" Do you know what makes prisons disappear? Every deep genuine affection. Being friends, being brothers, loving, that is what opens the prison, with supreme power, by some magic force. Without these one stays dead. But whenever affection is revived, there life revives."

Saturday, March 30, 2013

A childhood lost... by L. Merck

A CHILDHOOD LOST...




There have been many times that I’ve put pen to paper to try and tell this story, but it’s either been incredibly over emotional or I just didn’t seem to do it justice. I even tried to write it from the point of view other than mine, that of a little boy who was physically abused from a young age and how he would go about seeing the world around him, and although I have a basic interest in psychology, I think that even the most qualified psychologist would have trouble doing that. So after a lot of soul-searching I felt that there was only one way to give it any credence and that is to use Troy’s own words.
 When I first started writing to Troy in July 2011 as is usual we went through the stage of trying to find out as much as we could about each other. He asked me about my family and I shared everything I could possibly think of at the time including the fact that my youngest son has dyslexia. This was his response:

 I was born with something called Foetal Alcohol Effect. It’s a milder version of Foetal Alcohol Syndrome. ADHD is one of the things that manifest with it. That and the condition with my eyes. It’s called ptosis.

 I have an IQ that ranges between 145 – 125 which is rare for someone with F.A.E. but because of the ADHD and the eyes, not to mention being dirt poor, I hated school. I broke my teacher’s ribs in 3rd Grade and would run off as soon as I got off the bus. I just could not sit still and focus for the length of a class so I stayed in trouble with the teachers and was fighting everyday with the kids who picked on my eyes and ragged clothes.

 As a result I got very little education. About 3 months into the 8th Grade. But only two grades did I actually go for more than half the year. 5th and 7th. In the 4th I went for 33 days and in the 6th I went on full day and two partial days. They passed me both times.
 They didn’t know how to deal with Special Needs kids at that time up in the mountain schools.


 Then he added,

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Who failed? What failed?


Who failed? What failed?

Society never failed.
They say it was all me.
After all, Isn’t that the reason the court calls me guilty?

It was not my family.
They’re trying to do what is best.
That’s why they turned me in, placed me under arrest.
And it was not the cops that bruised my wrists.

 It was the cuffs clamped too tight, even though I did not resist.
And the shirt that was ripped as they threw me around
didn’t matter at all, because I was screwin’ around.

 Was my family doing what was best when they smacked me
around because I fled school?

The teachers barely taught, and they never try to
understand. It’s learning communication and support
that turns boys into men.

It’s no one’s fault but my own, and I do understand.
As long as society continues to lie, it is all my fault,
and I hold in the cry.


Source: Illustrations from the Inside: The Beat Within (2007)

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Nevermore ..or the importance of mail


 
 
Nevermore
 
Nevermore will I know
The pain of loneliness within
despair and agony of sorrow
Such a desperate state I was in
Never more will I feel
what it is not to love
for I have something so real
I have found someone to love
Never more will I need
to silently cry myself to sleep
wanting to commit a terrible deed
ending this sadness so deep
Nevermore will I deipair
for love has found my heart
once again for someone I care
my life has a fresh start
Nevermore will I journey down
my heart is soaring on high
flying on love unbound
how it happened I don`t know why
Nevermore will I think nevermore
for I have been showed the way
now I`ll love forever more
In letters written everyday
 
Harold Lee
 


Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Do you ever dream?


** Do you ever have a bad dream and when you wake up you`re scared to go back to sleep? You lay there eyes wide and you don`t want to move in fear that what you thought you were dreaming may turn out to be a reality.

Well this is my “dream”, my reality, my cell in the Texas`Polunsky Unit Death Row.

I wonder at times if life is just a dream in which we are just “currently” living in and once we wake from it we go into another. I  look back and ask myself “how?”, “why?”,“why me?”

All these thoughts run through my head on daily basis. Everyday is a constant struggle to get out of bed, eat, shower, read, and write, yet everyday I continue to find a way to do it.

It is not easy to be positive when you are surrounded by negativity all the time. I mean, who wants to be told when to sleep, shower, recreate, eat? Can one ever truly get used to something like this ever?

I am send here with the order to be killed by lethal injection, yet everyday I tell myself to get up and be pro-active in my fight for my life. It can be hard at times but a quote always comes to my mind: “ He who hurries cannot walk with dignity”.

When I was young my dad had me memorize it and I still remember and use it to this day. Its funny how something so meaningless at the time turn out to mean so much later in life, but that`s life right?

I continue to dream and wake up with the same reluts in hope one day the “dream” will change, but until than I will continue to fight for my life!

For those of you who take the time to read this. I thank you..

If you are interested in corresponding with me or would just like to say hello, you can write me at the following address.

I wish you all well and God bless!!

 
Sincerely yours,

Christian Olsen
 
#83886
1835 Sandy Point Rd.
Bryan, TX 77807
USA
 
Words from Editor: Christian was moved from Death Row to Byran)
 

Art by Kevin "Rashid" Johnson

Art by Kevin “Rashid” Johnson, held in solitary confinement in VA for the past 18+ years
(Solitairy Watch News)

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Ambitions swell my heart, by Christopher Corbin


Ambitions swell my heart,
With no truthful place to explore,
Sun consumed by the dark…
Left abandoned by tides ashore.

 
With no truthful place to explore,
Sand flattens foam standing still,
Left abandoned by tides ashore
Waves withdraw feeling with its thrill.

 
Sand flattens foam standing still,
One by one, bubbles burst,
Waves withdraw fleeing with its thrill,
Why does hope hang us with its curse?

 
One by one, bubbles burst,
Pressed by breezes wanting to know
Why does hope hang us with its curse?
Addicted to the rush of fantasy`s flow

 
Pressed by breezes wanting to know
Of the recipe stirring inside you
Addicted to the rush of fantasy`s flow
Camouflaged by the problems that divide you.

 
Of the recipe stirring inside of you,
Constantly thinking getting no stronger
Camouflaged by the problems that divide you,
Going on, when going is, no longer…

 
Constantly thinking getting no stronger,
Burrowing through life still behind on breath,
Going on, when going is, no longer…
Like a heartbeat itself to death.

 
Burrowing through life still behind on breath,
Questions come knocking on double locked doors,
Like a geartbeat beating itself to death,
Wanting one more chance, but answers ignored.

 
Questions come knocking on double locked doors,
Sun consumed by the dark,
Wanting one more chance but answers ignored,
Ambitions swell my heart.

 

Christopher Corbin

Connelly Unit, Kenedy

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Three drawings by J. Stevens # 1062711



 
James Stevens
# 1062711
Powledge Unit
1400 FM 3452
Palestine, TX 75803 - 2350