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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Ill Lawsdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Vasudeva
    ASL Info:    43/M/irrelevant
    Elite Ratio:    5.12 - 24/27/23
    Words: 273
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 673
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2036



    Description:
       My brother is "in." (As they say. BC "no one" is guilty in jail). His "cellie" is a Native American.
    This is based largely on what my bro has told me.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsIll Lawsdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Cherokee.
    The cool air smells of sweetgrass.
    Mint Absinthe.
    One sock on one sock off.
    He's beginning to roll it.
    The sounding of

    Sirens! Bam!
    "In"
    as they say.
    Four Years to go.
    He could never escape.
    The new system has certainly given
    a lot of time to kill.
    One eye is weeping.

    Here comes Fall.
    Still inside.
    Being watched
    at all times.

    An outspoken prisoner.
    Detached from his contemporaries.
    Learning.
    How to survive?
    How to prosper?
    He tells the other prisoners:
    "I was poor as you are.
    I rose in 18 months.
    in a house 7 x 10.
    And I ain't got a gun."

    "Oh it doesn't matter.
    I wanted him.
    Enforced reasoning.
    That set something off.
    They cast their blood on the waters
    Now they are both Positive.

    "What kind of life is this
    that we are leading?"

    Scared with the talk of death.
    Paper knives and plastic cups
    would have this body bowed
    These red-brown fingers rotting."

    How it is?
    The murderous blast
    dripping blood onto concrete
    as the dreaming feet subdued
    in an ancient sacrifice.

    Without sound.
    and late, green wings
    of the dead

    Silent and dark.
    Grief wiped them off,
    stained.
    Not forgiven.

    The institutional priest
    with a pistol in his hand,
    and a bloody blossom to his touch.
    Sleeplessly waiting, waiting.

    His Father was coming back.

    Catch him!
    The white cops shouting,
    rattling the locks and keys
    (Always. To show it's "us"
    and them)."
    (The same goes for both sides).

    Never stopping to unlock tears.




    Submitted on 2007-03-23 00:01:59     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




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    January 10 07
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