Jun 2015
The stars I cannot reach, they're as far as the pastor on the pulpit as he'd preach. They're as vague as mother's speech when she'd teach
Prison walls concealing me. High walls confining me
Caged in a cubicle, I'm a boisterous being
I'm at a den
I'm the lion and the prey
Words slap me back as I pray
It's a wrestling match between myself and my demons
Where if higher I'd have undeniable intellect and reason
I am a slave of hope and a sorry case for dreams
When will I leave this place where they took my life away
Was it so horrible that crime that with my life I had to pay?
Prison bars I draw the energy and strength of the steels as I hold
I am getting out of this place wise and bold
Sunrise reminds me of regret, how I let them take my life away,
How I had to be militant,
unyielding and fight on the day
Prison bars fade so I can see the way
Rain or shine I have only pain and sorrow to claim as mine
It's a dark place in which cries echo and songs of weeping are sung
There was a number of men singing songs of sore souls and I heard the heartbeat of a woman
Moments still live and I levitate, my heart cascades and the memory remains firm and thorough,
the memory of love, the unity of family, the memory of amiability and brotherhood
The memory of the forgotten wars and the terror of crippled minds
What weapons have I to save a dying legacy?
Prison bars acknowledge the vocal emotion that is within me and free me
Yield as you realise they can't take my soul
Yield as you notice that a home could heal
Surrender for I have a worldly good in store
Shake and dither as the beating of my heart makes you uneasy
Break down as I refuse to stay down
Melt as I cry out tears as hot as lava
Give me a chance to find a lover
Prison bars give me chance to create another
I hear the wings of a bird flapping and I remember the breath of life
The song that faith inspires lives again
I sound deafening noises that eradicate the constriction
I hold it firmly til it comes crumbling down
It is an army of a new generation
Soldiers who have souls
Prison bars fall down to the floor
It is a tale it is folklore
There's more to life than death; I die no more
Prison walls concealing me. High walls confining me
Caged in a cubicle, I'm a boisterous being
I'm at a den
I'm the lion and the prey
Words slap me back as I pray
It's a wrestling match between myself and my demons
Where if higher I'd have undeniable intellect and reason
I am a slave of hope and a sorry case for dreams
When will I leave this place where they took my life away
Was it so horrible that crime that with my life I had to pay?
Prison bars I draw the energy and strength of the steels as I hold
I am getting out of this place wise and bold
Sunrise reminds me of regret, how I let them take my life away,
How I had to be militant,
unyielding and fight on the day
Prison bars fade so I can see the way
Rain or shine I have only pain and sorrow to claim as mine
It's a dark place in which cries echo and songs of weeping are sung
There was a number of men singing songs of sore souls and I heard the heartbeat of a woman
Moments still live and I levitate, my heart cascades and the memory remains firm and thorough,
the memory of love, the unity of family, the memory of amiability and brotherhood
The memory of the forgotten wars and the terror of crippled minds
What weapons have I to save a dying legacy?
Prison bars acknowledge the vocal emotion that is within me and free me
Yield as you realise they can't take my soul
Yield as you notice that a home could heal
Surrender for I have a worldly good in store
Shake and dither as the beating of my heart makes you uneasy
Break down as I refuse to stay down
Melt as I cry out tears as hot as lava
Give me a chance to find a lover
Prison bars give me chance to create another
I hear the wings of a bird flapping and I remember the breath of life
The song that faith inspires lives again
I sound deafening noises that eradicate the constriction
I hold it firmly til it comes crumbling down
It is an army of a new generation
Soldiers who have souls
Prison bars fall down to the floor
It is a tale it is folklore
There's more to life than death; I die no more
In a confinement concentration the first time you see somebody stabbed, *****, guards attacking the captives, blood sports: you lose yourself
The fifth time, seventeenth time you see it you just spit
Over time certain tortures and inflictions of pain
Violent acts that you witness make you lose emotional response
You feel so much pain that many things don't hurt anymore
You become numb
They make you a monster and then they blame you for revolting
They take you through malevolent thought-forms that they orchestrate consciously and blame you for becoming a monster
Who is the real monster?
The wise will tell you; the boys in the kitchen-the chemists
Rehabilitation centres? More like dehumanization camps for creating mind-controlled slaves and social vegetables
Jail desensitizes.
The fifth time, seventeenth time you see it you just spit
Over time certain tortures and inflictions of pain
Violent acts that you witness make you lose emotional response
You feel so much pain that many things don't hurt anymore
You become numb
They make you a monster and then they blame you for revolting
They take you through malevolent thought-forms that they orchestrate consciously and blame you for becoming a monster
Who is the real monster?
The wise will tell you; the boys in the kitchen-the chemists
Rehabilitation centres? More like dehumanization camps for creating mind-controlled slaves and social vegetables
Jail desensitizes.
(29/M/Witbank, South Africa)
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