Skip to main content

Move it Along Shitheads

Iron doors clang
Like ancient gongs
Calling the devout to prayer.
Belly chains constrict
And leg irons jingle
With each trudging step…
And grown men weep.

Move it along Shitheads!

Like God from the ether
Loudspeakers blare
Shotguns are racked.
The peppery stench of teargas
Permeates the air…
And grown men weep.

Move it along Shitheads!

Days morph
Into weeks, and weeks
Morph into years.
The winding path never varies,
Uphill both ways.
Feet scab and blister.
Eyes lose their luster,
And fleas lay eggs and multiply…
And grown men weep.

Move it along Shitheads!

Some crawl out,
Others burrow deep
Into Mother Earth
For the Long Embrace…
Either way,
Grown men weep.

Move it along Shitheads!


Suicide Watch

I often sit perched
Staring through
This 6×30 sheet
Of reinforced glass
This portal
Into the unknown
Window into the soul
Through this superheated sand
I’ve comforted
Weeping grandfathers
And chided
Unruly, erratic grandsons
I’ve listened
To stories of love
And demented tales
Of incest, rape, and abuse
I’ve talked
Men down from the heights
And lifted
Boys up from the depths
I’ve cried
I’ve flinched
I’ve winced
And yes, occasionally
I’ve laughed

All this while staring through reinforced glass.


I was once insane

Last, drowning in boredom
and sensory deprivation,
I created HER.
At first, SHE
was just. SHE
A vague template
with apple-sized breasts
and long dark hair.
As my flower blossomed.
SHE developed sea-green eyes,
a sense of humor,
and the body of a goddess.
Soon, a light
dusting of freckles
spartered HER cheeks.
SHE sported a birthmark,
and SHE liked it when we held hands.
Not long after that,
SHE morphed
Into Miranda.
“Hi, Miranda.”
Miranda and I
did everything together.
We swam, we laughed.
we cried, we fucked.
“Miranda, you’re so great!”
Oh did we fuck!
Two squirrels in heat
we were
We fucked so much
my dick hurt
“God, Miranda, you’re so hot!”
Miranda and I
sailed the seven seas.
and hiked each continent.
We attended bullfights in Spain,
swam the English Channel
and made love atop the Andes
under a star-crammed sky,
I love you, Miranda.“
We bought a house
with a white picket fence.
then another down south
off the Abandic
and another overseas
“Miranda, isn’t this great?
It was
during this time,
as we played house.
board games.
and hookie
from vague, unknown
but well-paying jobs.
that IT happened.
Wranda, will you marry me?
I will
I shot upright
I almost tumbled
from the cold slab of concrete
my prison called a bed.
It couldn’t be
My heart hammered.
Sweat poured from my clammy skin.
I gulped.
Miranda, are you really there?
A long pause…
“I am.”

Button Text

Receive more inspiring stories and news from incarcerated people around the world.