Gracile
thin cold air dances where Madiba sits on the jail floor and hope smiles through broken glass
It’s so good to be back in jail again
Do’in time with all of my friends
Figurin’ out ways we can escape
And while we’re out, committing rape
He boldly admits it publicly.
Wry humour is his weapon of choice.
Comedian ushered directly to jail.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
left little room
for ambiguity
There are wrinkles
in the core
Here
and cardinals
sing along with white-
throated sparrows
in various cadences
above my head
while I write lesson plans
on a glass table
about meiosis
for tomorrow
(bad jokes
included)
“Mom says
I can’t do
meiosis
until I finish
my interphase”
She was younger
than me and brimming
with possibility
a decent job
friends to meet,
appointments,
and azaleas turning scarlet
I try to live a life
of clean example
Somehow I ended up
with the remnants
of mistakes
and forgotten dreams
Maybe I will meet
Picasso in the next heaven
where I am a cube
of his former love-life,
strumming a guitar
in cubism
compare
painted brushes
and humbler
fantasies
and possibly
create a new
genre
I am a jail man
An independent, full of freedom, crashed
There is no life. The natural. Just blackmail
Snow White's packed science destroys life
Snow white psychology’s ash, gives dark
Kills sun, Kills God. Hope dead, no faith. Die
Where is life? It’s exiled. Rulers, devil minds
Oh, humanity! Why do you block your life?
Why are you putting limits on my life? Why?!
I don’t accept any of these degenerations
No, never, all of them artificial dead science
Programming souls? Psychologist cheetahs!
Spiritual Tarzans! Earth, planet of the apes!
Hmm, psychology, deleted ancient wisdom
Hmm, today is a sin to read the father’s words
Psychological steel cage, my life is unnatural
I met with Adam. He asked, did you see Eve?
No, you can’t find her! Even Satan trembles
There is no longer a living natural soul here
This is a jail, a mentally limited, regulated world
Psychology, psychology! Innovation of death
Mental prison, unconsciousness, laughing death
People feel for independence
Switched off minds
My contemplation recognizes
My jail in this life
Jailbirds
Wards of the state
Who isn’t irate at the system
And does what they have to do
If they can?
Each
Us all
Enslaved
To luck
I am leashed with mittens to my dog
Whom I walk retired in the winter
Park
The young men have chainsaws
Shackled to their bare hands
Cutting back the bush
Elvis sings Blue Christmas to my ears
They
Have the bitter wind
Breaking the tiniest of sticks
Any of us could run free
Fleeting
As it would be
So we obey
Hoping the best for one another
That kind of defiance
That kind of wave
Whatever it takes to survive
Passing by
On Christmas Eve.
You once shaded lovers and sparrows.
your branches combed the morning mist-
a cathedral of green where children sang,
and the sun broke bread with your leaves,
O patient giant,with roots like prayer,
you watched seasons kneel before you.
The rain leaned close to whisper secrets,
the moon hung her lamp from your crown.
But two fools came with saws and laughter-
their hands empty of reverence or song.
They did not hear the sap cry out,
nor the small bird scream from its broken home.
O murderers of shade and silence,
what did you gain from such noise?
The world grew smaller when you fell,
and even the wind forgot its music.
Though Sorrow May Sleep,Justice Wakes
O child,don't hang your head,never bow in shame,
Your tears are rivers angels swims through deep,
He took your piece but Heaven knows his name-
No crimes of his can't in God's silence sleep.
Duck low,my soul,through ashes, sing your pain,
The Lord hears through church bells crack fade,
No evil seedling can flourish in that rain-
No sin can hide underneath cross he made.
So walk and walk through dark and broken lands,
The good will fly you when your faith grows small;
Their hearts are lamps lit by love's hands,
Their arms the choir that catches those who fall.
Rise,daughter,-rise,and clap your ways ways anew,
The storm is fierce,but God still walks with you.
my body is a jail
confining me to aches and pains
I am spirit
wanting to fly
remembering my past
The sun mounts over crumpled roofs and streets,
Beats from machetes and trombones disconcerts the air,
Brides and husbands-to-be bosa nova where joy and gossip meet.
Little ones run run past stalls,their joy sharp as knives,
Grandmas share gossip,drinking Joko Tea in chirped mugs.
While dear uncles sway,remembering old wasted lives
Smog billows from grills where meat roasts and fry,
Fires burn,mixing ululations and cheer,
Even the emaciated township dog pauses,ears to the sky.
Hubands-to-be jive,hats tilted,praising feats of might;
Ladies-in waiting in skirts that sparkle under sun.
Every furtive glance a nod and a story of delight.
As night comes,lanterns flicker in houses and alleys;
Music is tender,hearts stay buoyed and awake-
In hoboland love and joy endure amidst the pain.
The night got no mercy,
but I keep singing anyway.
They say freedom came,
but it walks barefoot,
bleeding on the glass of old promises
Still I smell rain-
you know that smell,comrade-
the one that comes after the dust
and says,''Not all is lost''
My baby hums freedom like a hymn,
her voice cracked like dry land waiting for mercy
We done marched,we done prayed,
and lord,we done been betrayed-
but the blues keep the bones alive.
I say,
Freedom smells like rain after dust-
a bitter-sweet perfume of survival.
And even if it never pours again,
we'll dance like thunder
On the edge of the drought
Glass Half Shattered
I find my thoughts are often quite destructive or productive
I try to turn the former into something more constructive
My name will live in infamy forever and a day
The loss of independence is the price I have to pay
I dream that putting pen to paper, publishing my woes
Can deter some other creep from traveling down the path I chose
I see these kindred spirits making headlines all the time
Using words like "sick and twisted" may be fair but they malign
All us who decided to be cruel and turn to violence
Linger long in jail or death and do our suffering in silence
But isn't that the way we did our suffering before?
And that just led to bodies bled and senseless acts of gore
The voices of experience in these deeds so macabre
Must speak out against indifference (consider that our job)
We have a second chance to leave a legacy of good
Cause I know I'd take it back if only there's some way I could
Try to piece together and repair half shattered glass
So there won't be any need to fly our flags at demi-mast
You're ever at my beck and call –
Perfection reflected from my mirror.
On a sail ~
A voyage that carries off my challenges.
All my sorrows and sadness ~
Locked away in your jail,
The yashmak of my despairs and desperation,
Along with all my worries and wailing.
Yet eye-service lurks beneath the veil.
'Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! all stand,'
said the bailiff before remand,
as legal eagles had looked for loopholes,
flaws in the law,
large enough to lose a lorry,
is that what they became lawyers for?
If I had taken their advice,
blindly handed out to me,
I'd have gone directly to jail,
if not in a trice.
Attorneys, barristers, solicitors,
ambulance chasers,
searching for victims
so they may litigate,
seen one you've seen them all,
what's not to hate?
The game of life is fkd we supposed to value money so people get it by any means
then its from the cops we runnin and people doing life for sellin green to the ones who tryna escape by gettin high, they known as fiends...
an now they both behind that barbed wye and cut like seams
and in that cell its people who got more hooks than Kareem
but only thing they lookin forward to is money on they books and if you dont got a fam then even in jail you scheme
when you get out you need a money plan so its right back to sellin beans...
3 strikes its life you land all cause you were tryna build support for your fam like a crib with the beams
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