As we move into the Winter season, the North Wind, i realize i am about halfway through my time in prison. This is a rather inspiring notion, as the time is passing swiftly. I have been quite blessed throughout this time, in terms of support and circumstance, in more ways than i know. This has been an incredible learning experience for me, albeit often to my detriment. i am often reminded of the Johnny Cash line, about prison making him "a wiser, weaker man." And then there is the Italian love song which states "the flower of youth dies in prison." There is much truth to this. And the prison does not end at the walls of these facilities.
Alas, i have a few requests. First i want to extend my thanks to all the love i've recieved in the form of books and reading material over the years, and in terms of commissary funds, letters, etc. My hope is that, at this halfway point, i'll be able to purchase a new pair of shoes ($70), some new underwear (about $10 for three pairs), and a new MP3 [mine has recently begun malfunctioning... ($88.40)]. Music (of my choosing) makes such a huge difference throughout the day... These are all purchases that will last me the rest of my bid. So, i feel they are worthwile investments. Please, if you can donate any money, i will be immensely grateful. Such concrete things make all the difference in my life at this point, like the difference between having coffee and going without. Prison is miserable, but these things allow us some semblance of serenity.
And if you send me any letters with return addresses, i will respond! Please be patient. i know a few folks have been waiting for some time now...
i will also be doing more writing for the interwebs soon, and if folks want me to write poems specifically crafted to them, just get in touch.
Much love, With a gentle strength from a hard place,
we bury dead gods in unknown soil grated against the jagged rocks of sidewalks pierced by the lying light shooting off metal ants swell around soda cans and intersections adrift in the police line-ups of the public busses yearning for the touch of your breath of smoke through the snow dripping sticky down the staircases and alleys coagulating blood lacking ground to stand upon or grass to lay in The stomach turns to cement in the onslaught of broken bottles, elevators gunshots and dog barks, butts the dying loved ones and the trhiving fools, that great inert mass of cold indifference: The City.
I'm wanting to update everyone on my situation here in United States Penitentiary - Terre Haute, in Terre Hate, Indiana.
I'm in S.H.U. (Special Housing Unit) AKA "The Hole", again. I'll probably be in here a while, too. USP Terre Haute has a MAJOR problem discriminating against the Muslim population. they just beat up one of my muslim brothers back here in SHU on 9-25. when I came in SHU they gave me a mattress that's only about 1/4 of a mattress thick. Just a small piece of foam. My back is killing me from it, too. I came in SHU Sunday September 20th. The program statement for the mattress is 5270.10 ss 541.31 part "d". If anyone can make it happen, I need a "Noble Quran" (might be spelled Koran). No other Quran.
I also need a massive call-in campaign to target the administration here and BOP central office in Washington D.C. about the discrimination of Muslim inmates and us being given mattresses that don't stand up to BOP policy. I'm going to give the mattress situation until next Friday (October 9th) then I'll begin a hunger strike and will NOT end it until I get a transfer to where I want to go. I have the BOP program statement on hunger strikes. Program statement #5562.05.
Also, they have me and my cellie on a disciplinary segregation range, but neither of us have an incident report and they're keeping my cellie (who has asthma) from posessing his inhalers.
If anyone would like to write me the address here is:
Any Donations from October 16, 2015 to December 10th will be put into a 'Holiday Gift' fund for the Cleveland4. Right now Connor and Doug will need warm clothes to keep warm through the cold months. You can also donate to them directly!
Remember the dead - Solidarity for the living by Brandon Baxter.
Every day we spend in these cages is a day of our lives we will never get back. They are limited in the same way that there are only so many fingers on our hands; limbs on our bodies.
All the cherished memories we will never have.
All the moments we won’t have to hold onto.
Each day, a piece of our lives, torn from us, like cutting off our fingers, one knuckle at a time.
The police once killed with impunity. Today they answer to the mob, The People’s Justice.
But the sad reality is that if Michael Brown were arrested and given a life sentence Ferguson would have never burned. He would have been mutilated, one day at a time. No one would have known his name, not even when he died in prison.
As of writing, the oppressed riot in Baltimore over the death of Freddie Gray at the hands of the police. The Left will, as always, attempt to recuperate this momentum. Indeed, I have read articles by these liberals defending looting as a legitimate form of protest.
…of protest…Is that all this is? Demanding reform; police accountability? Is this a problem to be solved by taxing the People hundreds of millions of dollars to put a body camera on every cop on the beat?
That’s the narrative we’re up against. And if the mob isn’t challenged to make a deeper analysis of the web of oppression it’s beginning to fight against, that is the reality we will face: more cops and an even more omnipresent surveillance state.
If Freddie Gray hadn’t died but were sitting in a holding tank, would there be any less reason for what’s taking place in Baltimore today?
We must remember the dead. But the living are dying.
Let’s try being a little less reactionary (it makes us predictable, taking away the advantages of spontaneity).
Let us channel this righteous fury into concise decisive strategy in our fight for the living.