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MEMoosePatrol
M/Maine Husband, father, son, nephew, uncle, great-uncle, brother, lover of dry humor and puns. Teacher in a prison.
You and I were not friends, Jamie, But friendly acquaintances? Sure. You were in my English classes, For as long as your ADHD could endure. A great ambassador for my classes, Getting others to join and learn. But as for you, Jamie, you couldn’t slow down. Your mind always raced, always burned. Your passion was your Native past; I gladly shared all the info I had. But in the end, it could not save you, Your demons stayed until the last. We remember your enthusiasm, energy, and smiles, But if we are upset for now– You OD’d so soon after release; We’d hoped you’d make it many more miles. Triumphs here are measured in inches, not feet, For people incarcerated or out on the street. To rise up above takes commitment and grit, With help from outsiders who don’t give a sh*t About why you’re there–you are human, so they care. And when you lose one you’ve helped, it hurts. No matter their mistakes, their wrongs, or their sins, To love one another is where healing begins.
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Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 11:32 PM UTC
Jamie
The rain drums steadily on the roof. Beyond the next wall, a virtual classroom instructor’s voice drones through the speakers like Charlie Brown’s teacher: “Wah, wah wah wah. Wah. Wah.” A door in the hallway rattles as it is opened, and then it bangs shut. Florescent lights above my head whine, pulsating with the pain behind my eyes. The two-way radio crackles to life, a predictable disruption in this house of correction. I gaze around the room; beige plastic-molded chairs sit at tan wooden tables on a speckled tile floor, surrounded by off-white concrete block walls. Dreary hardly begins to describe it. Posters of nature scenes, the Bill of Rights, Branches of the U.S. Government, and other images make efforts to break through the drab discoloration, but the pasty clutter threatens to win the day. After having faded into the background, the rains pick up again, their crescendo and decrescendo toying with the listener, harkening to memories of cuddles with books, blankets, and hot chocolate.
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Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 4:24 PM UTC
Thoughts on a Rainy Afternoon
I used to get along with all my coworkers It was my signature but lately I've been angry and I've become illegible
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Sep 21, 2020
Sep 21, 2020 at 2:10 PM UTC
I used to get along
Sometimes I feel old over the hill worn out ready to throw in the towel Sometimes I feel young just beginning life not yet in my prime raring to get going Sometimes I don't feel at all conscious of each breath hearing the most inaudible sounds of silence unsure what to do next Where I am today I may not be tomorrow Where I am tomorrow I may not be next week The ebbs and flows of life and emotion leave me paralyzed Sometimes
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Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 12:33 PM UTC
Sometimes
We are locked inside a prison Forced away from light of day The only windows for our vision Show us those on life's hard way. Pithy memes make light of life bringing chuckles to the heart But they do not break the doldrums of the soul oft broken 'part. Concrete walls and off-white paint trap us in now seemingly more than ever. Masked for Covid we feel faint From these conditions we long to sever. So up go the posters of trees, sun, and flowers easing our minds from stresses and pain Artificial beauty to escape the long hours before our senses go down the drain.
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Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 9:36 AM UTC
Artificial Beauty
Good “What’s wrong with Jackson? Why’s he so upset?” “He got a call from home. His aunt’s had a heart attack.” “She’s the one who raised him? Isn’t that right?” “Yeah, and she’s not gonna make it through the night.” “Better call mental health, have them check on him.” “Already did that and they’ve been in. He says he’s fine, no threats of harm to himself or others, But we’ll keep an eye out in case he bothers.” “Keep up the good work. You’re a good CO. It’s something that our society just doesn’t know— While the world outside crumbles and falls, Correctional officers are called to stand tall, Fulfilling a mandate to keep inmates safe, to give them a chance even in the face of danger or illness. CO’s stand on the front line that’s never seen, never credited, but always on.” “As a wise kid once said, ‘You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.’”
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Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 9:58 AM UTC
Good
Orientations Behavior Reasons & Goal Setting Expectations And Stress Management Time & Contingencies Balance And Barriers Overcoming Problems Control Teamwork Safety Smart Moves Transferrable Skills Sunrise or Sunset on Your Career
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Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC
Key Words
For a long stretch of time, it seemed like spring would not come to Maine in 2020. Winter clung to us as if to say, "But how do I KNOW you'll be back in November? What if you decide not to have winter again? I think I'd better stay a little longer this year." At last, in mid-May, the thaw arrived. Nature has been greening and preening ever since. Spring has been showing off the glory of nature's Creator, displaying calm images of peace in the midst of a troubled world. Spring is my favorite season because of the renewal it brings. Today is the last day of spring. That always makes me a little bit sad, because from now until the first day of winter the days get a little shorter.
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Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 11:11 AM UTC
Came and Went, the Same Old Story
Spring's clawing its way to reality here in the deep heart of Maine. It's really no later than usual, but the lockdown has had us in pain. So many events have been canceled, the rites of passage cast aside, That the sight of green'ry and of blossoms, bursts our gloom, blooms of joy, hearts open wide.
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May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 8:46 AM UTC
It's about bloomin' time
What’s a block to you? Is it a distance that measures street to street in a city? Or is it a cube of wood used as a toy? Perhaps a chunk of material, no discernible or particular shape, Or defense in sport to prevent offense to move. It could be housing for the incarcerated, a portion of time, A section of cheese, or lack of writing ideas. Half an insult, maybe, paired with head? Part of an engine, working or dead. Noun, verb, or adjective, the grammarian in me Asks today what “block” is to thee.
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Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 10:29 AM UTC
Blocks