Blogs from our Humans
Explore the writings of our humans that write to us regularly! Beyond a single narrative, poem, or story, these authors share writings on a variety of topics, sometimes in the form of long-term series, about their current lived experiences, opinions, and their histories.
“If prison is supposed to be about corrections and rehabilitation, why is more time not spent trying to understand why those who are incarcerated have become the people that they are and why they commit these crimes in order to attempt to correct the thought processes?”
I can see my future and it looks nothing like my past.
I’ve been in prison for 24 years. My sentence is Life Without the Possibility of Parole (LWOP). I’ve helped many prisoners get back into court.
Once I’m released I’d really like to experience true love and happiness with whomever my queen is. Do you have advice on identifying when somebody is true?
From the moment I knew I was going to be a dad, I couldn’t stop thinking about the future we’d have together.
As soon as I hit the water, the force of it made the mouth-piece to the air-tank jerk my dentures right out of my mouth- the mouthpiece floating one way and my dentures another.
I thought I had an inkling of what to expect when taking on the task of this job, but nothing could have prepared me for such a life-altering experience.
The most beautiful dark brown eyes set in a divine Navajo face looked up at me. Her hair done in a ribbon, her dress and white blouse pressed.
I’ve decided one way for me to give back is to tell my story through my writing. Today I’m truly successful because I believe in my abilities to achieve.
It’s hard to tell you how much I love my mom. I wish her a happy and carefree afterlife.
In 43 years of continuous imprisonment my most frightening moment occurred not in the riots, tear gas and bullets I have lived through. The most dominating feature in my 12’ by 5’ concrete demented domicile is an industrial stainless steel toilet and sink. I enjoy this area, 24 hours a day with another human being. This concrete box introduces an intimacy completely abnormal, only at gunpoint would a human being choose to endure year after year.
At the present time I remain entombed. I am living in what resembles a 17th century sepulcher. In the interior are two cement, platform slabs laying three feet adjacent to each other. The slabs are narrow sleeping quarters for the two occupants. Each has two small apertures hewn on its side for the storage of property. A narrow slit on the back wall serves as a window.