During my time in prison, I periodically engaged in creative writing as an outlet. I wrote some poems, as well a short story that I was really proud of at the time, called “The Lawnmower”. It was a short, ultra-descriptive story about an ex-convict, that is free but not entirely reformed. He is awoken too early by the sound of a neighbour mowing his lawn, and story covers the second-by-second trauma that is induced by all of the sensations that go along with this: The sunlight streaming through the window, the guys’ splitting headache, the incessant buzz of the lawn mower etc… Followed by the ensuing homicidal fantasy he has about killing his neighbour for this early morning indiscretion.

I am not so sure now, but at the time I was convinced it was a great story, and I actually submitted that story, by letter mail, to several short story magazines and publications. I got the occasional response, but, much to my chagrin at the time, didn’t get published.

Here is one of the poems I wrote during my prison time – The original hand-written copy that I still have in a folder, is dated October 4th, 2003. I would have been down just coming up on 3-years at that point, with another 2-years to go.

“Warehoused”

Single file – Keep to the right,

Forget yourself ‘cause you don’t matter,

Just a last name and number.

A guy could go crazy being

Counted too much.

Standing count, sitting cont,

Emergency count, out count, recount –

Countless days left to be counted,

Countless reasons to have another count.

Feel the emptiness filled by a song,

A thought, a sweet memory that makes

You long to be free – To better days past

And hopeful days in the future.

Don’t be broken down.

Tick-tock, tick-tock,

Nothing can stop time, that’s the

One thing you can always rely on.

In an inconsistent world, in an inconsistent

System, times remains consistently moving.

The rules change, the people change,

And before you know it – you change.

Some for the better, some for the worse…

But what can you do except wait

To be counted again?

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Re-reading it now, it instantly evokes a certain amount of emotion-tied-to-memory for me, in that among the words are some very true observations about daily life, like perpetually being counted, and my own personal response to how certain things made me feel.

The part that starts: “Feel the emptiness filled by a song, A thought, a sweet memory that makes You long to be free…” That stemmed from certain songs that made me intensely yearn for freedom or certain aspects of freedom, just by hearing them. As well, on several occasions I would see what I perceived as a beautiful woman on TV, that out of nowhere, would for no apparent reason at all, instantly make my heart ACHE as if I knew her and missed her greatly. It was an odd phenomenon for me, being that I was normally relatively unfeeling about things I had no control over. Though, in this case it was not necessarily the specific person I was looking at on my 13-inch screen, I think it was just the IDEA of the woman, the premise of having a beautiful woman to have, and to hold, and to love, that loved you in return, and to be intimate with. All of those being things that are denied you during your time.

To some it would be considered weak or lame to verbally express this much emotional content, or feelings inside. So you just don’t. I could write whatever I wanted though.

In the poem I also make the observation: “And before you know it – you change. Some for the better, some for the worse…” That stems from the fact that I could feel and see my views on so many things changing, based on what I witnessed, the people I was around and what I was exposed to inside. Anybody that does any real amount of prison time, that says they came out exactly the same as they went in, that it had no effect on them, is extremely prideful and/or flat-out lying. Period.

Until next time…