Mercy

Black man with white confidence

black man with white competence

black man with white common sense

Black man with white consonance

Black man on a white continent

black man with black consciousness

black man with white accomplishments

black life like condiments

on a white plate with corporate ambiance

I think I need to change my audience

maybe too much slang in my audio

I dream too much about an Audi tho

now u see me, then Adios

pick a different topic Russ

nope, I rather ruffle feathers

the audacity of being bold and black

especially because I’m a felon

I’m best friends wit the best white people

my other friends don’t understand white people

I got white friends that think black is swag

ignorance is bliss, imagine that

I been living two different lives

I been looking with two different eyes

both sons half me and white

so I’m still scared if they seem them lights

pause a moment for tamir rice

past traumas, can’t sleep at night

all I seen I can’t unsee

I used to never know the magnitude

of how I looked from other people looking at me

but I had to change my attitude

cuz I learned that there are always people looking at me

I got a voice, and now I’m trying to use it

because if I stay silent then I am useless

and theres no difference between white and black

but fear keeps us too ignorant from analyzing that

–

I always been an activist at heart, like a starter kit

rebel like I’m Spartacus

fingers touch my palm and wrist

cuz I only used to ball my fist

wasn’t much for politics

until I seen the parlor tricks

then I seen the Moses side, had to find my part in it

I was living subsidized, in and out apartments

in need of escape so I saw with Harriet Tubman eyes, but conquered by these parliaments

life blows had me pulverized, but I’m still defying Parkinsons

crack my knuckles, arthritis, damaging my cartilage

kill dreams and take my rights, maybe whispered in their caucuses and now I have sons to rise

pray they wont be carcasses from the cough of a cops cartridges

–

Prison made me prejudice

but my best friends and support system are mostly white, even my sons mothers but prison made me prejudice

try putting a curmudgeon of different crimes, cultures, colors and contain them in

one circumference forcing them to be cordial with each other

yea prison made prejudice

because I not only have to pay attention to materials but physical colors and

customs combined with cordoned off corners and coordinated politics enforced

with a communal consequence

I swear prison made me prejudice

because I have to deal with the Mexicans that hate blacks behind their backs, the swastikas on white people worn as tats,

the fact that whites and Mexicans have a pact if there’s an attack, along with the staff that over reacts to areas with a mass of blacks so its common sense

that I can never let my guards down with any confidence

on the defensive is my regular state of consciousness

separated from society, with an endorsed separation from other cultures entirely, this double

jeopardy jeopardized me with consequences of my consequence

no lie, I feel prison made me prejudice

and even racist at times

with the disproportionate time-

given, with records that don’t qualify

that I can visually quantify

and seeing all these tattoos scribed

with white pride and brown pride

but if I venture to study my history and show black pride

it seems im outfitted with another crime

c.o.’s and administration, I feel as if they have ties

with the other sides

picking sides

because their methods of compromise

that somehow always ends up with black peoples demise

american history all over again, what a surprise

sinister systems synchronized

segregation optimized

slavery ended, so now prison lives aren’t sympathized

this is not statistical intel, this is something that you’d have to experience to describe

this is my life

if I had to pick a word to define

I’m institutionalized

inside of these institutional lies t

he things I go thru and witness with my own eyes

in the wrong area at the wrong time it would’ve costed my life

because everyone has a home they wanna get back to or this is their home so situations can quickly turn into me myself and I

these sides that are coerced to keep the prison running smoothly would say a few lives over many for the sake of control is a necessary sacrifice

yea I’m prejudice

its the only way I can survive

because in here when u look at me you starring at more than the color of my eyes

its better to be handicap than blind

besides trauma, losses, drama along with the many connotations subscribed, add a necessary prejudice and partial racism to the list of my titles after doing this time

on the bottom line

because I’ve lived as less of a person and more a subject subjected to bottom lines

ever since prison industries became private and monetized

and the healthcare commoditized

yea prison changes, it changed me

it infected my disconnection with gangrene

so all those things I had to cut off only served to further chain me

maybe more people should see that certain consequences perpetuate added consequences and they’d be more apt to change things

and less quicker to cage me

on a personal note, I still know more than a few good white people

though prison has me seeing them as white people

but I have black friends with different views because the truth is they never understood or seen good white people

so feel free to judge, but steer clear if we judge u back

prison changed and made me prejudice, socially I may be worse off, now imagine that

Can you Live without Freedom?

If not, then the question is,

Are you Free?

Since you breath, think, and feel,

then naturally you exist,

meaning you are only alive,

not that you have Lived.

What is Living worth to you?

What does Living mean to you?

So I ask, what, or how much would you sacrifice to find Tru Freedom and Happiness?

Also within that freedom,

you finally know and capture real love and contentment with life.

Or, would you rather to just be safe-

comfortable not risking what you already have regardless of whatever fulfilling unknowns you could gain along the way?

So, are you truly free and happy?

Are you willing to be?

Maybe you rather complain about the repetitive nature of disappointment you fall prey to, making no real hard moves to change your reality, because you fear the price that it may bear with it.

Tru Freedom is fearful.

Fear sent me to real prison,

being too stuck in my ways to brave another path outside of my sight and knowledge.

Tru Freedom,

what does that mean?

What would that look like? Do you even wanna know?

To contemplate flight, you would have to understand what has you grounded.

So to contemplate Freedom, you have to understand what has you imprisoned, what has you doing time?

Is it solely internal, meaning just you? Or is it external, the weight of other’s judgement? Perception? Religion? Relationships? Love? Morals? Values? Work? Family? Life? Social Media? Societal Pressures? Expectations?

Either way, its still in your control, and the most important thing is that you realize it. Then you can find whatever Freedom means to you.

Or stop complaining and just be content if you don’t desire to work to change the conditions of the time we all face and endure.

Perspective, someone is always going through worst than you. Once you have more control over your life-the things you absorb and believe in, then share it. Once you’re Freed, then its the company you keep that helps you maintain that Freedom.

Tru Freedom is slave to Choice.

Choose to Free yourself, or be imprisoned by everyone else.

I’ve already partially escaped the prison that you’re facing,

now I’m waiting patiently to walk out of this one that you see me in,

hoping I can be a beacon for those left in my wake,

and sadly,

those on the way.

T.R.U. Freedom- is

Transcendent,

Reflective, and

Uniting.

Whatever that means to you,

grab it,

and never let go,

because the world doesn’t mind keeping you in bondage.

What am I?

What, not who, because when things get and got bad, I’m treated more like a what, and not a who.

So, what am I?

A collapsing building, a spiraling/crashing plane, or a sinking ship?

I mean I can hear it how certain people talk or respond to me…

as if I should be so lucky to have their attention since I’m in prison…

or like I’m damaged goods and served better at a distance or no contact at all as if I’m toxic or contagious…

or like they always knew my potential, and now its safe to acknowledge me again now.

But then there’s those few, that never lost sight of me, never lost faith in me, and have always and continue to talk to me like a who.

A who that is still important to them, a who that isn’t reminded of the where I reside or what I did, but the how I’m salvaging the wreck that was me.

Whether a collapsing building, a crashing plane, or a sinking ship..

they’ve stayed around and never abandoned,

believing that one in a million chance of survival was possible and worth the risk in staying around, knowing that it would be alright and better on the other side and honestly, they just wanted front row seats to the process.

Because hearing it second hand, or coming back around Kate just wouldn’t have been as satisfying.

When things go bad, we’re reminded who we are, in the eyes of those we believed believed in us. Those closer than most that we said we loved…

I’m not toxic anymore, but still just in case, to keep yourself safe, do us both a favor and stay at a distance. I have just enough around me, which happened to be the only ones I needed, no one can do it alone.

Shout out to my first responders and first ridiculers, you showed me who, not what, I am, and more importantly, you showed me you, Priceless! Which is good, because coming out of prison I’ll be needing to spend a lot of money that I don’t have yet starting all over, Sheesh! Dodged one!

Prison wisdom: Fuck what they say, watch what they do.

I wonder…

Why is the misery of people or an animal, a source entertainment or income for a branch of societies that would almost seem like puppet masters.

Like a zoo, taking animals outside of their natural habitat for our amusement.

Or what if you threw a steak or a gazelle in a lions den full of hungry lions with a camera, that’d be great right?

Or what about gladiators in Rome?

What about black men in low income areas pitted against each other for limited resources where competition and crude survival instincts are endorsed only to end with their deaths or imprisonment where they fight in that gladiators arena until freed or for a life time…

Are you not Entertained?!

Yea we have a problem.

We’re sick, complaining about the symptoms of our virile system, but love the show and profits!

America, The New Rome