"Art Beyond Bars: Inmate Stories through Creativity"
"Explicit Content Advisory"
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Charles Nash
Desmen Best
Desmen Best
"Words Behind Bars: Inmate Poetry and Prose"
The Exposure Edition “We All We Got”
Coming from a place of no hope on a slave ship.
To the height of luxury and the White House as president
Our contribution to America is unprecedented.
I love it the way we did it.
I love it the way we are winning.
I got a special preference for beautiful, dark skin.
Cause no one else can feel the agony of where I’ve been.
I mean, who else can hope to overcome something that’s so complex, that is hard to even believe is really there?
I seek the company of brothers and sisters that know “The Struggle”, having strength to make it through.
Really all we got is each other.
Yeap
We all, we got.
Though, I’m a black man in a place that fears me, I’m putting words in the air now that people can hear me.
Let’s show them what we can do if we finally come together.
I want to be there for you, because all we got is each other.
Are you willing to do for me? Would you like to be done for you?
Are you ready to make a difference and help a brother get through?
If so, then let me know.
I’m on the edge of my seat.
and I’m patiently waiting on you.
So, I can get on my feet.
Credits: Jeremiah Alexander
“Directions to My Father’s House” a poem by Steven Pieper
Make a right turn on believeth blvd
Keep straight and go through the green light,
which is over troubled waters.
Once off the bridge, make a right turn, remain straight.
You’re now on the Kings Highway, heaven bound.
Keep going three miles, one for the Father,
one for the Son, one for the Holy Spirit.
Exit off onto Grace Ave.
From there make a right onto Gospel Lane.
Keep straight until you reach Prayer Road, turn right.
As you go on your way, yield not to traffic on Temptation Avenue.
Be sure to pass by Hypocrisy Street, Gossip Lane, Backbiting Circle.
Such pathways are route to Sinful Manor.
However, you have to go down Long Suffering Lane,
Persecution Blvd, and Trial & Tribulation Avenue.
But trust when I say to you all is right,
The corner of Victory St and Salvation St lie straight ahead!
Amen!
Song Entitled “A Chance” by Steven Pieper
*I know that I’m a sinner, Jesus Christ is my only need
His death is my redemption, there’s no way that He will mislead
I know the truth remains to be seen, We know that its come down to this
We all need a new start to begin, In the sinful world we’re in
Chorus;
Tell your brothers, tell the others,
That the good Lord is here
And make them realize, a chance at new life
That no one should ever fear
I’m not perfect, I’m just saying
Sometimes God can give us a chance
His word is truly amazing, It is Him that I can believe
We have a life eternal, The life I pray to receive
I know the truth remains to be seen, why are we so scared to embrace
Even the ones who do not believe, Will see and feel what God can be
(Chorus)
Sometimes God gives us a chance
Sometimes we all deserve a chance*
Love Chess
I know about Pain… sit & talk with me. Not moving living on hopes and Dreams…
Stolen moments in a few walks, this our fate? No
Yet somehow we found each other… So late in life, why now and not then…
I don’t have regrets, but I wish for a better future, not a bitter end…
Sit& talk with me, I’m stuck can’t move lost in Love , a dangerous game.
I know its inevitable. I’m going to lose… I played in my head many time’s.
You see love is chess, I can’t just make any kind of move..
I’ve already lost in love once before. Love is chess don’t make the wrong move..
Credits: Charles Guest
What is life?
If all I see is pain and the negativity how can I see the other side how can I see the love and the positivity. What is life?
L-love I-I F-feel E-everyday.
The love I feel and see now has help me fight through the pain.
Not subjected to the chains that use to link me to the past.
Now I’m breathing again!
Inhaling the future and exhaling the past.
Living life on my terms.
Just want to love and be loved. Cause I want to live. LIFE!!!!
Credits: Brandon Lockett
Miss U
I miss you….
I want to be with you forever…
I yearn for every inch of you…
But I crave so much more than just your physical connection….
I crave who you are and where you are from….
Your fears and Your desires…
I want us to make each other hungry for life nourishing each other’s souls…
I want us to support and equip each other in achieving our dreams and goals….
Honestly speaking….I want and need to know all the layers that make you you.
Credits: Charles Guest
Family
You showed me love during my many Trials and Tribulations.
You were there for me on those days my Heart was filled with so much Hatred.
To survive in prison, you motivated me to be patient.
You held my hand when I was scared of the Thunder.
You guided me across the ocean so I wouldn’t go under.
You made me a lion so I could make it through a jungle.
You all are the blood that keeps my Heart pumping.
Now that I’m in prison why does it feel like you all don’t Love me.
We all are Family, aren’t we supposed to be there for each other in the midst of a struggle.
Credits: Terrell Terry
Poem: S.L.I.C.K
In the overhead compartment,
no plane Correctional department can incarcerate fly thoughts,
especially when my mind full of “SLICK”.
“Stories Lost In the Consciousness of Karma”,
frames of minds where this beautiful artwork sits.
Hung on the walls of the brain,
making this gallery exhibit elegant,
unity is the only way humans can continue to exist.
On this or any planet,
Rap was my passion but that’s not how God planned-it,
being vulnerable is a gift & writing is my niche!
Credits: Desmen Best
“That Special Man”©
You ever went through life alone?
When no one even cared…….
about you, what you went through and stories you could share?
Were you ever trapped in a place,
that rendered you a slave.
That fed you slop, and made you work for free like every day?
I can’t explain the perils that come with being where I am.
I wish I had someone to talk to, to whom I’d be that special man…
that encourages you and inspires you,
to make your dream’z come true.
I’ll look past all your bad decisions,
’cause Lord knows I’ve made mine.
And help you move forwarded to a better future.
One where we’ll both shine.
But first I need you to reach out to me,
if only just to say hello.
And once you do that,
I’ll make it worth it. I’ll be who you’re looking for.
You want a friend?
I’ll be that.
You want a man?
we’ll get there.
If you just want to chat,
come talk to me.
And you won’t be disappointed……
I guarantee.
Credits: Jeremiah Davon Alexander
(Online Dating)
Behind the scenes’ Online Dating,
no Catfish cameras,
it’s the thrill, Intellectual stimulating,
and addictive like a pill.
When you’re not expecting anything,
but find someone Real.
It’s truly scarce,
finding someone like this still.
How do you fall for a person,
that you’ve never touched?
Soon as you hear this deep voice,
or that sweet utterance, all we can do is blush.
Prison doesn’t stop the card’s,
birthday & valentine gifts and stuff.
A huge peril or duties to others,
but it’s regular to us.
When you’re incarcerated but talented,
I call it making-money hand over cuffs.
When a single-Mothers’ had enough,
and looking for more than lust.
Prior situations get terminated; heart’s get crushed.
Something quintessential is better than social-media hearts & likes, far from a gold-digger,
you can buy your own car’s & ice.
When we communicate that’s currency,
when we’re apart it compounds,
the profit reinvested for more quality-time.
After years of oppression, my ulterior motive is to see us both shine.
Instantly attracted to photos & words,
pronouns, adjectives &verbs,
a smile, beautiful-eyes, gorgeous-face & some-curves, two “smart” like nerds.
Too “brilliant” to see the flaws & swerve,
our connection starts the moment you get that urge.
Let me try something new,
find someone who, who’s beyond cool, smooth,
a person that’s really “different”.
“Distinct” like when I talk,
they’re attentive enough to hear & listen.
Whether it’s maximum facilities, or in dorms fenced in.
From the inner-city,
overseas or the suburbs.
Who don’t entertain haters or critic’s,
and side-step the birds.
Where I’m at currently, isn’t where I’ll be 24-months from now.
Soon we’ll be permanently under the same roof, your tiara, me & my crown.
Confidence has me O. Ding,
in hindsight, how does this anniversary gift sound?
Credits: Desmen Best
Grave
I looked up at the sun and tried to photocopy the sun and its beauty for the very last time.
I sucked in all the air I could hoping my lungs could get a taste for its very last time.
I looked up at the sky hoping my eyes could see its Beautiful Blue sky.
He knew his whole life he knew since childhood he was wild.
The Big Bad Judge with a monster in his eyes just stood over his Grave of a sentence with a Smile.
In His eyes days, weeks and months fell followed by years, I cried so hard. I just fill my casket with tears. Watching what my life used to be I just continue to fall and fill this hole I was to lay in for the rest of my years.
My vision sees darkness, it just keeps getting darker and I can’t see, I can’t breathe, Judge with your Demon spirit what are you doing why are you doing this to me?
Judge, I can’t see, Judge I can’t breathe I lay inside the grave of a sentence like Mother, Father, Sister, Brother, Aunt can somebody stop these people from doing this to me. Is anybody remembering? I can’t see and I really can’t breathe, laying in this Grave of a sentence with no Sun to my Sunshine and no Rain to my Rainbows only Darkness lives here with me, only the darkness of a Judge is what I can See.
My life flashes before my eyes, I should have gone to college, I should have gotten a degree, I should have changed my ways, got married and had kids. How many, I think three.
I should have been wiser, I shouldn’t have smoked that weed now I’m trapped in a hole where I can’t see, or I can’t breathe this demon of a Judge who gave me all these years Mother.
I’m so scared Mother, can you please Help me?
Show me to be strong so I can finally face my fears. Remember I can’t see remember I can’t breathe and only darkness lives here with me only darkness I can see.
Until Exposure stuck their hand into my grave pulling me out of darkness like a young man be hopeful young man wipe those tears when we become mirrors of God, we show each other the best we can be the love changed me the compassion rescued me. When we become mirrors like God, we show each other the best we can be, love and compassion truly rescued me. So, I believe when you tell me this company opening up was a part of my destiny when you pull somebody out of a grave and show them the best they could Be.
You all took a Grave and turned it into a Garden for Me.
Credits: Terrell Terry
Picture US
Picture YOU,
no picture ME,
matter of fact Picture US.
1,000 words couldn’t describe it,
is it Love or lust?
Picture YOU with a camera in hand,
sitting in between your legs is a MAN,
no miles of separation,
or prison-walls between US.
This is beyond mere fancy,
and deeper than a crush.
Sexy sculptured legs over my shoulders,
bare witness to the appearance of my soldier,
my “Soldier of Love” like “Sade”,
exterior the same color as Folgers.
Coffee brown,
hair, body & beauty all natural.
My Queen gives birth to knowledge & wisdom,
that’s factual!
When you see the Caesar think King,
think God & Earth when you Picture US,
two true original beings.
Captured in the present,
in all our essence,
for future generations.
WE represent evolution,
resilience,
& historical black education.
Willie Lynch curse breaker’s,
true inspiration.
We’re like modern pharaohs,
we’re more than a power-couple.
Behind MY eye’s,
& HER smile,
is an exceptional story of struggle.
But perseverance & endurance so strong,
so refined,
no camera can grapple.
From hanging in a dark room,
to museum’s & art gallery,
all across the Big Apple.
TWO-HEARTS fused together,
to create genuine Black-Love.
Running through OUR VEINS is the same blue blood,
that fertilized soil,
& helped build this great nation.
Where WE now sit,
posing for this grand occasion.
Picture YOU,
no Picture US,
matter of fact “Picture Me Rollin’ ” like “Pac”.
All across the world,
flaunting this picture of US in one-shot.
Picture YOU,
no Picture ME,
matter of fact Picture US.
1,000 words can describe it,
true LOVE isn’t lust.
Tell ME, what do you envision when YOU Picture US?
Credits: Desmen Best
Proud Of Me
Most think Jay-Z is the only anomaly,
so, they play me like lottery when I tell them about poetry,
one day I hope to make Grandma proud of me.
Inspired by Langston & Amanda Gorman,
why do I get the urge to write when it’s boring?
Who knew my raspy voice wouldn’t be the key to me spreading my wings,
a 11-cent BIC pen has me soaring.
The sky is my ocean,
I guess I’m self-fish,
Late nights & Early mornings.
Marsha Ambrosius with it on The Weekend,
writing on the “R&B”,
that’s on the “regular basis” & quite Often.
We have to ponder,
what if the woman that carried me for 9-months got an abortion?
If I didn’t leave the nest,
you wouldn’t have anything to base falling on,
your example avoided a coffin.
When you’ve had the birds-eye view for 43-year’s,
you see further than giant’s,
I’m more than a match for tyrant’s,
who’s only claimed to fame is flossing.
Not caring about the price of what they’re buying is really costing,
Ladies & Uncle Sam watching,
my duty is to “guard” like “Jaylen Brown” in Boston.
I’m not coming “forward” in court like “Jason Tatum”,
nobodies’ workers everybody bossing.
They don’t own limited liability companies,
renters can’t talk to me about paying a mortgage,
only certain women in a corner office,
all men don’t just think about shagging like Austin.
Powers in the numbers,
I been locked away for 23-summers,
where I’m at now to where I’m headed is awesome.
All it took was a few minutes of my time,
I don’t have nothing to hide,
and I don’t mean horse-skin.
Hide & I’ll seek out the silver-lining or truth,
dress it up to a “T”,
“tailor” made to suit like outfits for Kings-Men.
My life reads like an action-packed thriller,
drama, a bit of comedy,
and adventure is important.
It’s one big documentary,
you’re seeing the aftermaths of that infant in pampers who could’ve ended-up an orphan.
Or Brenda’s baby,
dumped in some trashcan,
coroner’s approaching with tears & caution.
It’s never too late to find your niche,
it’s about being wealthy not rich,
Mr. Stoic never complained even when it was exhausting.
Most think Oprah’s the only anomaly,
so, I get my OWN by entering every contest with the same enthusiasm as winning the lottery,
my journey’s poetic like poetry,
someday I pray to make Grandma proud of me!
Credits: Desmen Best
T.I.M.E (The Incarcerated Mind Evolving)
Not all time heals,
sometimes time reveals,
traumatic scars.
Professionals working hard to correct,
“The Source” isn’t a “magazine”,
4-mics can’t rate Kings & Queens.
Free people locked up mentally, incarcerated bodies with free minds,
I write to liberate & free mines.
Pain infused into poetic lines,
reality is beyond divine & quite sublime.
This train of thought,
runs throughout the city like subway lines.
It connects folks across a country,
hard ships transport it across oceans,
so, the feeling is global,
we’re addicted like fentanyl junkies.
Double bunk me,
expect 2 blacks to maim each other,
instead, I learned from my brother.
Refusing to fall victim,
to the tricks of “Mel Gibson” & “Danny Glover”.
C.O’s act like cops,
praying I “Die Hard”,
liberty is the big motion picture etched into my brain.
Not all bipolar patients are the same,
I have more patients than every doctor in the game.
I’m antisocial & I’m stoic,
that makes it easy for me not to complain.
Plus, I come from 1917 rich stock,
I’m not just some voice from the block,
it’s deeper than trying to be a poet.
Far from heroic,
I’m not king Solomon smart,
nor am I a black Moses.
I just paint a day in the life of many,
break every dollar down to a penny,
because only cents make dollar’s.
I’m more than another number,
or some officer’s next collar.
Every great leader,
male or female,
was once a good follower.
No MFA degree,
but admired by Wilmington University scholars.
Doing something productive with my time,
while doing time,
nothing would make Grandma prouder.
Hustler to published poet,
homeless to homeowner,
stickup-kid to CEO,
I think I’m focused to prevail.
I tell the truth in these prison tales,
like being in a shelter is 20-times worse than jail.
Now I live in the minds & hearts of readers,
I found heaven in hell.
In the heat of the moment,
God a lot can happen,
but the end result not for sale.
I’m poor because I refuse to barter my soul,
forced to see pass the glitter & gold.
Diamonds blinding your vision of the truth,
in the garden of Eden with Eve & strange fruit.
LGBTQ community & Asians are now under attack,
abortion rights eliminated,
it’s more to worry about than just being black.
Violent & nonviolent felonies on my back,
delivering a message despite my current inhumane facts.
I’ll never enjoy the aftermath,
I’ll only be alive long enough to witness the impact.
Not all the time secrets revealed,
sometimes time helps one heal,
from post-traumatic stoic disorder, it seems.
It’s a daily process trying to connect,
“Black Enterprise” is more than a “magazine”,
solute to all the stars that are Kings & Queens.
Physically free but incarcerated in your minds,
I write to encourage & motive mines.
“The Incarcerated Mind Evolving”,
“TIME” is an acronym for the good & bad times!
Credits: Desmen Best
S.L.I.C.K (Stories Lost In the Consciousness of Karma)
Gold coast boats to Virginia shores,
for the purpose of using men.
From nooses,
to diamond encrusted bust-down cubins.
Links in this chain needs to be broken,
When will oppression become a nuisance?
It’s the 15th of March & protest,
Why can’t I put in my two cents?
True sense makes dollar’s,
Maybe I’m a black Trump, Putin & Mike Pence.
The politics of a politician,
women that work poles or winning at polls,
I’m not looking at life through rose colored glass tints.
Most black males leave their marks on this world in police stations with four-fingers,
& two thumb prints.
Palms pressed against a machine,
wiped down for the sides of hands next,
Writing is the way I vent.
Vents used to converse with neighbors,
think in & outside the box,
a vent is just a holster for “wicks”.
“Burning through paper slowly”,
like top paying tricks.
Crucifix rubbing against my chest like Vicks,
sick of this cold world,
fueled by this American dream of being rich.
Nowadays,
cops pull up like adversaries & empty clips,
then walk out of courtrooms,
because they said I slipped.
Raised my hands to grab the ID they requested,
turned my body to reach for my registration & license,
they mistook my back for a “grip”.
“G.U.N” “Gets Us Nowhere”,
acronym flipped,
switched so poetically,
It’s easy to sail hard-ships.
Wind blew blood, sweat & tears into a pool,
which became lakes,
rivers & a ocean of regret,
swim or sink like anchor’s,
Is the outcome of those options a curse or a gift?
Living to watch everybody you love perish,
some questions shouldn’t be answered,
In this matrix I’m the glitch.
It’s fentanyl in any pill chosen,
& since I don’t indulge,
I’m without my fix.
Sick slick lines that’s better than dope,
seeing my Grandchild’s existence,
I’m praying readers see that progress as the plot-twist.
Similar Movie different storyline,
not written by a Hollywood writer,
just a hopeless romantic captivated by a kiss.
She’s a professional at advocating for others,
& I’m hoping that one day I “Will” be “Hitch”.
Poetry is currently my “Eva Mendez”,
with a pen Des,
found a positive way to forever exist.
Words are protester’s,
with picket-signs in Washington fighting for a better tomorrow,
pumping their fists.
Bullhorns in hand,
even willing to go to jail to inspire the incarcerated,
using law to push my agenda like a Brinks.
Truck jewelry & more currency than the treasury,
vault full of gold bars,
buried in a locker inside of a cell behind a barred-wired fence.
I started out a liability,
elevated to an asset without college,
now my John Hancock written in script.
Signature move,
rehabilitation starts from within,
sink or swim like fish.
I’m the Michael Phelps of eloquent lines,
plumbers can’t stop this drip.
Worked 9-to-5 for 23-years,
filed & paid dues like back taxes,
I think I earned a promotion & trip.
Physical & mental vacation,
while the small minded carry-on like bags that’s fit.
In the overhead compartment,
no plane Correctional department can incarcerate fly.
Credits: Desmen Best