Writings

     Poems   Messages

     that our friends in prison like to share with us!

DISCLAIMER:

I will not be held responsible for the contents of all these writings & poems.
I offer the prisoners the opportunity to express themselves. I can only
hope that people recognize the value of what I am doing. Since the system does
not want violence in their prisons, these prisoners need other means to vent
frustration, hope, anger and all other kind of emotions. Therefore I give
them an opportunity for self-expression in a harmless manner!         

By Mark Mancebo

Resistance

Resistance is my disease
Though you may think I do as I please
I am enslaved by the urge to resist
Teeth clenched, hands balled into fists

Good or Bad
This desease not discerned
Survival of betrayal and abuse
Resistance a lesson well learned

Fear or Paranoia
I could not tell
Second guessed natives
Wrapped as resistances protective shell

Love or Hate
Emotions best kept guard
Mind over matters
The resistant heart grows cold and hard

Resistance is my disease
Though you may think I do as I please
I am enslaved by the urge to resist
My soul crushed, eyes that mist ...

With the passage of time
I have matured and grown smart
I have lived and I have loved
Yet emptiness has returned to rule my heart

Like spring rejuvenates the earth
As the death of winter loses control
Your voices touch has breathed live
Into the corps of my soul

And with the light of an angel
You came and swept the darkness away
But like a mirage of an oasis
I fear you’ll not stay

No price measures true love
For destiny can’t be bought or sold
Take my hand into eternity
Let nothing come between us

Or break our hold ...

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By Shawn Dittman

Blood on the Scare Crow

Threatening rain, sun never appears
Awake from a dreams distant memory
Gathering winds blowing, swaying trees,
Branches scratching the window pain
Lightning flashed across blood soaked skies
The carnage this land could tell
Images of ghosts hidden in the mist
Something dark and huddled, lurking eyes
Watching the blood flow down through time
Like sax of the dead, the crows flew up
A rose from the field in the distant sky
Almost deadly the wind made him alive
In the trees the crows cried a warning
Cawing out against the gloomy land
Screaming crows as black as night
Flying away pulled towards the falling rain
Sinister the face of the scare crow
Crucified on the cross of death
Blood soaked skies begin to rain
Spilling sax for him to claim

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By Scott Kruse

The universe is Heyoka

The smallest of organisms and the whole of a killer whale
The hot, yet the cold, as the solar winds sail
A presence that lies in the darkness of night
And still a gift of love travels on the brightest of star light
When the coldest winter freeze transforms
Becoming warm spring breeze
He is these within it all
she is there, you hear her call
The beginning is the end
Yet the end has no beginning
The creator has created me
Contrary
In the likes of the great mystery

Know your enemy

Deep sleep, as a spirit approaches my bed,
flows through my veins, examines my head,
As this spirit knows well, my good and my bad.
Why any heart's happy,
Why any heart's sad.
It brings me a dream,
Through the forest we walk,
This spirit and I, we walk and we talk.
"Where are we going, and why are you here?" ask I,
"We go to a place to show you your fear" answers she,
I walk as a man- fear? I fear none! say I,
"And I've seen many men; of whom you fear one
next to to the water" this spirit she states,
"this man knows your deepest sorrows and hates,
now see your TRUE enemy!" and she points to a place
where the still moon-lit waters
reveal
MY face..........

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By Philip "Moose" Spargur

Hardships of Depression

Extreme dreams of revenge,
the law has left me with empty dreams,
to be someone, to dwell upon troublesome
hardship of depression, now I suffer
in lunacy, the law imprisoned me,
yet the law can't away my freedom,
in this iron lodge the law imprisons me with empty dreams
of being someone to dwell upon
troublesome hardship of depression
nothing becoming of your dreams
only extreme dreams for revenge
the pigs left me within imprisonment
to plot vengeance of lunacy

 Realities of the prison yard

The prison yards, rocking and rolling,
American Indians rules !
Many prisoners are dropping to the ground
The War Cry has come from within the yard
towers

Like the fury of the screaming eagle
American Indians are thrashing and crashing
to the War Cry
American Indians Warriors fighting, sticking,
stabbing
The mortal combat has begun between warrior
and man
The guards firing bullets, bullets are flying
The guards order the battlefield down
American Indians and bodies are everywhere
The ripping sounds of gun fire fills the air
The mortal combat has begun

American Indians now labeled by guards as mortal
combatants
American Indians Warriors refusing the guards
orders
Only to obey our War Chiefs and War Parties
Who need the deed of a good friend !

Prisoners are bleeding, bodies are dying, this is
the realities of the prison yards through American
Indians eyes
The war they say has been over only really has begun
for the new
What is unfinished will be finished later on
The War Chiefs and War Parties orders are clear, to
fight for blood, honor, and dignity or die from our
enemies
That lay in await on these prison yards
Shouts of insanity fills the air
All this is the real realities of the Prison Yards.

In the meantime Philip is released!

By Eric Gomez

Flying Free

By day I'm a prisoner, locked away in time,
caged here like an animal, repenting for my crime.
But when the sun has ran it's course, and day turns into night,
I close my eyes and drift away, as my spirit takes to flight.

It soars across the mountain tops, and valleys far and wide,
so bold and undefeated, like an eagle as it glides,
free from chains and shackles, and the boundaries of mankind,
free to soar with other souls, in a non existing time.

My hands are bound by all mankind, and have been since birth,
while the eagle from within my heart flies free with Mother Earth.

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By Timothy J. Muise

My Prison Day

You wake to stale air pumped through misery,
uncontrollable light squinting angrily.
Banging on doors means they'll allow you to eat,
on your path groped from temple to feet.
Comments, glares, their visions of grandeur,
volcanos lava bolis, if they only knew the danger.
Trying to spark the populas to react to abuse,
hold on to your sanity, grip getting loose.
The thought of the world left behind with a tear,
savoring the memories of that I hold dear.
NO! They won't beat me or keep this man down,
deep from within strength worn as my crown.
The sun surely shines toward the day of a new life,
seize that new day and behind leave this strife.

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 By Augie Raven Valenzuela

Wind Dancer

Feather finger spread wide,
Dancing in step with the wind.
I close my eyes,
A song escapes my lips.
Beauty surrounds me.
Peace befalls me.
I know what joy is…
My spirit shines
Bright as the morning,
Lightning the heavens,
Touching the earth.
Softly I dance.
Softly I sing.
Rain…touches my face.

Thunders’ Road

I follow the road,
That leads to thunder.
Between the earth and the sky.
The winds carry my prayers,
The lightning I ride.
Sacred is this road I follow,
Thru the crooked sky.
I dance the dream at twilight
Upon the moon and stars.
Beautiful is my spirit,
A house made of dawn.
As I greet the sunrise,
Rain…begins to fall.

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 By Arthur Thompson

Government Mule

Enter at first light;
no thought save survival,
indoctrination formation
growth ad nauseam

Enter the troop;
continuous starvation
In the land of plenty,
as rhetoric not knowledge
are food for thought.

Enter the jungle;
inimical rivalry
where the only law
is a death sentence
carried out with frustrating certainty

Enter the void;
end of the old
and into the new,
another dimension and still the same load?

Boxed

Ideas confined to wispy cognizance,
slowly shrinking thoughts.
Minds limited to narrow perception,
another pigeonhole framed.

No strength of will,
only shrinking resistance.
Defining domain with 4 walls,
another real outlined.

Fear rules weakened spirits,
ever shrinking lives.
Bars on windows, triple locked doors,
another prison built.

Live to work, work to live,
quickly shrinking existence.
Remarkable vocation, no,
another abide occupied.

Want, desire, need to control.
Vulnerable future; no jubilation
just a box secured.

Creation... Contraction... Termination.

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By Eric Stokes

Alabaster dream scapes

Alabaster dream scapes, go drifting trough my mind,
floating on Gossmar wingtips, searching for a love to find.
Yesterdays sunset melting in the past,
taking me to something more, something meant to last.
Breathless in my passion, for love to call my own.
Never feeling emptiness, no more to be alone.
Lost inside a sea of love, I see within your eyes,
sailing on the winds of time, as Angels sing of sirens cries.
The love we have between us, is more than those before,
a perfect sense of harmony, to feel love, for ever more…

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By Joel Ridley

Justifiable kill

You can hear my war cry’s through my Red tears
I’m a persistent warrior living in these dead years
You can see this victim of assimilation shed fears

I stay true to my people with every breath that I breathe
I give cue to my people that can’t come to believe
I deliver rest to my people that can’t come to believe
Bringin’ realization that I’ve been Native from the start
Native in my bones, Native in my Blood and native in my heart
I represent Red Skin and this Red Nation till the day that I part….

Because I do my best to follow that Red Road… Red Red Road

I manage to breath thoughts on paper that people can feel
My words pierce a heart like cold bullet from hot steel
Catchin’ attention with untold knowledge is a justifiable kill

It appears to me that you people only know how to take
Tieing tubs, signing treaties, breaking rules and then you ask
for a hand shake….
Only by a controlled action is my peoples Blood line at stake

Front Street

My Thug poetry can be felt about 90% of the time my pen or
pencil hits the paper,
I don’t want you to jock my words but I also don’t want you
to be a hater,
I only relieve my thoughts in hopes that it might shed light,
I only spit real stuff that’s for you to determine whether
it’s wrong or right,
It’s in my bones and Blood to riddle these words that make sense,
Through my eyes you can see my peoples pain even though it’s
past tense.
The other 10% you can’t feel,
It’s tattooed on me… yes it’s real
THUG… The Hate U Gave,
Is branded in the heart of this young Brave,
I come from a Nation that’s drug and alcohol infested,
Where crack roams and ecstasy can leave you molested,
I caught the late end of the school of the hard knocks,
Always learning stuff the hard way… that’s why I’m sitting
in this box,
Half way absorbed and half way assimilated but this Tribal stuff
is fully Bone deep,
I’m proud of my Native Blood Line and have no problems putting
the on front street,
I know what I know and I don’t pretend otherwise,
I was born with a golden heart that you can see shining through
these eyes.

Caught in the eyes of you

I’m about to give a lyrical view of my eyes
Pleads of insanity caused by drugs rejected by wise guys
Mental slavery branded in the cells of my brain
Desolation and double standards scar the deepest stain
I express what I see and you can feel what I express
Solid words fill hollow thoughts and bring air to an empty chest
I’m not going to switch up… I’m going to keep it pushing like I
always do
You don’t know it but reflections of my Indian heritage are caught
in the eyes of you
Doing my part in this weaved web of life
Holding up even though I’m taking slashes from that political knife
It’s not easy persisting the walk of my creed
So many distractions… drugs, money, guns and greed
My people brought me up making sure that I stand firm and walk strong
I cherish my one life, one walk and one breath because it’s only
mine for so long.

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By Chris Yellow Eagle

Midnight Whispers

Midnight whispers of a love
of days and nights gone by
It whispers of a broken trust
to let go of the past

It whispers of a time alone
with no one by your side
whispers from within your mind
it leaves no place to hide

Midnight whispers of a fading past
of memories you can't hold
It whispers only to look forward

Friendly whispers of a day to come
a night that full of love
whispers of a friendly smile
a trust from up above

Midnight whispers of a time
when you won't be alone
I'm whispering there's no need to hide
because soon I will be home

It whispers a new start
of your love filled eyes
whispers of a forgotten past.

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By Danny Dotson

Love is….

Love is often though of,
as a special form of caring.
That holds two lives together,
in companionship and sharing.
It’s a gentle understanding,
one so very seldom finds…
A union of two hearts,
a meeting of two minds.
It’s a cherished gift form heaven,
Every heart is dreaming of.
It’s the worlds most priceless feeling…

This is love.

When I look into your eyes….

When I look into your eyes,
the world seems to stop for me.
I see visions of hope and love,
and shared memories.

When I look into your eyes,
I see thoughts of family and dreams.
Mirrored around two souls,
built on faith and honesty.

When I look into your eyes,
I see pleasure in spite of pain.
With nothing there left to hide,
all regret and shame seem to fade.

When I look into your eyes,
I see a realism bound by truth.
But most of all,
when I look into your eyes,
I see me…
in love with you.

The Greatest Place I Know

The greatest place I know,
Is a place so soft and sweet.
When all the world seems so cold,
It’s a place where I can return….

The greatest place I know,
Is a place where time stands still.
With the numbness of everyday struggle,
It’s a place where I can feel….

The greatest place I know,
Is a place just to be me.
With passion, pain, tears and joy,
It’s a place where I can be free….

The greatest place I know,
Is a place filled with hopes and dreams.
Escaping the reality of illusion,
Where things are not as they seem….

I’ve searched the whole world over….
Until I realized it wasn’t that far,
Cause the greatest place I know,
Is right there in your arms

Grandfather

Grandfather sings, I dance.
Grandfather speaks, I listen.
When I sing, who will dance?
When I speak, who will listen?

Grandfather hunts, and I learn.
Grandfather fishes, and I clean.
Yet when I hunt, who will learn?
When I fish, who will clean?

Grandfather dies, and I weep.
Grandfather is buried, and I am left alone.
When I die, who will weep?
When I am buried, who will be left alone?
 

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By Norman Wasson

My Love

She is my love, I hold her with passion,
I watch her from above, I hold her captive,
My pride & emotion to her I gave,
My commitment & dedication pour out,
Because I am her slave.

Our motions an expression of joy and pain,
It’s a million holes ripped through open flesh,
Aagain, and again, and again.
She fills it up with our own bit of colour.

For me, there can’t be another,
Together we make it through the blood,
To hold her in my hand is to know love.
I love my tattoo gun.

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By Joseph Ware

Darkness and loneliness fill my cell
With pain and fear too great to yell.

I wait for the mailman to deliver to me
As I wipe away tears that no one will see.

I pray so sincere with head raised above
Please someone please soon send a letter of love.

I long to gaze upon pages so dear
With riches to bring someone to love near.

Words of diamonds on pages of gold
A message from heaven as their story is told.

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