Who can detain me?
Unless I allow myself?
It's all right in here...
Break Free (original).
I decline to be bathed in abject defeat, I intend to break free.
My endeavour isn’t dead, intellect serves as a panacea for me
My muse and I must find impassioned advocacy to meet.
I intend to break free, I decline to be bathed in abject defeat.
The solution I submit, it will be extraordinary and unconventional.
A dramatic escape from all restrictions unintentional.
Break Free Opposing.
I adore to be bathed in glorious acclaim, I intend to indulge.
I feel so securely alive, my brain can’t divulge.
My muse and I cannot agree and will only cause deceit.
I intend to remain, I am going to accept hideous conceit.
There’s no solution, it will be mundane and true to convention.
A sorrowful surrender to all chains and detention.
For once this is a poem that really happened to me a long time ago.
______________________________________
Sometimes I recall some deed of the past,
Why, that day I was really aghast.
I felt angry and humiliated
Decision taken made me frustrated.
I was just fifteen or so at that time,
A teacher considered mine a crime.
I was guilty, and easily distracted.
Outside I saw fireworks that attracted.
My teacher suffered from persecution,
He was strict, distracted no solution.
I was sent out of class, got reported,
Detention and conduct so distorted.
So there I was all alone in a class,
Punished by a maniac, harsh and crass.
I did not flinch but mutely bore it all.
Never went to his class despite his call.
Time passed all was forgiven, I was kind,
Thanked the lord my father was never fined.
in school halls the length of the land
after the final bell, by the thousand
taken by some strict schoolmaster
who is determined they will go faster
the perfect poem is being created
but teachers are obviously not elated
because these poems are a punishment
a system designed as a detriment
to pupils who would have otherwise
fooled and played up in disguise
time is what is taken from them
in the form of after hours detention.
these perfect poems in the form of lines
written out (usually) one hundred times
or as many times possible in the space
of sixty minutes that they must face
lines normally befitting the offence
where total denial was the stock defence
lines guaranteed to make arms ache
eyelids heavy but must..stay..awake
line upon line upon line the same
till only a few more blanks remain
“I must not, will not, can not too”
lines upon a page that rhyme true.
23.4.2011
20 minutes
that is 120 weeks in prison
2 years, 3 months, 2 weeks and
20 minutes to get locked up
20 minutes to fingerprint you
20 minutes to process you
120 weeks in prison is
2 years, 3 months, 2 weeks
and 20 minutes.
20 minutes was longer than it took to get lost
120 weeks
42 days before court gave me
120 weeks - 6 weeks in the hole before trial.
6 weeks in the hole with 3 minute shower timer
week four got me in the deeper hole
I met my 10th grade teacher in the hole
23/1 is no joke. turning 10th grade was prison.
I was 790 weeks old.
15% of my life at age 15 was put in the whole. thats more than half a quarter of my life that was decided because I rubbed a child.
that 120 weeks was not fun, but I was the queerest girl in moolock lodge. I got raped, I almost got sent to a group home. all in 120 weeks - the 6 weeks
lets do some more solitary - add the last 5 weeks, add 15 weeks lets call it 20 weeks so
26 weeks doing 23+1 solitary punishment
is almost 6 months
in solitairy confinement
what was your first detention experience?
In my country, gangs of fiends own the night.
In my country, we lived broken lives of torment.
My family fled with little but our naked terror.
Bleeding and blistered, our feet carried us hundreds of miles.
But I always had my familia.
We migrated in trucks, never sure
we could trust coyotes.
We roamed scorching desert, never
sure we would find food or water.
Sometimes we waited until nightfall, hidden from view.
We were nocturnal prey on winding dirt roads,
never sure if we would be killed.
But I always had my familia.
Our bellies choking from hunger,
our desolate depletion, the final forces
delivering us to the border.
So distant my country, so remote in this
unearthly place where we were captured by
armed strangers, where we were divided by
strangers.
Today, I no longer have my familia.
This day is glass shattering and the shards
cut me open like a skinned rat.
Today I am that bawling baby paralyzed
by panic.
Today I am that shrieking child trembling
in terror.
Today I am that adolescent crowded
in a cage.
Today I am that tortured toddler
crying himself to sleep.
Published: Dissident Voice 11/8/20
Chanting for the jewel in the heart of the heart of the lotus
Ohm mani padme hum
I bite the invisible neon green
cast off
which protects my broken wrist
flushing bits down the mirror or
chrome toilet of the tomorrow
It has stopped suddenly
this day has no meaning when idly tearing away
the chips of broken plaster from my arm
they are unlike the cement walls
surrounding me in the cubicle of solitary days
A new home, vacated by the oldest delinquent
who stayed far past my time
with hair falling out with calm disregard
for the age we all feel our time has skipped
pretending to have cancer
is one excuse
Kswiss kills Sp!cs and Crips
and nobody
this skinned head preaches too
no choir boys
shaved and disengaged
I have no chemo clues
its time to dance
to play to laugh
I cant remember you
for once you were
my friend in school
that boy with cancer
beating it but
losing sight
I see no fear
in truth it's not your plight
The perverse acceptance of dehumanization
coincides with the illusion of vulnerability
Degradation underlies the prolonged process
systematically re-wiring a once skeptical public
Manufacturing receptiveness to a diminished existence
is the prevailing goal
The need for coercion dissipates as resistance vanishes
Turning imprisonment into an implied circumstance
No therapist wanted to do any kind of counseling for B School, which to my home is quite near.
I was frankly bewildered that three of my friends, Susan, Tad, and Sun had told me they would never come back here.
B school looked lovely; the grounds were impeccably beautiful - flowers, wind spinners, and fountains with water ever so clear.
The reception area was colorful, welcoming, pretty even, a tribute to whoever designed it so dear.
I wondered why everyone I had spoken to who had been here hated it so, it was totally unclear.
The dean of students was lovely, smart, engaging, a good listener; a woman who seemed totally dear.
"I would like Tricia Tee take you around, "Dean told me, "So you can see what a ship-shape school we run here.
We had no sooner got to the first locker when a child started to walk past, and I yelled,"Mere!"
My former student looked up, scared, frightened, mesmerized, unable to move, hypnotized by fear.
"That's a demerit for you, Mrs. K, and a demerit for Mere," Tricia said snippily, writing it down in a notebook she had near.
Um...
I think I get it now.
This place is no haven,
hated and feared
for the isolations found here.
Those caught outside
find it a gulf too harsh
and unable to cope
... peer hopelessly in
from behind the wide wall.
Celebrate escape
with a hundred
floaty balloons.
Shapes of my choice
in a multitude of colours!
But ask for the largest cylinder
... aah, who doesn’t love
the donald duck squall.
And $70 extra
to be clown for the day
in a costume you wouldn’t
be caught dead in.
Now there’s a thought
(laughing))))
... bond loss not an issue
if you’re not there for the call.
Songs of loves unrequited.
Loves unnoticed.
Loves lost and
forgotten by most.
Songs from long ago
and far away now playing
... on radio station WTFuk
soundtrack to a life made small.
But where is the haven?
There’s no escaping
the pain and the fear.
So option of choice -
return to sea
aboard the ‘Green Vet Dream’
... cancer’s a country
that makes boat people of us all.
take my pure sweet senses into---------Love
ecstasy before my soul completely---- Defies
dries up and withers in infinity-------------Prisons
taking me to the end road ----------------Thereof
creeping out of my spirit of love---------Cry’s
for you my darling resonate all----------Reasons