Dates..
they don’t only tell you where you’re at, but where you were
but I always lose count of them because I mean
my memory sucks
and plus they are just days-
moments that pass away like mortality-
with its limited heartbeats,
and decaying bodies disposed of into the vast memory bank of the past
well, at least until something so tremendous or tragic happens
forcing your mind to remember what you felt and where you were…
you know those “where were you when..?” moments,
like 9/11 or Obamas’ inauguration or for that matter, Trumps
for so many years
I had the greatest perspective point at those personal historic moments
that place I always happened to occupy was sobering
personal reflection became life it seems
well if you haven’t guessed already
this great seat I’ve occupied for nearly a decade is-
prison
a place for sour sore asses
but life is about action
everyone wants to be near it
so they have a story to tell
feeling as if they were a part of the thrill
but the thing about a seat is
all you can be is in a spectator’s position-
dependent and passive it seems,
like movie goers,
you cant alter whats being shown on the screen,
you can only view, absorb, and react in this position
I feel helpless to life like a paraplegic
I just watch it happen all around me,
powerless
stripped of any authority and assertion to change anything-
in any minuscule or grandly favorable way
I’m rendered ineffective and defenseless to and by circumstance
who am I even at that moment?
certainly nothing and no one of any specialness
unable to have invoke any cause
or effect
on the comings and goings of things that both directly
and indirectly
affect me,
because of my view and therefore my lack of attendance
my presence is but a fleeting memory
held onto by few and far between
as for who am I, a question I solemnly asked moments ago,
I’m a nobody, transparent, a ghost
I can see the physical world but I can’t touch
nor change it
and I can’t move on because I cling to the life I had,
those that knew me
and not wanting to be forgotten
so I’m not ready to let go…
yet
I feel like background noise
like the tree that fell in the forest with no one around to hear
though it happened,
the world is going on in a way that feels like it doesn’t know
nor care that I see it happening,
because it has no plans to slow
so still it goes about its business
as I watch
and wonder
second hand, passively in the background
resigned to a fate I can only be told of afterwards
because I’m not there
I haven’t been for so long
just like that decaying body living on in mind solely
but dead to the naked eye
I’ve seen the world from a prison
my prison
i’ll let that paradox settle for a bit
I’ve watched life happen and pass me by
days renewed
then aged like ripe grapes fermenting into fine wine
damn I love wine
I’ve seen the world behind walls
as if I see thru walls yet remain unseen
I’ve heard news and stories second hand
its never the same when you’re told things
its like you always have to be there
even if just to feel it
or a piece is always missing
for both story teller and listener
you just gotta be there
otherwise life becomes the telephone game
and I’m left to discern the truth
envisioning the in betweens
piecing together all the fragments of a puzzle
a puzzle I’m so withdrawn and far from
oh
and on January 26
I was in my seat when Kobe died
is life even real at that point?
distantly I cried about a man’s fatality
because his life gave meaning to the shell of a man I had come to feel like
or the ghost I had become
and he never knew me
nor I him
but from far away
the stories passed on
made me feel right there
just like the best movies and books
but how can a hero-a symbol, die?
while you struggle to live on
feeling every bit of dispensable dead forgotten and see through
besides the life legacy and example their existence provided for you
but now who are you?
I?
sometimes I really hate the word hope
it sounds like help
hopeless sounds like helpless
so hope is helpless
because hope is a surrender
in some way
no matter how you twist it
because you have no control
and so you hope
you give in
give up
and hope you get
or gain something somehow
I’m helpless
oh and my sons
one I haven’t seen
nor spoken to while I’ve been in my seat
and even before for some time
too long for any apparent parent father dad or whatever you call me
and in August of 2018
I was in my seat
when my youngest first met me
what position huh
his latest 3 wishes were
to see me
wanting me out of jail now
and to play football with me
asking when am I getting out
clearly annoyed
he just read to me for the first time
January 31
on the phone
while I was in this great seat
I cried happy sad tears
what I’ve given up as a father being seated
just can’t be measured
and its all my fault
I live knowing my sons suffer in a way because of my absence
their mothers cant quite see it
maybe because they see it as a knock on them being there the whole time
as if I’m unneeded
I get it
but even worst
I’m Helpless to anything life can bring upon my sons
like the world being told of Kobe’s fate
in this passenger’s seat
like he was
where I can only be told, absorb, then react
what can be more painful then feeling like a paraplegic parent
of your own doing
while your kids still grow and face life
and the world still moves on despite your absence…
do I even exist?
dates…
what’s the point?
when a date helps keep track of the present
but what about when you aren’t present
where are you then on the calendar?
too far in the past
or too far in the future?
for once
being stuck
in the middle
that great grey area
the in between
purgatory
sounds much more appealing
because everything else-
too far out of reach
and I don’t even know whose reaching anymore
the world
my kids
me
or just-
memories
irony being my drive
which pushing me to live life beyond being a spectator
but for that drive
still has me sitting shotgun
or backseat driving
dates…
don’t get me started on birthdays and holidays
Inside
kobe was in prison
Kobe was in prison
I mean obviously he wasn’t in prison right
…was he?
but seriously
his impact reached beyond and within these walls
people die
that’s a wretched promise of life
though memory preserves like formaldehyde
there’s just something different when a legend dies
something different happens to you when a symbol dies
in prison especially
and specifically
we live by our creeds, ethos, and symbols
just like the our country’s oaths and pledges
but what makes legends
are those that have innovated themselves into symbols
transcending the boundaries of day to day values
serving as high form examples of that you wish to be
helping you both escape and believe
believing anything is possible
for even yourself
with just the right application of ethos and ethic…
work ethic
you’ve come to form your new identity around
Kobe’s successes and way of life spoke to every human being
from the hard working
to the highly gifted
and even the vastly hopeful unjaded imaginations of children
he showed that no matter the fall you can still rise
and if you are truly inspired and dedicated
than anything is attainable
and there’s always more to be done and no excuses to be had
he poetically placed process within the lines of progress
its intricacies to not be forgotten but embraced and loved
because that’s the dream
when you love the process
you live and realize the dream
Kobe made me believe that prison wasn’t a death sentence
there was still more,
another life or resurrection for me
that I too could succeed
and still be more than just a con
as long as I could adjust my mentality
incorporate discipline
fortress will
and never cheat the process
understanding the fundamentals of any path I pursued
all the while
constructing an impenetrable internal system of resilience
no matter what happened outside of me
if can stay focused on what I can control
then nothing would be too far from my grasp
and the realm of probability
whether I was gifted with the upmost ability
or mediocre
what makes the difference is the work put in
the passion
not the complaints filed
because we all go thru struggle
and suffer in our own way
In prison, we live and die by our symbols
and what they mean to us
we inhabit both unity and separation within rank and file
in order to survive this habitat
so we’re especially keen on personalized meanings relating to any codes
which we believe in
it’s authenticity adds something tangible and worthwhile to ourselves
and this wretched life
we maintain discipline behind those passions and beliefs
Kobe was such a belief system all of himself
that I felt in my soul that one of my belief pillars had been martyred
and I’m here left in his wake
in this morbid and mournful aftermath
wondering…
was it his message that stuck with me so potently
or the visual he exemplified which impacted me so purposefully
or maybe it was both his talk and walk I respected most
which i’ve had to swallow as a loss
though in hopes of hanging on
I now savor with a poignant after taste on my tongue-
along with it’s sour putrid smell of mortality
challenging me to answer the call
to not only admire
but now embody
then I ask myself
will it stick?
will his absence last in me beyond the moment
will it become my existence and not fall in vain
forming a bitter cleft in my mind
but unsheath like a samauri’s sword
for this generation of believers
and those to come
to work for their dreams and not just pray on them
waiting as if we’re all so helpless
I ponder what evolutions I will
or could make
now that I’ve been so sourly reminded how short life really is
I mean, do I really care about how short life is
willing myself to pick up the slack
and become prodigy or pupil to a master and mastermind’s memory
will I keep in mind and continue to see the sign
siezing the day
seizing the moment
or am I just caught in the excitement and moment
like our culture and its sensationalism
do I have the intestinal fortitude
to challenge myself every one of my waking hours
accepting nothing but the pursuit of excellence
striving for perfection
denouncing fears and excuses
empowering myself and others
choosing to believe over hope
choosing to align my thoughts speak and actions
or is this another sign that I,
like many of us,
get in our lifetimes that only wakes us for the instant
and then we fall back into a snooze and deep sleep
forgetting everything we had just learned upon being ‘woke’
I can only hope I can carry on the example
in my own way
of such a great man
that wasn’t above reproach
but also wasn’t below redemption
we can’t allow the moment
nor our emotions
to become friendly fire-
persecuting ourselves us
we have to be emboldened
by the response of our emotions to the moment at hand
creating an arc
leading us to a new civilization within ourselves
where we now survive from learned lessons of our yesterdays
knowing in moments time it can all be gone
with no reason or warning
suddenly carving out a whole in our core
as vast as a blackhole
making us feel even darker,
exempt of all light like a lunar eclipse
but aye…
all that for another day
Kobe was in prison yaw!
and because of him
I know one day yaw will say…
Russ was in prison
full circle
but as of now,
I am not yet who I am
because I am still becoming who I will be
and that example started from Mamba Mentality
God I Really Need an Anchor
God I really need an anchor
lately I been feeling anger
rising to the surface my mirror depicts a stranger
I been trying to do different but I’m caught up in the wrong angles
still struggling to understand everything u put me thru tho I don’t wanna blame ya so I’m not pointing fingers
its just that the people around me, live more for the symbol of their twisted fingers
and I get caught in the middle amongst my other hang ups
mirror reflections projecting a stranger
veering from sections that direct me to danger
standing in pride puddles soakn my ankles
copn when recorded cordphones get tangled
how can I be a leader if they rather I lead them to war
their problems lead me away from calls where I find respite talkin to real loved ones in order for them to settle a score
but I can’t fault them tho, there aint too much to do really so problems become dug up whenever ur bored
I’m soaked in all these fuckin pissin contest amongst lions seeing who has the loudest roar
and I swear I can roar with the best of them, u as my witness but I quit that years ago
its hard looking out on this yard and believing in miracles
those closest to me don’t even believe, they rather lay their faith in a finished product
and only venture to listen or talk to me when its more convenient for them but I accept it as needed company if I’m being honest
they can’t see who I used to be, and who I am now
versus my destiny that I’m somehow tryna plan out
but they’ll be around later with their hearts and demands out
trying to flip things making me feel guilty with their hands out
Im struggling, omg I swear I struggle
this part is for u, yaw know who u are when I said it I meant it I swear that I love u
but that’s just not good enough huh when I’m not close enough to help u out or even touch u
delayed gratification has became my strength but you allow it to crutch u
pain and the pressures of life proffer promise and purpose but yaw allow it to crush u
I went thru so many names I’ve forgotten who I was way before I came here, forget an alias that made me alien just call me Russell
never mind again call me young russ-resilent under stressful situations
or better yet, WayOfLife, becuz even now, I just live thru it, and thru-out my limitations
I call out from this box when Im in need of ventilation
but how come I’m seen as the sick one but I get on the phone and try to be patient, but I just happen to be the one that’s not the patient
deep down I love her god, but I don’t think that she notice
I also love her too respectfully but deep inside she’s a cobra
I love them too but they selfish with no belief and no culture
oh and I love them too and tho they free, they ain’t living life, they’re just inside of a coma
I guess I love easy and fall hard, the characteristics of anyone lonely enough hiding behind a fasade
I try loving those that its toughest to but love aint always kosher
I try living to love, but all I know is fighting these wars inside of myself that I scribe inside of my poems
what’s life, but choices made from a bunch of conflicting moments
I need u but don’t go to you in those moments when u could make me the strongest
I see prison as my platform but I struggle to own it
my perception and my persona keep me feeling lonely
I think I miss my mom, and maybe the raw feeling of love
too many years I been numb, but relationships always work to both break u and heal u up
could any woman even truly wait and not let another man feel her up
speaking like a man, saying she got needs too, but she still in love
and what about that estrange relationship between a father and his son
my son said I was a bad boy today cuz I’m in jail
I said u right but daddy is in grown up timeout trying to get well
I told him u have to love, listen forgive, and be nice then u can have it all
he listened and showed me real love, I challenge adults to do the same, see he wasn’t mad at all
he told me to hold on so he can put his socks, then came back and listened
its funny how we handicap our kids trying to hide things to keep them safe but the are more resilient and really they pay attention
he’s 6 when I asked him does he know what I do everyday he said that I wear the same thing everyday, ha how would he know
I corrected him saying I got sweats and stuff too but those were just my visiting clothes
I also workout, do my homework and try to help others
one minute left, we said our goodbyes, shared a kiss and said we love each other
if all ur wrongs are lesser than mine, than maybe u should see how u sound trying to compare and name one
responsibility, fault and pride are hard concepts, i used to struggle with blame, I rather not blame but everyday I accept being the blamed one
how can YOU change but somehow in your head accept me as incapable of change and being the same one
I wouldn’t say it out loud, I’m more passive and forgiving now, but I listen to so many from the stand point of me being crazy yet I feel like the only sane one
sirens and violence and riots im on autopilot reading signs and minds doing time times hard times,
rewind, remind me of a past I keep behind to hopefully keep my silence inside of me…shhhh
prison will make u a sociologist with sociopathic behavior
worst moments have me on the other side of a conscientious russian roulette bullet chamber
in prison I’m an indentured slave, fighting for freedom and favor
listening to my siblings vent of how we’ve ventured as strangers
voices in my head screaming hearing their pain in my absence but before it exits my mouth those voices are strangled
I can’t let certain emotions show while these waves are rocking and rising even though I can’t swim, and this prison cruise ship is tainted
I played enough with fate and im not feeling any braver
standing strong for so many years on a wavy foundation
guilt from my mistakes, I tried saving so many, joked about how I’m a ‘captain save a’
but now im in need of a savior
so like I said, God I really need an anchor.
My Two Sons
My two sons are so beautiful but my past is so ugly tho my future is starting to resemble every bit of beauty that my kids are
figuring out how to piece together being a distant imprisoned father is like a jigsaw
so in my own heart I connect with them by staying up on all the latest Pixar
animal past, animated man, animation blaring on my TV screen, first thing seen, coming in from the big yard
Moana on freeform tonight, I’ll catch my other shows later
because I need to know the names of some of these movies in case I’m ever asked which one is my favorite
Buy a few songs from the movie, memorize them so I can sing along
I been through real prison moments, but these ones specifically are what make me feel strong mentality of being a father first and an inmate last
helps propel me beyond my past
shaping me for the day I walk beyond this grass
hugging my kids for what seems like seconds comparatively to the minutes engaged after the longest years apart, thinking why now does time suddenly fly so fast
then my mind goes back
to those moments without and wanting this one to last
yet worried if it’ll ever return like so many dependable ghosts from my past tears arrive on the crest but I have to subside and hide those back
telling my sons “I love you” and hearing them like “dad, I know that”
but deep down inside knowing they really don’t yet, full of blissful child-like innocence just enjoying the company of a man they naturally love that their mother’s once considered a psychopath
be present Russ, don’t fade like the past you
emote, project love, don’t let them feel that doubt cycling inside you
embrace showing them where they get it from, that missing link and how much you are just like them priceless the moment when they realize the me that’s deep inside them
I may have not been there to teach them to ride bikes but I’ll be there to ride right beside them striving to maintain love and excitement just like them
real parents learn from their kids while teaching them away from the wrongs we’ve already paved
I been there and done that sons, so you don’t have to guess now, you know what this looks like, please don’t go that way
one day I may watch my sons dance on stage, score touchdowns or pitch no hitters
but wherever they are that I can see, I’ll make sure to also be there when they are feeling the loneliest
my future passions mirror my dreams now,
and they no longer feel like pieces of a jigsaw because put together they paint such a beauty resembling every bit of perfection that my kids are
I can’t wait to live life and love wit yaw
run rave and reel a few Pixar’s
or movies for big boys and take a few pictures
wrestling around disguised as dads big hugs
but I won’t pretend whenever I kiss yaw
sippin milkshakes thru big straws
I missed the rocket games like 5 4 3 2 1 lift off!
daydreaming of future days with u two I tend to drift off
ever since i met then left u I been having withdrawals
parenting comes with flaws
but I see none within yaw
I pray u won’t be bitter but better
because I know where you’re headed
sons, real love isn’t measurable
so never let anyone’s conditional or lack of love measure u
I love you Josiah and Treyvan.
Prison Door
you!
I know your truth
I live inside your labyrinth of secrets
clever the walls you’ve set up to hide
yea you withhold just as much guilt from innocence as I
projecting your cloak of iniquities upon the labelled and lesser
self righteous in your makeup
you pretend to be this line of salvation and wreckage
this boundary between good and evil
a line of scrimmage for justice and criminals
protecting those that have been wronged
by the wrong
as if they too were never wronged
though you are built on this standard of correction
but more like a base line of opposition
the wars going on outside of you
are just as bad as the ones going on inside of you
but the world inside of you
is but a microcosm of the world outside of you
pretending to be this barrier between the civilized
and the savages
protecting the priveleged
from the indigent
facading as a moral platitude of righteousness
keeping the harmed safe from harmony
though the idea of you erects itself high above reproach
your moral compass has long since been broken
mirroring the fragmented sounds that occupy you
your par agonize lines of justice are made up
fabricated by a false sense of security
and it’s discriminating qualifiers of-
the right
and the wronged
life inside you has lost its humanity purpose and worth
though you find worth
monetarily at least
or you’d too, have no purpose
because you’ve showed as much that
humanity is but a blurred line
a clear line that you draw.
Detached
Losing touch
everything happening so fast
but at a distance
communication without connection
thinking has become mechanic
taking the humanity out of interactions
everything isn’t made to be fixed
some things function better broken
why seek the broken to fix them
I rather blend in
and in that,
we all heal
because pain
is more than a subject concept or algorithm
its an experience
and some experiences
don’t beg for answers
nor opinions and expertise
just a like spirit that gets it
communing through-
understanding, time
communication,
empathy,
and connection
rather understanding, then navigation
instead of a diagnosis I
don’t want to be fixed
nothing is wrong with me
what’s wrong
is that you may think there is
and that’s what needs fixing.