seeker’s soul reborn

4. The Spirit Is Willing

Through painful trials, seeker’s soul reborn
Deepest pain kindling the soul’s ignition 
Follow the path supplicants’ feet have worn
Transformation’s crux, soul transition

Our defenses and walls cannot let in
Sacred blessings of the gods and spirits
Impenetrable, much to your chagrin
They cannot touch your heart if you fear it

Mortification, a tribulation
Humble display of the supplicant’s worth
A spiritual emancipation,
Pain always accompanies any birth

These transitions in few modern nations
Our world, rare rites of initiation

5. The Fall

Our world, rare rites of initiation
Deconstructed, traditions have been burned
Soulless life breeds infantilization
Perpetuating the puer eterne

To make our lives easier is progress, 
Yet soft life an inadequate mantle
We can also suffer when life lacks stress
True transformation is never gentle

Safety, the goal of civilization
Eliminate risk, its increasing role
Safety’s bitter fruit is stagnation
Comfort cannot forge a resilient soul

Building true human vitality starts
With substance to satisfy questing hearts

6. Aimlessness

With substance to satisfy questing hearts
We dream to build greatness from the humble
Miseducation, meaninglessness start
Intrepid young souls questing for trouble

Drawn to drugs and gangs, tobacco and booze
No deep satisfaction do they contain
Oft mistaken for paying adult dues
But lead instead to spiritual chains

Youthful misadventures, trouble and blues
Sterile environment will generate
Tribal belonging they mark with tattoos
Clumsy efforts to self-initiate

Conquered world without initiations
Life’s road of genuine tribulations

7. Warrior’s Quest

Life’s road of genuine tribulations
Awaits our youth, whether they are prepared
Or not, we note with building frustrations
Future leaders, we see grow up impaired

The warrior within’s heartfelt yearning
A righteous cause in which to do battle
Meanwhile, the subway turnstiles are turning
Young champions doing time as cattle

Quests can be found for the searching young soul
Alas, the focus of education
Not on the development of the whole
But fashioning subjects of this nation

The challenge of living with one’s whole heart
Yielding to those who have mastered the art

Copyright by Author
For contest: Heroic Crown of Sonnets
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Syllables confirmed by

Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016

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These Days

Met with you the first time, knowing not what I had just found.
Working days and nights beside you, walking unit’s hard ground.
Helping one another in and out of these day’s crisis.
Trust in easy comfort sharing secrets and our vices.
Blinded by your selfless nature under our same God’s eyes.
Colored hues of virtue burned into your soul it rides
Times enduring twelves in truth and depth of pasts and yet-tos.
Corners turning heads to tails in trails you doing time thru.
I have watched you suffer dating burden from his cold hand,
Wanting many times to tell you to break from that dead man.
Wisdom needing to remind me, hope was holding you still.
Losing grip, you make the change and years returning, Love will.
My prayers carry wishes for you, one day’s given good spouse.
Under Holy Ghost’s soft guidance, making your home, God’s house.
Sharing smiles and tears in keeping promise past the last day.
Into Christ’s embrace that shines you through a Heaven’s gateway.
Always just a thought away you will be after our end.
Grateful in my heart to have been given such a rare friend. 

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2014

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Early On

Early On

Sitting there alone in class
they said it wasn't cool.
He should not bring his bible
to read while he's in school.

The gave him detention
and they took his book away.
While he watched through the window
when the rest went out to play.

Then one day at home, at play
he was out collecting bugs.
He saw in the shed out back
his daddy doing drugs.

Mom and dad went their own ways
his life was filled with hurts.
Over time as time went on
he turned his back on church.

So many things that he would face
with so little understanding.
Life for him it seems to me
had become just too demanding.

New friends made no games are played
he turned his life to crime.
Until the day the law got him
and now he's doing time.

Other prisoners come and go
each going their own way.
But they gave him a bible
now he reads it every day.

Why is it that we never learn
until our chance is gone?
To give our children hope they need
while it's still early on?

Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015

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Doing Time in Kimo

Thirty days hath September, April, June
November and anyone...
over the speed limit.  

Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2011

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Farewell My Love

Tears Roll Gently My heart cries As it dies once more My arms go limp as you break free Standing alone with memories and a broken heart I am lost, a pauper without a grave, doing time waiting for Him to call me home

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016

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What’s going up and what’s coming down?
How does the dollar compare to the pound?
These were my worries many years past.
I’m finally idle as the years go by fast
Now my worries have flown to the rear 
Violence and terror giving me fear
Bombs bursting and people in the air
Causes and purposes never being clear
Is it terror, or just a random crime?
So many young men still doing time 
So many women still being abused
So many outsiders still being refused.
I think I should shut off the TV news 
Turn on the radio and listen to the blues.

Copyright © Andrew Battaglino | Year Posted 2016

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True Lies II

I remember it all clearly now,
The words he spoke to me
They all came from this bird I saw,
Sitting high up in that tree

At first I thought I'd lost my mind,
Just listening to this bird
But not too long into his tale,
I hung on every word

The tale that he relayed to me,
Was filled with drugs and crime
And ended with a friend of his,
In prison doing time

It started in a park he said,
Just a couple of years ago
He never named the park he meant,
But said that I would know

His friend was walking down this path,
When he came across this man
Who sat beneath a big shade tree,
With a cigarette in his hand

He asked the man for a cigarette, 
Then he smoked it then and there
He said the only reason that he did,
Cause a pigeon double dared

From that day on he couldn't stop,
He was smoking more and more
And to get his fix for nicotine, 
He started robbing liquor stores

Then, when cigarettes no longer worked,
He switched to dip and chew
And swore he'd hit the hard stuff,
Before he was ever through

The cops already knew his name,
By the time he was finally stopped
And they sentenced him to life without,
Inside a local mall's pet shop

I'm sure this tale seems out of place,
Or to you may seem a joke
But its as real as anything could be,
To the friend of which he spoke

That friend has thrown away his life,
I'm sure he must regret
All because he took a dare,
To smoke one cigarette

Copyright © Jeff Cornelius | Year Posted 2016

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I Serve The Lord

I serve the Lord
	By the things I do
            	I am his servant
                       		 These words are true
My eyes have seen things
          Only evil men know
          		My heart has lived places
                       		 Only evil men go
My mind has thought things
	Only evil men think
            	My lips have tasted things
                        	Only evil men drink
I have lived places
	Only evil men live
		I have gave orders
                       		Only evil men give
I once traded my soul
	To live in a flask
            	I lived in the shadows
                       		Adorned with a mask
My truth is my honor
	My words are my plight
	 	I serve the Lord
			By the words that I write
I no longer grow old
	By the light of the moon
            	No longer is my soul
			Swimming in a spoon
I serve the Lord
	By the things that I do
		Have no doubt in your heart
			These words are true
Once in a miracle
	Through the words of a rhyme
		A sinner found Christ
			And stopped doing time
Set free on a mission
	To enlighten your soul
		I follow the Lord
			In search of my goal
The man that I was
	No longer exist
		He died the first time
			My wife and I kissed
Inside of a box
	I decided to pray
		Stepping out of the darkness
			  Embracing the day
I serve the Lord
	Through the words I write
		Your soul is my mission
			Serving God is my plight
I don’t criticize or judge
	That’s just not my way
		I simply bow my head
			And for everyone I pray
The prayer is quite simple
	It’s a spiritual bath
		I just ask the Lord
			To enlighten your path
The brighter the light
	The lighter the Son
		When this life is over
			This job will be done
I follow the Lord 
	He guides my path
		It’s all very simple
			No complicated math
I serve the Lord
	In all that I do
		If you wish to know why
			It’s because I love you

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2010

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To any politician,
Tell someone who cares...
This is society's news I'm reading,
Disaffection and tales of lemmings,
To any politician, 
Tell someone who cares,
Homeless youth, street sleeping,
Drug overdoses away they're sweeping,
To any politician, 
Tell someone who cares,
School leavers, forever unemployed,
Dystopia is being deployed,
To any politician,
Tell someone who cares,
Drug ravaged teens, 
Rapes and stabbing their scenes,
To any politician,
Tell someone who cares,
Disaffection is poverty and crime,
Young armed robbers doing time,
To any politician,
Tell someone who cares,
This is society's news I'm reading,
Anything else our nation could be doing?
To any politician,
Do any of you really care?

Maybe I'm talking to myself, my dears.

Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2015

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Jails parody

Send the convicts to the jails -
Local jails! -
What a world of confinement as their court case fails
Hear the jingle, jingle, jingle
Of the handcuffs as they walk
Now with men they only mingle
They may as well be single
Doing time, time, time,
For a thoughtless bungled crime
As their ratting, pigeon, stoolie partners send them with their tales
To the jails, jails, jails, jails,
Jails, jails, jails -
To the friendly and the cleanly local jails

Send the felons to the jails -
Fed'ral jails!
What a world of isolation as the judge prevails!
Hear the hammer, hammer, hammer,
In the dead and dark of night
As they're locked into the slammer!
All the other inmates clamor
To the jailers delight
Doing time, time, time,
For a botched "ruinic" crime
Which not admitted but committed and their last appeal fails
While in jails, jails, jails, jails,
jails, jails, jails -
While in insufficient and deficient jails

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh | Year Posted 2012

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Doing Time in the Coffee Shop

Thirty five years ago I met a man in the coffee shop.
 He told me that he had been coming here for thirty five years. 
I smiled at him and said really?
That was my first time.
Thirty five years later I am still here in the coffee shop.
Today I spoke to a young man.
I told him I had been coming here for thirty five years.
He smiled at me and said really?
This was his first time.

Copyright © David Byrne | Year Posted 2013

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Have you ever wondered about JUSTICE? What does it really mean? I think that JUSTICE means different things to different people. To some people - JUSTICE is just a form of vengeance or maybe revenge. To others it's a way of consolation, to ease their mind and their pain. It has been said , that JUSTICE is blind. I think they are right, because JUSTICE can't see and sometimes the real criminals go free. When a crime gets commited and a person gets convicted, they get punished with prison time,or the death penalty. People say that JUSTICE was done. Sometimes years later, they find out that the wrong person was convicted. Do you think - that was JUSTICE? If a person is doing time, that person has a chance to go free one day, but if that person was executed, he or she will never come back. Maybe it's time to take off the blindfold so JUSTICE can see. Not everybody is inocent, but I think that more lives could be saved if only JUSTICE could see...
809/03/2012 written by Lucilla M. Carrillo For The serious contest:

Copyright © Lucilla Carrillo | Year Posted 2012

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Once a felon always a felon, right?
Once an addict always an addict, right?
At least an addict can make the choice to leave their drug of choice alone, turn their lives around and make something of themselves
Three strikes you’re out?
PSSSH! More like one!
What type of living can one with the label of a felon make?
Is it at all possible for them to become doctors, lawyers, a fighter of crime?
Their only destiny is to live the life of a partner in crime
The laws don’t allow the growth of someone with a prison record
There is no window period after doing time to show themselves and society that they’ve had some sort of revelation and choose to change
The law IS a partner in crime
The law perpetuates the mindset of a criminal
You may judge somebody that is “bout that life” but what other choices do they have other than 
To rob someone of their life or wealth in an attempt to evade a life with no security or food.
Day by day, hour by hour these people live because they’ve been denied the opportunity of self-improvement
Oh, so it’s unfair for them to rob others for what they have?
THEY have been robbed
The LAW is unfair!
How can you tell them robbery is not okay when the very law has robbed these people?
So should they just commit suicide and allow those who haven’t yet made the mistake of becoming a felon to suffice? 
You may look down on the recurrent inmates asking, 
“Why haven’t they learned”?
“How dumb could they be to make the same mistakes that have landed them in prison”?
Going to jail or prison may not be the objective of their act but at least in prison there is a place to lay their heads and food to eat!
This is ridiculous!

Copyright © JustcallMe Britt | Year Posted 2012

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Just Rhymemember That

I can make a rhyme
It will cost you just a dime
Two nickels or ten pennies would do fine
Now please don't start to wine
Or soon, you just may find
You're standing in the corner doing time
Now, today I'm going to shine
You should simply see the sign
By the smile on my face, you know I'm kind
Sometimes I'm in a bind
And it seems like such a climb
But you surely know, I'm really in my prime
So I, will write it in a line
It won't hardly take much time
So fast, it seems like it should be a crime
But if you think it all sublime
And things don't really chime
You, just show me yours, and I will show you mine

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015

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A piece of foil

She sits at home alone
  Quietly sinking in her comfort zone.
 Loneliness feeds her soul.
  The emptiness takes a toll.
No other way to go.
  She heads to the corner store.

A quick relief to fill that void
  Her love, lies in a piece of foil.
Just another hit, to face the day.
  Takes her to that, private getaway.
Brings her to higher heights
  No transportation needed, to take 
This flight.

Where she goes, nobody knows,
  She finds elated peace, 
to devine to Define.
 Trapped in a cruel body, thats just 
  Doing time.
Embodiment of her being, left behind

Slowly descending back to her destination.  
  Reality is not, her intention.
Comes back home, sitting alone,
  The door slowly opens.
"Honey im home"

Copyright © cherie thomas | Year Posted 2013

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Don't Do It

I have an idea for the perfect crime
Don’t listen you’ll end up doing time
The idea is perfect it cannot fail
You know that you’ll end up in jail

I have a plan to steal a car
You know you won’t get very far
The police won’t catch me its fool proof
You know that this is not the truth

I have a scheme to rob a bank
You know his schemes they are third rank
I have a gun to extort the cash
Please pass on this do not be rash

The getaway is plotted to last detail
You know this plan will just derail
Trust me and the plan I bring
If by the neck you want to swing

So good and evil are in my ear 
Which one will win which will I hear
Will evil triumph over good
Will common sense reign as it should?
I’ve told myself DON’T DO IT 

Copyright © Owen Yeates | Year Posted 2013

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Just Doing Time

I have faced death many times
How I escaped its grasp
Simply,  can't be defined
Someday, I know, it'll be my time
But until then, this fragile this life is mine

I know the clock is ticking
It will,  'till I take my last gasp
But for now, I'll just keep on kicking
And take my licking,
While death keeps pricking

Oh Shadow, I see it in your eyes
You want it to be a big surprise
The day you hold me in your clasp
I will see right through your guise 
And find the truth, that hides behind the lies

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014

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Leavit and The Muscrat Gang

Armadilly Billy needed repair work on the home, as he wanted to move in.
Asking around Troll Lake Town, the answer was Leavit, again and again.
A bit confused, he needed repairs; he couldn’t leave it, like they said, therein.
So he picked up the Acme phone book, and understanding, then, did begin.

It said: Levit T. Beaver for the best woodwork, to be found, anywhere around.
The rumor was: he was once a movie star, before retiring to Troll Lake Town.
He had the scruffiest crew, Billy had ever seen, inept in absolutely, everything.
Called: The Muskrat Gang, they were tied up in chains, yes, the whole shebang.

Doing time for trying to blow up Leavit’s dam, yep, a real, live, chain gang, bound.
Tho, they were really chained up, to stop them, from aimlessly scurrying all, around.
He thought to give them purpose, before he was through, and a new profession, too.
After they tried to empty Troll Lake, to scoop out all the fish, on one crazy afternoon.

What they got was better, as Leavit tried to teach them work, with all kinds of wood.
He stopped them, and saved some mice, lost in a boat, on the lake, on that day, too.
Oddly, love blossomed between Leavit and one of the mice, her name was Mary Ann.
He was lucky in love, as the other mice decided, to rent rooms, to stay, on his island.

Though he had to admit that Gilligan, Skipper, and the other mice WERE a tad, strange.
And as for the Muskrat Gang, well, they seemed, to pretty much, stay unchanged.
After serving their time, Levit T. Beaver, offered to hire them, to help him clean up.
All their scurrying, was perfect for this, as he paid them in their most, beloved fish.

With the Chains gone, a job and home found, they discovered crime did not pay.
So my Moral, my friend, is that in the end… Crime is Never the Way!

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

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Ankle Bracelet

My cousin is wearing an ankle bracelet because he got in trouble with the police.
He's always getting himself in trouble, his mischievousness will never cease.
He was given the ankle monitor and placed under house arrest.
Just thinking about his situation is enough to make a person depressed.
Don't be like my cousin, never commit a crime.
Because if you do, you'll end up doing time.

(This is a true story.)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014

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Through strength

I found love

in time I’ll find what I was looking for

I feel like a man at a bar

that has been there for too long

it is going to take a lot

to drag me away from the counter

there is nothing that a thousand men can ever do

I will fight for you

listen to my heart every time you want to run away

I am doing time

taking my mind right back to you

when I hear that whistle blow

it is those wonders

when you listen to meddling rain

let me love you

heart of darkness is brought to the light with your love

I know your troubled heart let me blow your cares away


Copyright © Phatt Matt | Year Posted 2015

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Life in the so called free world

                                      Life in the so called free world

                                  So we live in the free world...really?

                                     Are you free to go out at night
                                        go where ever you like...or
                                        are you afraid, living in fear
                                 hiding behind triple locked doors with
                                        bars on the windows, like a 
                                               prisoner doing time 
                                              until daylight comes?

                                               Who rule the night
                                        are they not the delinquents
                                            and gang members and
                                               gun toting criminals
                                        that have the freedom to kill
                                            and to do as they please.

                                        Land of the free? You decide!

                                        What about freedom from lies
                              that are spread like manure on the ground,
                              and we eat of it's poisonous fruit everyday
                                          and it becomes a part of us
                                               and the cycle repeats.

                                                 What about freedom 
                                            from hate and prejudice? Or
                                                Is it alive and kicking
                                              in your neighbourhoods?

                                             Hate and racism run wild
                                             like the wolf and the lion
                                              seeking to devour their
                                           next innocent young victim
                                           who waits wide eyed like a 
                                               deer in the headlights
                                             waiting for death to come
                                                without even knowing
                                                     what hit them.

                                          What about freedom from fear?
                                        When it is preached in the pulpits
                                        that God is vengeful and tortures
                                             for an eternity in a hellfire.
                                           Does that make sense to you
                                             that a God of love tortures
                                        and torments, when we are made
                                              in his image and torture
                                                 to us is repugnant?

                                        Life in the free world is really free?
                                                       You decide.

John Derek Hamilton
January 17,2016


Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2016

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Hawkins County Sheriff's Report

Hawkins County Sheriff’s Report

Complainant advised that he thought
His girlfriend the thief that he sought
So he set up a trap
Near the couch where he sat
Believing this time she’d be caught

One envelop had dollar bills
One envelop had many pills
When he went to bed
She stayed up instead
In the morning she felt kind of ill

The money and pills were all gone
Then she threw up the pills on the lawn
When he asked for the cash
She said somewhat abashed
It was hidden up under her thong

In his effort to get back his dough
From the place where the sun doesn’t show
With some old kitchen tong
And a brush was too long
He probed but it was a no go

When the sheriff got there he found
Blood flowing freely around
So to the ER
In the back of his car
To free what was so tightly bound

The lady thief was then sedated
The evidence soon confiscated
She was booked for the crime
And is now doing time
The complainant they said was elated

The lesson I’d like to convey
And believe me it’s always this way
If you happen to push
Your loot up your tush
You’ll soon learn why crime doesn’t pay

Uncle Mike															

Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2013

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I remember times when I had no 9 to 5
Drugs just wasn’t my grind
Too many stories of family and homies losing they lives
Not all of them homicides or suicides
But some still gone doing time
Been so long they’re blurred images in my mind
So at that time I promised myself I wouldn’t be that same type
Even though I’m evil and do wrong
For my mom I would still try to live half right
And keep moving on
Hits from the bong help me get along
help me keep my cool
Cause sometimes I wana murder fools for the bull I’ve been through
That’s why I live like I don’t care enough
My anger keeps building up
So before I erupt I take another puff
Cause I keep messing up giving into the DEVIL
U can call me GOD’S REBEL
Even though my hole is dug
GOD still holds the shovel
Cause I haven’t fully given into my sins
Cause if I ever did then my life ends and the DEVIL wins
So I pray at night FATHER FORGIVE ME, AMEN.
Cause I know I won’t do what is always right
That’s why I try to stay right in my mind
And as I go on my grind
I got to say THANK YOU TO MY MOM and to the hard times
Cause without them I swear I should of already died
But I’m still here still down to ride
Just a lot more wise
I no longer mess with the bull-ish
I just focus on my grind
And never quit.

Copyright © brian miller jr | Year Posted 2013

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From A Hell Doing Time

As I read each word on every line,
that he wrote from a hell doing time,
my heart hurt so deep inside,
how many tears has this mother cried...

He talked about how he hurt those he loved,
and all those days I didn't know where he was,
I could tell the tears were falling from his eyes,
he said mother, I'm done with all my lies....

Then he told me he was ashamed of his past,
and did I think we could ever move on,
I assured him with all my heart, and soul,
a mother can't rest until her child is home.

Then he said something that made me smile,
as he talked about how things were inside,
so many in here don't have a friend,
I have my Bible, that's how I have survived.

Then I knew my son would be just fine,
now he knew with all his heart, and soul,
his Savior saved him, and gave him comfort from within,
that goes to show, Jesus follows us wherever we go.

Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2009

Details | Doing Time Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Destruction - Reconstruction

I would like to share the destruction of my life
How I sold all my dreams to a world of pain and strife
I hope some youngster reads it and can clearly see
That to walk down that path is no place to be
I believe it all started the day I watched my mother die
Devil crawled inside my mind and said, “Gods the reason why”
It made it easy for him to attract me to the high
To convince me that I was owed my slice of the pie
I fell into a way of life or so it would seem
By the age of fifteen I was cultivating green
At the age of sixteen I had quite a need
It was at that age I started slamming speed
There I was a junkie trapped in a boy’s shell
With no understanding my life had gone to hell
At the age of eighteen I wanted to live fatter
So I took a giant leap up the homeboy ladder
I got a girl in collage to get a professor hooked
He taught chemistry and he taught me to cook
At the age of eighteen I had reached my goal
Never even thinking I had destroyed my soul
I learned to live with the fear that I would get busted
And how to deal with people who could not be trusted
In my early twenties I started doing time
Like the song by Johnny Cash I learned to walk the line
Time is like a waterfall that forever pours
It just simply never ends there always is some more
As I watched it come and go time and time again
I realized that I was at home caged in a pen
I looked in the mirror and studied the lines in my face
And actually even said out loud "worlds a better place"
I had just stabbed a man left him on the floor
I honestly have no idea what it was all for
When it comes to regrets I have more than most
I not only have my skeletons I also have my ghost
Youngsters if you read this please help spread the news
Life is both good and bad it's up to you to choose
Can you see the miracle that is written in this rhyme?
The Lord will save any soul even one like mine

I reposted this poem to enter
the where I come from contest

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2008