Why the Jailbird Prays: An Inmate's Life's Story and Testimony Behind a Prison Cell

Contents

Introduction

The Demon Telephone

The Paint Peeler

An Inmate’s Wish

Please Hear Me

My Public Defender

If Concrete Walls Could Speak

Nobody Cares I Feel

The Judge’s Son In Law

The Pitiful Bully

Outside This Wall & Cell

QUINCY’S TROOPERS

The Lonely Inmate

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

AFTERWORD

Introduction

My book title Why The Jail Bird Prays birthed from Maya Angelou’s inspirational reading and familiar poem Why The Cage Bird Sings. Since I can remember, Mrs. Angelou’s influential lifestyle, literary work, phenomenal master pieces and creative writing impressed and persuaded me to write compelling stories, interesting story lines, intriguing poetry and prolific poems. My voice will become the tool and avenue for monologues, short stories, creative writing and perhaps plays, yet I’m determined to be the voice, pen and author of this generation that breaks all barriers to writing and give non-fiction books color and new approaches to change the reader’s perception and open their eyes to real life. These crucial times and uncertain days that we live in require a new voice that is compelling and challenges the reader’s perception, breaks the barriers to societal norms and expectations and embraces the true aspect of real life.

When I wrote this book, I was in jail. Certainly, this was one of the most unusual places to write a book; however, the setting, atmosphere and climate was perfect for writing impressive, persuasive and influential chapters that will impress the reader while tapping into the reader’s emotions. This book will have both an indirect and direct affect and effect on the reader while changing the reader’s opinion, perception and view on criminals, jail life, jail’s conditions and the system of correction.

My individual experiences, personal encounters and actions in jail afforded me this opportunity of a life time to write Jailbird Poems: Prison Poetry, songs of compassion, inspirational stories and chapters that will speak to families of incarcerated loved ones. I trust in advance that this book, poems and songs will help families reconnect with their loved one in jail while seeing and understanding jail life. There are foreseen challenges and unforeseen dangers that come with jail life that determines an inmate’s survival, ability to cope with other’s dysfunctions, issues, inadequacies and insecurities; however, this book exploits those vicissitudes and circumstances while giving the reader an in-depth look on how the inmate deals with the individual challenges and handles the conflicts that rise suddenly, unexpectedly and spontaneously. In addition, this writing presents an inmate’s conflicts, dilemmas, their unorthodox behavior, conflicting personalities, bad attitudes and mental state of mind.

The book reveals and unveils the inmate’s troubles to educate you, enlighten and encourage the reader to see through their eyes while feeling jail’s heartbeat, jail’s inhumane conditions, segregation among races, peer pressure, inmate’s protocol, rules and obligations and general order. The reader will have a clear picture of jail’s coldness, biasness and prejudices. Despite the conditions and regardless of the vicissitudes, highly irregular encounters and experiences, my steps were ordered to jail by the Lord, and I could never regret this experience because it was a revelation, mandate and requirement commissioned by God.

I was the victim of someone else’s wrong doing, bad choice, poor decision, and blatant and gross conduct; however, this route was predetermined. I fulfilled a prophesy when I was jailed for 40 days and 40 nights. The prophecy of this book persuaded me to write this profound, prolific and evangelistic tool and literature piece. Each chapter brings the reader closer inside jail and behind the locked cells of criminal minds. I felt like a victim, but I realized later that my coming to jail was ordered by God to write the book. Each chapter developed from a poem that I created, which transformed into a chapter. I kept a personal diary and journal while in jail. Each day, I would record the event of the day, highlight of the day, the conflict of the day and the story of the day. Later that night, I would create a poem that complemented the day, and then, I would begin to write story lines and chapters, which reflected my observations.

My diary and journal developed into chapters while the poems developed into jailbird poems and prison poetry. I wrote and articulated intriguing chapters of unique stories. Inspiring poems were created that reflected the inmate’s life’s stories, testimonies, experiences and behavior in jail. Importantly, the book reveals life’s unfairness and hardship through comedy while the poems exploit an inmate’s difficult life through prolific storylines, melody lines and choruses that encourages one’s heart. Each poem has a melody line, but the music must be heard and created by the reader while hearing the inmate’s voice, story and testimony. For every poem, there is a song. The song lives in you.

The music composer and writer matured into this author that would write controversial stories and reveal testimonies that will break a man’s heart. Having written numerous songs, compositions and scored music for several plays, Why The Jailbird Prays is my favorite writing and composition.

The inmates embraced my company and shared their personal testimonies, complex lives and criminal history, and the poems developed. These inspiring poems unfolded to symbolize and reflect their hurt, pain and suffering. In fact, each poem tells a sad story about the inmate’s past. The poems reveal and portray the inmate’s dysfunction, issues, imperfections, inadequacies and insecurities. Furthermore, it reveals drug abuse, child abuse, parent abuse, police abuse, brutality, and how the inmates abused their mind, body and soul as a result of their painful past. The writings convey an inmate’s disparity, defeat and discouragement.

This book unfolds the mysteries and secrets behind Pod C’s cells, which are unique, interesting and impressionable. Each chapter presents a situation, conflict or controversy that took place while I was in jail till I was released September 13, 2010. The storylines have a unique twist; however, the chapters describes bizarre stories and encounters, yet it portrays and conveys the inmate’s mind set and way of thinking while going into the inmate’s mind and revealing his way of thinking. Although I transformed into several characters in this book, I played an intricate role in the lives of the inmates. I cared, and I availed myself to these gentlemen to bring consolation, peace and harmony to Pod C.

It was not my original intent to play the lead role or main character in this book. Originally, my role and character was that of a supporting character/actor while bringing flamboyancy and creativity to each chapter; however, as the stories and events developed, progressed and unfolded, I blossomed into a main character.

Perhaps, if you knew me personally and had known me all of my life, you would probably say that I was telling a tale and a fat lie because I’ve been the one in the line light. Usually, I am the center of attention and the life of the party, but per this reading, it was my every intention and original idea to intrigue the reader with the inmate’s story and his testimony. It was not about me. Their story, bizarre behavior, questionable intents and unorthodox thinking drew me to write about their personalities. As a result, a book developed.

Although my life’s experiences, vicissitudes, questionable circumstances and complexities dictated and influenced me to write this compelling book, I involuntarily and unintentionally became the main character. I became the voice of the inmate’s story and testimony through counseling and mentoring them both individually yet collectively. I was the unofficial and elected psychiatrist, shrink and counselor while needing help too. I was coerced into becoming this character while being distraught and discombobulated from jail’s conditions. However, I allowed the inmates to vent before me in a 1:1 counseling session to encourage dialog, build a rapport and understanding of our ties, and to create an environment and setting where the inmate could express their hurt, pain and suffering. Their feelings were buried, and they needed an escape and an avenue to release the pain that was hidden in their subconscious minds and hibernating in the corner of their minds. I didn’t mind becoming Pod C’s elect-shrink.

I may not have been paid commissary or given some kind of payment for my indirect and informal counseling services, yet this book is my just reward, payment in full and my reimbursement. I was granted the opportunity to feel their hurt, understand their pain and see a side to them where they could vent and release their sufferings, which had them bound for years. Counseling them informally was more than a notion in itself because I needed counseling and crisis intervention myself, yet I was bombarded with their issues and I really never properly dealt with my feelings and disorientation. I was honored to embrace their stories and share these stories and testimonies in this reading. I appreciate the inmates for holding me accountable and entrusting me with their stories. Their matters will remain confidential, and their real names and identities will be kept in the secrets of my journal and diary.

The inmate’s dilemmas in life, dysfunctions and issues were expressed to me individually yet separately with no hesitation or reservations. This surprised me at first, but as the inmate’s built trust and confidence in me and felt that I was genuinely concern, everyone eventually opened up to me easily. They trusted me with their criminal history, abuses and privacy. As a result, I could communicate with them individually, effectively and efficiently. This established rapport and respected friendship embellished and grew into a permanent, divine and impressionable connection, which will stand the test of time.

The afterword proceeds and supersedes the twelve chapters and poems. It reveals to the reader my personal challenges in writing this book and how I had to overcome my adversities and very own dysfunctions, issues and dilemmas while in jail. I am expressing my convictions and individual complexes, which inspired me to see the inmates through God’s eyes and not Mark’s judgmental eyes, arrogances and personal beliefs. I trust in advance that this book becomes an evangelistic and informational tool that will break the barriers to prejudice, bigotry, segregation and popular and bias inner circles. I believe this book is a life changing moment. The poems are sacred moments in time that reveal an inmate’s struggles, which in return changed my life to become better and not bitter.

May you find a chapter or poem inside that will inspire you and instill new purpose, values and visions. I’m hoping that you will be encouraged and moved emotionally by this literary work. I trust in advance that you will be inspired and persuaded to pray for the jail bird, the prisoner and the fellow inmates across the world. Jail and prison is not an easy travel or comfortable place. Although it is a form of punishment, still, persons deserve to be treated like a human and not an animal. Jail’s conditions are inhumane. The hard concrete, steel chairs and concrete bed is not fit for an animal or a pig. I encourage the reader to connect with an inmate in your family and take the speck out of your eyes to rebuild character in this family member, restore them and to revive them emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Look pass the inmate and their crime, and look into their eyes to find the good and potential in them. You will be surprised to see what you will find. By the grace of God, there goes I (you), and in closing, that could have been your child, mother, father, brother or sister. So judge not the inmate. Change the way you think and modify your actions, and watch a remarkable and miraculous change take place. Respectfully written to persuade the way you think and how you perceive others. Learn to think outside the box, and avoid rocking a glass house. We are all a work in progress.

The Demon Telephone

A fight breaks out one by one because of a demon.

Hostility spreads throughout the pod, and the phone is the reason.

Will this pay phone cause the life of a friend?

The jail called his mother, and said, Sorry mam this is the end.

Take the phone, or get more phones before another’s killed.

A collect call isn’t worth fighting for, or a mother’s grief we’ll feel.

The Paint Peeler

He peels the paint off hard concrete. Can you see his nails?

His nubs are all that I can see. The wall revealed his trail.

His nerves were bad since a small age. The fourth grade he had failed.

His daddy beat him and mom abused him. It caused him to rebel.

I wonder why he’s still in jail sitting in a cell.

He’s peeling walls and creating art will it ever sell.

Will the paint be replaced or will he die in jail?

He’ll leave behind a picture wall and a broken finger nail.

An Inmate’s Wish

If I could rewind the clock on the wall and change the date and time,

I wouldn’t have done or acted out this horrific crime.

I’d always wished my daddy would have only stuck around?

My bunions hurt and feet are sore pacing prison’s ground.

Mother’s drinking and her smoking surely kept me bound.

That’s why I ran away from home never to be found.

It wasn’t easy. I was needy. I was just a child.

Drugs found me and still haunt me and I am simply wild.

I wish I could rewind and return a child. My temper would be mild.

Please Hear Me

I’m innocent not guilty. I shouted, please hear me!

It’s all a big mistake. Trust me you will see.

The paper reads I’m guilty, but the complainant is lying.

My attorney’s not defending me and is procrastinating.

My lawyer pushed me into lying and falsely confessing.

I went a long and lied because he said 10 years you are facing.

So probation I pleaded 5 years and 5G’s. You know that I am angry

Please hear me. My defender showed me. He’s a crook, and he’s lazy.

He left me in jail extra days with males because I fired him quickly.

I should have been released August 17th. He tried to drive me crazy.

He lied and said $100,000 bail and home confinement you’re serving.

I turned it down, said take it to trial. He started working against me.

My mother called him. He hung up on her, and that’s when I knew he was lying.

He wouldn’t repeat the lie he told me because he knew my mother was discerning.

The 14th I was released. No help from my attorney. I pray he dies painfully and slowly.

My Public Defender

My public defender befriended the p.a. weeks before my trial.

He never viewed the discoveries. He just wanted it to be final.

I read the charges and my friend did too. I knew I won this battle.

The state’s case was weak and weak indeed. I never once was rattled.

Now, don’t doubt me in anyway. The truth is the only way.

The state won’t imprison me one day.

It’s all a part of politics. You could probably even say.

Some lawyers are crooks and very lazy, and want an easy pay.

If Concrete Walls Could Speak

I wish that prison walls could speak to tell the true story.

If walls could speak, would it repeat my defeat and my glory?

My uncle was here. Please reveal to me his testimony.

The wall said,

"It has been so long ago. I forget sometimes you see.

The wall is aging, and I am old. It’s very hard remembering.

The days are shorter and the hours are longer from what I can tell.

Booking’s first. That’s protocol when you come to jail.

Well, I won’t reveal or try to tell the secrets of each male.

Some will die and go to Heaven while others will go to Hell."

Nobody Cares I Feel

I’m smoking and starring. I’m depressed in my cell.

I wish someone would save me before I go to hell.

I wish I could see cows grazing in fields of grass so green.

My slender window depicts a view of cement and concrete.

I see some calling and opening a letter from his family.

I burnt my bridges, squealed on my brother and betrayed my buddy.

For years, I’ve come in and out of jail. My hands hang out the cell.

Daddy was fed up, and momma gave up and would not go my bail.

All I got is my family here and the brother in my cell.

He’s a trustee and sneaks smokes to me. I hope no one will tell.

The Judge’s Son In Law

Does my bronze skin and wooly type hair make it hard for you to see?

That I could be your son—in—law to be, but you’ve remanded me.

Cindy loves me, a good-girl you see. How interesting?

We’re getting married on August 14th before you sentence me.

Raise your right hand and swear to me. Is this a fantasy?

Cindy said, No. I love him, He’s the very best thing happening.

Don’t treat him like the enemy, a minis and a threat to society.

Please give Cindy a father’s blessing. I’m pregnant in reality.

Your first grandchild is living in me. He’s kicking as I speak.

Be careful of what you say about his daddy. He’ll take it out on me.

My baby’s daddy’s life is in the judge’s hands. Please deliver a fair sentencing.

You sentenced him to 40 years, I miscarriage and my baby died inside me.

The Pitiful Bully

It’s pitiful to see Pod C’s loud bully.

His hair was nappy, and he was mean and acted crazy.

We were so sick of his screaming and loud threatening.

His bark was loud. His punch was soft. We eventually got to see.

He hit one man and two joined in to help the pitiful bully.

Prison he’ll go, where no fire arms are sold. Bubba may call you Lilly.

You’ll probably be Bubba’s bitch, quiet as you can be.

He’ll 40 years to your 5 years, will last an eternity.

Martha remembers and others reminisce what you did in Pod C.

While Bubba gets ready for you to turn over your chubby belly.

Why do you stare at Bubba and sit so quietly?

Bully him like you did in Pod C, and see if he acts differently.

Now you see your match indeed. Meet your new cellie.

Giants fall and bullies crawl after their defeat.

Thanks for my mat you gave and my pillow two. At first, I liked you.

But overtime your actions proved that skies aren’t always blue.

Eventually you calmed down when fortune came inside the courtyard room.

I was glad that he transferred in, and you stopped acting like a fool.

Could fortune have been your enemy outside these walls you spend?

There are no guns to trigger from. Your hands you must depend.

You settled down and realized that bullying had an end.

You acted like fortune was never your enemy, and you all had been friends.

Outside This Wall & Cell

Inside these walls are tiny cells with men of bloody hands.

Outside this wall and tiny cell is a murderer, who has a second chance.

He’ll kill again. He always wins the trophy of his choice.

Friday is the 13th, the day that things will get worse.

He’s not afraid that he’ll be found. He never makes a sound.

Outside these walls he’s never caught. Ladies are always bound.

A greater kill exists therein, inside this wall and cell.

He’s the brother of Killer Bob and refuse to even tell.

QUINCY’S TROOPERS

Trooper’s like to beat on men and punch them in their face.

They’ll lie and tell the Magistrate you fell along the way.

It’s funny how your shackled and cuffed by Trooper Danny Hanes.

While with him your ribs were broke as he beat you in the rain.

Danny’s like his daddy Roy. The Sherriff yesterday.

There’s nothing new up under the son. They are all the same.

Take pike. Ignore the bell. Avoid the bloody stains.

It just takes a little more time. It’s faster either way.

Who’s to blame? Is it the Magistrate or the system who asks your name?

Your picture was taken and appeared in Lock-up, and no one is ashamed.

Quincy’s troopers get away with beatings and maybe murder soon one day.

Tell your lawyer, mother and sister that I taped the beating in May.

The New Drug

Meth is treated like a petty crime. In jail, we learned to see.

Let a brother get caught selling crack. He’ll get a life sentencing.

A pat on the hand is all one gets for bout to blow up a community,

More time is given for growing herbs in state’s it’s grown legally.

How foolishly for me to think so seriously? He got a P.R. regretfully.

The ole’ town drunk got more time, and his bottle was ’bout empty.

This is what I’ve seen in my city and county. Don’t get mad at me.

It goes to show that the law is unfair. Crack and weed is sentenced unfairly.

Meth ages you and breaks you. Just see the cracks in their face.

The time is low and the fine is low like a ticket gone unpaid.

After court, the cooks go home. Jefferson stands amazed.

The Lonely Inmate

You contemplate and hibernate to avoid the thought of jail.

You woke up and realized that you’re in a prison cell.

What have you done? You always fail. Will you prevail?

You’ll fight for your tray and man hood while you live in jail.

No slot on the phone. No tone to be heard from what I can tell.

Your tray is stolen. Your clothes are taken. You rang the bell.

The guard came over. You repeated yourself over like a tattle tell.

Jail’s not fair. Right now you can tell. The guard said, Oh well.

Stand at the door when chow comes in. This is merely jail.

That’s the only way I can assure you a meal. Get use to being in hell.

Don’t sleep in or come out too late. You’ll starve before you get bail.

Jail’s unfair and cruel I’ll say. There’s no equality or real fame.

So understand you’re just a number. You have yourself to blame.

You can’t be so soft or too nice, or you will be put to shame.

They’ll challenge you and threaten you, and some will act inhumane.

Chapter 1

For months, I refused to go to church. I refused to pray. I was determined that God had forsaken me. I felt like God had abandoned me and left me to die. I’m bitter, and I’m mad at God. I’m angry, and I’ve backslid from the grace of God because it hasn’t been sufficient for me, and neither