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Array
(
[sid] => 83063
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Solitary Refinement Part 2
[time] => 2005-02-05 01:23:58
[hometext] => Sometimes the only escape is inward. Thanks again for the inspiration, Eddie.Edward Bunker, author, actor and criminal, was born on December 31, 1933. He died on July 19, 2005, aged 71.
[bodytext] =>  'But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. (Mary Angelou I know Why the Caged Bird Sings:excerpt) IV My eyes accustom to the dark A Myotis Velifer, I’ve evolved A literate convict with jailhouse mark, But one who’s also learnt resolve A Shakespearian tragedy, am I not? With a soul’s hunger, quietly jading, A human being, who’s miserable lot Doesn’t mean he wants degrading. There are things that we all need Light and air, and food to eat, Love to bond and chance to breed The taste of freedom ever sweet But when denied these basic things, - Courtesy of fellow man You will know why the caged bird sings, And why some hold to no Great Plan. V And so I nurse my battered flesh, A new contour to my broken nose Cuts where pressed into the mesh, Bruising that has just arose I am already a patchwork quilt An eye that cannot shut at night Here a knife thrust to the hilt, A broken leg that never set right. So many battles in yard and cell, Marvelling that I’m still alive Sensing that I will be well, Confident I can survive. The wounds, another time to show Machismo pride, a stronger rep, The myth of it will surely grow So other cons will watch their step. The respectful silence of the yard As my entourage will come to greet, The nervous mutters of the guards As I tell my tale in prison heat. VI But here the gloom is mine alone, The wounds too fresh to brush aside My path to sleep a fitful one, To find a place I can abide. Here, dreaming of a bird in flight, Through the bars of rusting steel From Solitary’s eternal night, Conjured forth by human will Beyond the fence of razor wire, Through the cold and biting rain Driven on by heart’s desire, Transcending all that is my pain. Beyond the stench of humans caged In all of Dante’s levelled hells, Slowly eaten by their rage Between prison walls and crowded cells. Strong wings that rise above dark night, Powered by a guiding grace And lift me as a bird in flight, To another, better place. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 179 [topic] => 65 [informant] => spike [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 53 [ratings] => 11 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => toughstuff )
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