Picture an existence w/o feminine affection
No hugs, kisses. I love yous or womanly words of wisdom
No touches, caresses, backrubs, or slippery ish to slip in
No break ups to make up, war of wits, or loving life lessons
No innuendos, provocation, or flirty disposition
No stress relief, peck on cheeks, or late night confessions.
No love bites, play fights, or friendly competition
No other half, sharing a bath just a half whole existence.
January 23, 2012
How are you doing? Hopefully you are mentally and physically at your best when my letter reaches you. Anyways, I came across a publication of the services you provide, and was interested in having my voice heard. So I am giving you control/permission to publish the poem I have enclosed in this letter.
After a seventeen and one-half hour bus drive from Chino, California to Represa California, the-Grey-goose-a term that convicts dubbed for the transportation when traveling from the reception center to your final destination. Suddenly there was a grave-yard at the foot of this winding road leading to the infamous Old Folsom one of the deadliest prisons in California. As we sputtered up this road a big structure loomed ahead of us. Picture in your mind a twenty-four year old inexperienced young guy playing like there’s nothing to worry about. know, I was scared to death! Mind you, I’m innocent! Anyway, the gigantic thirty foot doors slowly crept open. I’d heard many things about Folsom but to actually be there and spend a lot of time there until I capture my freedom was not in my plans. The Grey-goose slowly entered the pale structure. As I looked at this monstrosity it looked as if someone took some dynamite and blasted a deep pit and stared building. We sat their [sic] waiting to be received. Freddie Jackson’s Rock With Me Tonight was playing, but no one was rockin.
Finally, we were taken to this area over-looking the yard people were milling about. Suddenly, the yard when down everyone sat down. I strained to see what was going on my heart was pounding my neck was on a swivel and then I saw correctional officers running with a gurney and as I strained to see the person on the gurney was laying side-ways with what appeared to be a pole thrust through his body. That scared me terribly! I didn’t know what to think. I sat down looking at nothing seeing nothing. Just as quickly a loud speaker announced-resume program-. Now I know what those words meant, but they had to be a mistake. Being placed about the track I yelled down at someone asking them what those words meant. At that moment people were walking around like nothing happened. I’d just seen a pole rammed through this persons body and the administration just announced, resume program.
I got there on a Wednesday and all through the week people were getting stuck with knives. The following Wednesday another person was killed. From the very first day I knew I was going to keep my nose reeled to my face!
Prison life, then, was a treacherous and violent to the point were eventually a person becomes complacent in that environment. There’s been many wars fought along racial lines. Mexicans and Blacks Whites and Blacks. The cycle of violence never ended.
This is just a taste of what I went through. Until next time
When someone asks me, “what happened?”
Their like, “you know, with that or this.”
I say “oh, I didn’t tell you?
Because, it’s none of your business”!
Want to know how to find out if someone’s real?
I’ve got a suggestion, that’s quite ideal.
It’s a plan to be signed, stamped, and sealed.
To set yourself straight, through this whole ordeal.
When asked to do a solid for a supposed friend.
You come to find out, he stabs you in the back in the end.
Because, no matter what, everytime.
He’s the first, to drop a dime.
Ones true colors, come shining through.
Still you remain, as always, old school.
Facing the consiquences, like a real man.
And come to truly understand.
That you alone, were caught commiting the crime.
And you alone, shall serve the time.
Don’t take someone else down with you.
And remember to always remain true.
Keep it in mind, as you walk these streets.
We’re hard to find, this rare breed.
Written By: Derek Lindsay
Maine State Prison
You’re all Alone
If you have an addiction, that needs to be fed.
Like an obsession inside of your head.
You’d do anything, to get that next fix.
Like, stealing, or turning tricks.
If you’re never experienced it first hand.
Then how can you tell me, you understand?
Because you read some books, or took some class?
Where they put your name on some useless plague?
So, try with your books and degrees.
To understand a users mind.
I can most definitely, garantee.
You will be completely blind.
To what goes on inside the mind,
of someone who wants to get high.
I know how it is, because I’ve lived this life.
So, here it is, some good advice.
Instead of trying to be so crooked or stoned.
Try to do the right thin when no ones looking
you’re all alone
Maine State Prison