#jail
My sticky fingers
Seem to ruin everything,
Stealing my future.
I watch my dreams slip
Through my desperate fingers,
My unstable hands.
Someday these dry palms
Will be pressed against steel bars.
****** sticky fingers.
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 10:27 AM UTC
It's crazy you never realize how much time is flying by, especially when every second is dedicated to getting high.
Living life like a twisted show, wondering if this pit will ever plateau, honestly how much farther can I go?
The high is such a rush I used to believe I could fly, but now there's no reason to deny the only thing they make me believe is that I want to die.
My head was once filled with hopes and dreams, now its filled with unending screams. I'm feeling so lost and falling apart at the seams.
At one point I had such a beautiful life, but thanks to the drugs its been filled with strife. Maybe that's why I sit here with a knife, debating on if I should take my life.
I can hear my kid's laughter from over there; I can picture there smiling faces everywhere. I swore I'd always be there and now my life is in constant despair.
I had to take a break at "Gods hotel" but I really think I'm doing well. I know I fell and was running wild, but I've always known I was Gods child.
I may be here for a bit, but I know God is determined to help me quit.
I need to help myself and put this addiction away on the shelf. If only I had magic like an elf.
This is the last time I will come to this place, I swear it with tears across my face, I'm tired of living like a disgrace.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 5:39 PM UTC
I'm trapped in this six by eight waiting on court to learn my fate, steadily begging God that it's not too late.
My kid's birthday is coming up and I don't think I'll ever be enough for my kids. They need a mom, not an addict always doing wrong.
I feel like I don't have a heart because the drugs have torn it apart. I need to figure out a way to give it a jump start, not a whole fire just a little spark.
I need some hope, not knowing how much longer I can cope without making thirteen knots in a rope. I can only blame myself and the dope.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 5:26 PM UTC
I gave you a free ticket out of jail
I hope you use it wisely
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 8:29 AM UTC
"BANG, BANG", I can now hear them pounding on my door.
Then, "BANG, BANG", car doors close, I'm at home no more.
Pushed and stuffed in the back of a sleek unmarked car,
Driven quickly, hands secured, my journeys end is not far.
"You", he points, "Over here now"; I tell him my name.
He stares at some forms, to him we are all the same.
A loud "BANG", then locked in a cell with many I'll share.
Grim faces turn, my gut tells me best not to stare.
Three others and I are ordered, "Get up now, and get out".
In another room, we strip and are searched as we turn about.
"Hurry up and get dressed", then we wait in another cell there.
And we wait and we wait, no one even pretends that they care.
Again, it's "get out now, get out", and each of us led to a room.
"BANG", we find ourselves locked in our own concrete like tomb.
"BANG", at the door, something like food is pushed through to eat.
Time passes slowly; nighttime offers us but a long restless sleep.
A new dawn welcomes us with our first judgement day.
Soon it is "Everybody out, now, get in line, best you not delay."
Hurry, let's go"; some of are led left and some are led right.
"BANG", another door, more waiting, there seems no end in sight.
"BANG, BANG", a gavel sounds, leaving me little doubt.
Payment required for freedom or there is no getting out.
"CA-CHING", lawyers, "CA-CHING", experts, each wanting their own dime.
"BANG, BANG", soon more court sessions and meetings devouring my time.
All the delays and motions quickly add months and then years.
The lack of progress frustrates and multiplies my hopeless fears.
Waiting and waiting, a life in limbo, I finally say that is enough.
"BANG, BANG", a judge, a court order with her act of being tough.
Probation, costly assessing, therapy and tests come as I fall.
"BANG, BANG", that is my head hitting a wall.
BANG'',BANG" ... "BANG, BANG"!
Falsely accused, wrongfully abused.
"BANG, BANG"!
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 12:42 PM UTC
“There’s nothing you wish for that won’t be yours
if you stay alive.” --Beowulf
Winter mix. Don’t relax. Leave me alone
with autumn, an autumn like last autumn
or running in new snow, loving that feeling.
Sick of meditation, my existence
indivisible from the wry Creator’s.
I like the old Rhymer, his smile resplendent,
but all I have is all I do not know.
The past isn’t dead it never even
happened. Learn the changes then forget them.
Keep on learning and re- learning them.
Down the steep and icy trail through hail and storm,
take into eternity my hail and farewell.
We’re living in the Anthropocene.
Indestructible garbage. Bulldozed landscape.
Big Brother, dead father. ***** of the tiger.
Getting thought to twitch the prosthetic.
Mischievous, malevolent, militant
thistles. Or just plain polite Americans,
afraid to get shot. Old-timers bagging
groceries, low social security.
Situps, pushups, fix yr brakes, fix yr leaks.
Exhausted by that irritating,
constant need to survive. Surrounded by
history, neither seen nor heard from again.
If it’s human, nothing’s wasted. Pasted
into a big wet kiss or posted
on the internet. Stolen from the pockets
of the dead, burgled from living memory.
Most art is dispensable, ***** and *****
vaginal lubrication, prostate enlargement,
the unknown, anonymous man named me.
Things fall apart. Or maybe not. Maybe
it’ll all hold together 10,000 years more
after all we’ve observed a galaxy born
13 billion years ago, a faint red blur,
and microbe partnerships on the ocean floor.
The good life’s all around us smiling
girls on bicycles, dogs on leashes,
equality is mandatory.
Sweet solitude and privacy, quiet
sitting spot, write a little, read a lot.
Tip generously, gratuitously,
like good luck. Haircut, cabride, dinnerout,
to eat a continent is not so strange.
Japanese knotweed also known as kudzu.
The Chinese navy also known as t’ai chi.
Water shortages. War and wildfire.
Humor or ardor, I can’t decide.
Dad’s steel-toed boots. Leaves, buds, flowers, fruits.
Things are said, mistakes are made. I’m driving
pontificating on geopolitics
when an archangel flies into the windshield!
Lost my timepiece, lost my metronome. Well,
music is a manufactured crisis.
Caloric restrictions, control your addictions,
desire to be famous, prone to violence.
The profusion of species contents me.
Wilderness comes back strong as cactuses,
chestnuts, coral. No more missile crises.
Eat less, an empty belly’s holy.
Horselum, bridelum, ridelum,
into the fray! World order—not my problem.
Only meditation can save your soul,
should there be such a thing. Learning who you are
is difficult as sitting still 10 minutes
w/o a thought or want. Knowledge of death
without dying = early retirement.
No solution to death’s finality
and such a blessing awaits me, too.
If you’re suicidal they call the cops.
The audience is full of glee. Most failures,
and most successes, are in our future.
Look one way, from another come the heart’s
missed beats. Look slowly, labor for the success
of others, even the old and frayed.
First entertain, then enlighten if you can.
Forget me not, is that all I want?
Jail or zen mountain monastery
hiphop artist hypnotist bebop trumpeter
unknown soldier black bear bad bladder
ice cold beer poker player wry Creator.
If not one way, then another. Otherwise
give me your 5-10 best hiphop artists. Can
they take the sting out of life like bluegrass, jazz?
We hope everyone alive is essential,
consequential. The commonplace and everyday
is sanctified. Nothing else special
need be done but stay alive. Don’t lose passport,
don’t be late to airport. Is it stress? Yes.
Insects are pollinators, insects are us.
Romance without finance is a nuisance.
November, however, is sweet, sunshine
through bare trees, dry leaves companionably
visiting among the dead. If you run over
a chipmunk, a groundhog or a skunk, say
a short prayer. One can’t help being here, ****
I live in a state so blue there’s nothing I can do
to change man’s trajectory and if I could
what angle of re-entry or ascent
would I choose? Grace is what we get no matter
what the plot. Come the tired end of day
Jack thinks why not waste time watching tv
but the next day he has a hangover
like Ernest Hemingway or **** Jagger.
The material world is reality.
Reality’s not always what we’re after.
I like Jack’s confidence, that working the problem
will result in better outcomes than guessing.
Poetry is plumbing an answer to
the problem of what to do and why do it
when your cancer makes poetry from
losing the argument with yourself.
Man needs help from every creature born.
The blackbird contains death but it’s bigger than death.
It’s more like God but an ironical god.
Smaller and funnier than God, impossible
to regard directly, gotta look sideways,
aim binoculars left, right, up, down—
missing every time. There’s nothing you wish for
that won’t be yours if you stay alive.
Apr 19, 2023
Apr 19, 2023 at 9:57 AM UTC
To hear the mermaids singing. Not quite.
To make sense of life. No experience, no nonsense.
To make life better for future generations.
Why care about the future? The dead don’t live to see it.
To save people or nations.
Poets just wanna have fun.
To exceed one’s limits, derivatives with limits.
The one power that a man can have is in the perfection of himself.
Clear commentary from which many people will derive meaning.
Having nothing to teach I tell a joke. The snail joke.
To produce knowledge, nuance and pleasure.
Whatever you do to one side of the equation you gotta do to the other.
There are a few mirrors in which I imagine myself.
The dream mirror in which I’m killin the villains.
The public school in which I teach, energy incubator awesome biomass
collector innovation inhibitor introduction to classical mathematics
memory organizer promotion celebration teen lovefest testosterone
uncontrolled substance.
Jail’s the alternative, alternate noosphere, foreseeable force,
intemperate penance, meditational penitentiary, prayer cellblock,
library laundry, aborted love life, deflating genes, judges’ chambers,
movie night.
Bad movies in which the logic switch is turned off.
The end of faith in which acts of war are mistaken for religious acts.
Photographs in which the name and face don’t match.
Measurements in which the last significant digit is the Other.
Might as well go to market.
Might as well believe in that higher power.
Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
Written: 11/10/2025
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
So then the inmates are for me?
Or maybe not.
Am I my own enemy?
How I pace the rooms of my new house
making religious-like divots in the tile.
I guess that's a good question to ponder.
Self-isolation as I have in this pod.
The passing of black and grey thoughts.
While pacing I saw a butterfly charm last night
lying on my new kitchen floor.
Thought of friends and enemies
lost in time.
That Saturday afternoon when I thought about
breaking my freedom to assault an old friend upon
the shrine of tobit for the sake of revenge.
Now-a-days I have no enemies.
Even surrounded by cells housing maniacs,
monsters, criminals, car jackers and parole violators.
Everyone around me loves me.
If I was born in the animal kingdom I'd
be a capybara sitting with the
ducklings, cats and crocodiles.
The beautiful late night
with a computer screen in front of me
shines well and they are all asleep.
And I ask: "Am I ignorant? Knowing
more about Las Cruces than I should?"
For the man who's friends make friendly enemies
Seemingly gauche and unabridged.
I wink and say hush to confuse
only the company of myself.
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC
The day of my release
I walked the streets
Seeing the sky and the grass under my feet
It was weird, I was free
But not free from my memories-
They flee,
The people I once knew,
Can't look me in the eye
They know what I did,
But so do I, because everyday I relive-
All the things that haunt me
Every day's a clock, with no hands
Each minute strikes the soul like a match
How am I supposed to relive-
Relearn to live
The cars and the people
The dog on the corner,
He barks like crazy
But nothing will be as crazy as the thought
Maybe I want to go back to-
What was once my living doom
I was told to get a job
But right now crossing the street-
Feels like my head will pop
All the honks and the shouts
Who knew the world could be so loud
In confinement it was quiet
Because a noise too loud,
Could trigger a guard,
Beating us until,
the lights went out-
Showers and meals were on a schedule,
Now I have to decide for myself
And still I manage
I cross the street-
Not trying to vanish-
In my internal defeat.
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 10:39 AM UTC
How do you sit down and talk to your sister
and tell her that her Daddy has gone?
It's easier explaining the meaning of death
and why people die and draw their last breath.
But Daddy, he's gone to no peaceful heaven.
Instead he's in prison and serving a seven,
so how do you sit down and tell your own sister
the whys and the reasons her Daddy has gone?
"Listen, sis, you'll need to be strong.
Daddy has done something terribly wrong.
He's gone into prison for quite a long time,
and this is what happens when you commit crime."
"Daddy still loves us, he'll phone and he'll write,
ring you to wish you goodnight and sleep tight.
We can sit down together and write him a letter.
It'll make Daddy smile and make him feel better."
I tried telling my sister with emotional tact
the truth of the matter, but you can't hide the fact.
Her Daddy has gone and has gone for a while.
You can't say it with flowers or manage a smile.
So how do you sit down and talk to your sister
and answer her questions why Daddy has gone?
All you can do is just tell him your way
and pray to the Lord he'll be home soon one day.
Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 3:03 PM UTC
i was “born” without lungs
gasping for air
and while they grieved for me
i pushed air throughout my body.
june 20, 2024, 6pm.
you did the bare minimum
and i have been obsessed with you.
months. you, of all people.
and when i have told my friends they said
“him, of all people?”
april 29, 2025 and many days before that
my friends called me a *****
that word is red and bold and ****** and italic and underlined and highlighted and- *****
im 14.?
to all the mothers out there- god(?) bless your hearts,
how would you imagine
your daughter
a ***** (i know im not, but what am i if not society’s opinions?)
…November (?) 2021 until now (every moment every second of my waking and sleeping being)
i think about it.
i think about him.
he should be in jail
and he probably has a girlfriend
a wife
kids
by now.
i’ll never forget what that “man” ( if you can even call him that ) did to me
and i wonder if i told my friends
whore-callers!
what he did to me
i wonder what their faces would say
i want to see them shocked and cry and apologize for calling me a ***** (because i am not a ******* *****
…the things which i held in my palm
as a young child (was i a ***** then, did i come out of the womb “asking for it?”)
always seemed so large
but they are specks of sparkling stardust in my hands now
they seem so small. (were they always?)
I AM SICK AND TIRED (only a ***** would be tired) OF EVERYONE ELSE GETTING WHATEVER THE **** THEY WANT BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE HAS DETERMINED THAT THEY DESERVE THAT.
i wonder how many of our lives are determined by how others think of us
i wonder how many of us are others
society is not a singular being but something that is inside all of us
we are all society
(so you can all be ****** too.)
(or maybe just me.)
(just me.)
(me.)
-
-a something-year-old *****
Apr 30, 2025
Apr 30, 2025 at 12:13 AM UTC
In jail the shadows creep
And nobody goes to sleep
A thief dreams of treasures to keep
But the bars hold him tight
In the cage day and night and
As he counts all the sheep he can’t leap.
Apr 21, 2025
Apr 21, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC
I can't move to you, you can't move to me
You are not here, I'm not free
I see only walls, I see only floor
My dear love, knock on my door
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 5:52 PM UTC
Are we free anymore? I’ve asked myself lately,
Sure, it seems so, but a few things are shady,
Well, more than a few; in fact most of our lives
Are controlled and well-governed like dogs kept on lines.
Last week my own neighbor was caught and arrested
For owning plants curing her cancer, depression,
Science speaks truth but the Law doesn’t mind
Their care is your sentence, not the healing inside.
We’re ruled by fear, I’ve come to conclude
It’s limiting consciousness, limiting mood
Forced to pay off all those bills in the mail
Or they’ll haul you away to community jail.
It’s not always this way—look at it like this,
We do have a large sum of freedom as kids,
We can eat, speak, dress, and play how we please
Before the real world arrives, subjugating this ease.
“Get good grades in school, be quiet, and listen,
Better cut the tomfoolery or end up in prison,
Repent all your sins or you can’t go to Heaven”
...Are drilled in our heads by the time we reach seven.
Yes, it is fear; now much clearer to me,
Yet sadly too subtle for the masses to see,
Some of us hope that things will get better,
So we dogs may finally stray from our tether.
Jan 31, 2025
Jan 31, 2025 at 8:12 PM UTC
We all saw it
We all heard it
We all read it
And smelled it.
Meanwhile Deedeepee is rotting in jail
For probably having committed a similar crime
Some do the crime and others don’t do the time
Similarly, some go to Heaven and others go to Hell.
The world smelled it
The world read it
The world heard it
And we saw it.
Some people are above the law
Some people are found to have no fault
Somewhere, God needs to tight the bolt
So all can hear the unwonted song of the crow.
No jail time, no fine and no probation
However, we all felt the humiliation
For God’s sake, an Honorable Christian like Jimmy
Would have never been in such a gnarly quandary.
We all smelled it
We all read it
We all heard it
And the world saw it.
No further explanation
We wonder if justice was done
No further condemnation
History is always fair, just and fun.
The world heard it
The world read it
The world saw it
And we smelled it.
Copyright © January 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Jan 12, 2025
Jan 12, 2025 at 8:17 AM UTC
I sit in the day room of
cell block one in the county jail at
4: 30 am. It's quiet, almost serene.
All the other inmates are asleep.
I wait for breakfast: two hard-boiled eggs,
a doughnut, juice, and milk.
Once a week we can order books.
They will deliver them today.
I'll get Bukowski, Steinbeck, and Cervantes.
The remaining six days will
fly by.
When I'm released, I'll go under
the bridge—steal wine and
stay drunk.
I'll eat every three or four days.
It's January with record-setting
frigid temperatures.
Survival will be a challenge.
There will be an ex-girlfriend to
contend with.
I'll try to get what little
clothes that I left at her place,
that is if she didn't throw them away;
she's somewhat of a **** like that.
My two best friends who stayed under
the bridge with me, died a day
apart two months ago,
so, nothing but
ghosts and memories there now.
I'm going to miss jail.
Dec 16, 2024
Dec 16, 2024 at 11:31 AM UTC
Though I'm not in jail it all just feels the same
Waking up depressed told just not to complain
A shotgun to my head i feel like Curt Cobain
Not a literal sense, but the context sustains
I don't want money, success, not even some fame
I just want to learn to play this game
Each day it gets hard i just keep breathing
Wondering how the **** this happened, it feels like treason
From a comical skeptic to a reliable source
I question the water that was gave to the horse
Viewed as a sinner but always in doubt
"Read from the scripture and figure it out"
Nightmares keeping me awake like a proxy
SO many bad thoughts I wish I could get off me
Do your 12 steps Bob, everything is kosher
Yet I wake every night screaming still sober
A stranger does the same, and everyone wants to know her
A technicality set, a glimpse for closure
Different from most but related to some
I feel alone but second to none
Shaking again always be the **** up
"drinkings a sin" Always press my luck up
Some things I will never understand
But if it doesn't change I will be ******
Apr 19, 2024
Apr 19, 2024 at 11:48 PM UTC
Today my son
Is to be sentenced
To prison. He
Lives 23 hours a day
In a jail cell, he will move on
Steeling courage few of us
Ever have to experience.
Consider your luck.
His mental illness
never to be a crime.
Will there be light for a prism?
Where he can turn to
Other pathways
Less dark and Forge
Himself into the open
Blue sky and all the rainbows
From here on out.
On the outside we are blind
On the inside some
Are given true sight.
I cry for a rotten system
In mental health care
We own. You might
Want to pull up some buckets
For all mothers tears
Knowing the best we have
Is incarceration. How is that
America? Tired of blaming anyone but yourself?
Feb 5, 2024
Feb 5, 2024 at 9:35 AM UTC
Are you toxic or broken
Misunderstood or clearly spoken
Are you fragile, reckless or both
...Is there still hope?
I know I can't save you
Can't bail you out
I can't carry you a single step of the way
But can I perhaps
Support the change?
Can I be present for you
Can I show you grace
Could I perhaps just
See again, your smiling face?
If I stopped here, and waited a while
Would that be okay
Could you understand
My need to keep you at bay
Because I love you, I do
But I'm so afraid
To be hurt again
I'm scared to know you
But that's all I want, too.
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 8:18 AM UTC
He was in his cell
Twenty three hours a day
Never was he an animal
Yet treated as such
The echoes off the walls, bounce
The metal doors that clang, bang
Endless boredom after
All the books are read
He paces his eight feet
Gray dulls the senses
Lack of color, lack of life
He saw a bug inside
The other day, alive
Looking up at him
Another form of life, different,almost brand new
His voice filled with hope through the Pauses
It rained and the summer was hot
They were released for the hour
Choices that are made in that precious time
He went outside where there is only the cement
Laid on his back, spread his arms like an eagle, like an offering
Letting the rain Fall onto him,
just so He could feel Something
Feb 1, 2024
Feb 1, 2024 at 9:38 PM UTC
Tonight I will
Enjoy my bed
While you lay in yours
I wonder if you regret it all
After the first night when guards closed the doors
When you were on the inside
With absolutely nothing you could do
I still can’t believe the time has come
Punishment for the destruction that comes with you
I never thought it’d be real
You understanding what it feels like
To be a powerless prisoner
Giving everything you got- to still lose the fight
Do you lose sleep over me
Putting you where you belong
Do the voices in your head still tell you I’m in the wrong?
I wonder how many months
It will take to break your spirit
All you have is your thoughts
How many memories till you hear it
The muffled screams, my terrified eyes
Or are your memories filled with stories saying I’m the bad guy
Blaming your true colors on account of being high
While you looked down at me on the floor, beating me just enough not to die
Are you angry with me because I got away?
If you could see me tomorrow do you know what you would say?
I think you would walk right past me
Without even a look
Making me feel like I was nothing
It’s the biggest play from your book
I think about this often
If I had the chance, what would I say
I forgive you for making the biggest mistake of your life
Knowing I’m the one that got away
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 4:45 AM UTC
You can hear them scream at night,
the men, locked in,
over at the hate factory.
It's a kind of purgatory.
A winter time
for the mind.
No light gets in.
No love either.
But you can see it all below
through the bars
on the window.
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 10:51 AM UTC
I sit here in
county jail sporting the
orange jumpsuit and I
write more poems and
memoirs in a week than
I’ve written in a year.
It feels ******** when
I’m pounding out the
word and the line.
When you’re homeless and
the temperature is minus ten,
jail isn’t a punishment,
it’s a reward.
I got busted for public intox two days in
a row, and again three
weeks ago.
The state remembered—they
recommended 30 days,
the judge gave me two weeks.
Every time I go to jail
I’m very drunk,
and by morning I’m
coming down hard.
I remind the guards of
my predicament—the danger of
withdrawal seizures.
They say, “We are aware of
your condition, Mr. Case.”
And within a couple of
hours
I’m on Librium,
making detox bearable.
Within a couple of days the
drunken haze dissipated
and the need to create returned.
I got their tiny safe
pen (impossible to stab someone with),
and I went to work.
I looked out my little
window in my cell and I
saw a male bald eagle gliding
lazily over downtown.
I felt as free as he was.
Feb 28, 2023
Feb 28, 2023 at 8:02 AM UTC
Three burly sheriffs showed
up at my neighbors
house yesterday.
Scowls on scarred faces.
Tattered lives, tarnished
brains.
Five minutes later,
they were walking my
friend out in handcuffs.
He shuffled, head down.
Autumn frowned and the
leaves scuttled away in
disgust.
Today, the vultures swooped
in, picked the bones of all
his earthly possessions that
littered what was once his
front lawn.
Jackals, and hideous
hyena faced men and
women took the last of
his things.
Even though he was
arrested, he still
grows.
and although they are
free, they die more
daily in their own
private evictions.
I've seen more
humanity at a
hanging.
Nov 30, 2021
Nov 30, 2021 at 1:39 PM UTC