Are we doing time? Or is time doing us all equally; what a disgusting question to ask such an unpaid slave. Where snow falls tear dropped to all snaggled brains. Do-rag heavies, untamed, unashamed, levees to be breached; young one's to teach to not come where we are. Where the bird's meet the bars, where men and women leave in cars, as we shall not. Where emotions run dry, smoke runs high to clouds that don't stop. Share with another you selfish generation; you greedy of celebrations, you hold to God no feast. Six-six-six is your name, fires your game, as on your knees you worship the beast. Blizzard time sledded children's fun; is none to be found, just shackles around to frighten your inner cold. All stories here go untold; for you are apart of that story.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©prison poetry/written in prison dec 6th,2013.
An old poem of many I wrote while being in crc prison near columbus ohio by pickaway ohio as stayed in crc prison where ariel castro the kidnapper stayed, the same man who kept the women chained up as slaves in his Cleveland ohio home for ten years as he kidnapped them being young girls sadly and escaped because one girl escaped downstairs and a black man saw her scream for help as he called the police saving the kidnapped women's life. Ariel castro died in a crc holding/protection cell 4 days after I got there as my cellmate saw his body being taken outta the hospital part in the prison early morn., as what the tv says he died in a cell, though we all suspected the guards (who laughed of his death,)who loved to beat people down in the yard and inside daily making blood pools,and pepper spray you and hurt innocent inmates (something news don't show reality,) actually killed mr castro. as I did a year for drug issues at time. And did time between crc and pickaway prison directly across the street which was eerie due to pickaway originally was a mental hospital/psych place in early nineteen hundreds where women alot were ***** by the workers and made to abort their children, then pickaway turned into a military training base then prison, as part of original prison was burnt in flames years back as old creepy buildings that were torched in a prison riot back in 80s early nineties forgot years, still set there as can see them. Though building I was in still looked felt and smelt old. I still felt the feeling the old psych patients were around, left lingering down the creepy corridors and halls. The souls their are unrested as can see the prison cemetery just up on a hill behind fence that kept us in like animals with a ****** in an undercover cop car going round and round to watch us like were cattle.