DemonKia
Posts: 5521
Joined: 10/13/2007 From: Chico, Nor-Cali Status: offline
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FR, after skim thru First my opinion, then a special treat for Stella . . . . . I note that the death penalty's hypothetical deterrent power is moot over the suicidal. I have a personal thesis that homicidal urges are actually suicidal urges that are being deflected by the psyche of the suicidal, in self-defense, outward. Also, as a sadist, I'm quite satisfied to let mass & serial murderers & so on sit in very boring prison cells for decades -- seems very equitable to me. But, my sense of ethics demands that those be safe boring prison cells, otherwise we're just being as poorly behaved as the bad guys . . . . . . Wow, was that succinct spouting of opinion or what, lol . . . . . . For me, that is . . . . Anyways, Stella, when I saw what this thread was about, the first thing I thought of was the following poem. I was involved in the 'slam poetry' scene from 1998 to 2001, & this poet was one of the many who came thru town selling chapbooks & bringing spoken word to eager young audiences. This is one of my favorites of his, I quite enjoy getting up in front of a crowd & sharing it, it's quite a beautiful piece to read aloud . . . . .. Angola Louisiana State Penitentiary circa 1969-70 By Mack Dennis Angola, Angola Lord they working me hard Angola, Angola Two more summers and I'll be gone Sent to a part of Louisiana I knew nothing about Shackled to brothers I knew nothing of Trucked to fields where grass abounds A khaki clad cracker unlocks iron from my ankles And he is insulting me: "You got to understand Angola penitentiary Don't try to make nothing easy for you!" He shouts to my shoe As I look at his holstered pistol The judge said hard labor And this red neck cracker is the enforcer And he is insulting us: "Grab a hoe! And stand two to a row. If you want to run, nigger -- run! But long as you're under my gun. You go' keep up with row number one!" Standing behind one Is a greasy black inmate guard with a shotgun He is wearing a lighter shade khaki than his boss Spits out tobacco juice just like his boss Will kill you quicker than his boss And he is insulting me: "Cut my grass, leave my beans! Hoe that row. You so and so. Show me what you got -- one!" And one is hoeing so fast But I have no problem catching one Cause I come from piece work on plantation And I know how to cut the grass Leave the greens And chop the dirt that's in between. But my row buddy handles his hoe Like a bitch He is a frail city boy with a rabbit tooth And I am helping him cause he is my brother. Then an old con on nine The row next to mine Says: "You can have that boy, now that you carried him." I said no thank you sir Cause I can't see myself Shackled to a bad relationship And I keep on helping him shave the grass. But when we got back to lock down And he found a love letter on his bunk I couldn't save his ass. A police whistle blew And the lights went out Reality went out The rabbit tooth was knocked out. I knew what the snakes would be after next Cause they tried me when I was a fish But I came from gangs pulling trains And I knew how to stick and move Duck my head And catch it on the hips instead. And when they said shit on my dick Or blood on my shank I said kill me mother fucker Cause my manhood go' last me Until I die. God I am so tired I got to rest up for the sun I got to keep up with one. Angola, Angola Lord they working me hard Angola, Angola Two more summers and I'll be gone Taken from "Rhyme Rhythm and Reasons", part of the Laguna Poets Series, #101, published by The Inevitable Press -- Copyright 1998 by Mack Dennis Thanks, Stella, for giving me an opportunity to dig into my poetry collection & share this . .. .. .
< Message edited by DemonKia -- 6/4/2009 7:33:07 PM >
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Snarko ergo sum. The Verbossinator
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