Great poem......I can't speak for others who follow and support you but as for me I'm confused and to be honest sad. All of your recent posts are from years ago, it's as if you've now just quit.....getting ready to get out is fantastic, all of us are happy for you, but it's like you've abandoned me, us.....no mail from you since march...no calls.....this is not the Tim I've known for years now....... Gypsy
I see the progress you are making and am so proud of you.It isn't easy changing when you have had a wall built around yourself so as not to get hurt. Vulnerability is a scary thing even for those who have their heads on straight as we all have areas we are afraid to travel. you have had many years building that safety barrier and it won't be easy to tear it down. Just take it slow working one area at a time and IT WILL HAPPEN. Best of luck and many prayers going forth to help you in your journey
Hi Kelly, I spoke to him yesterday and he was put back in general population. He can have pictures! I think they only deny pics that are deemed inappropriate or have stickers or tape on them.
Hey melanie, not sure if he will still be in the hole when I send his letter but I want to send a picture to him. Can he have it or will they throw it out?
Rob, I just got your last letter from Melanie. I had just mailed a letter to you earlier in the day. I will go ahead with promoting the blog! Glad you like what's been done so far.
I'm sorry to hear what you're going through. I look forward to discussing on email when you're out of the hole. I'm glad Sr. Mary was there for you and you got the sign you needed. So very glad!
You gave a lot of good advice on the situation with T's dentures. I have been on the MDOC website, it is not super clear cut. It does say you must wait 2 years after coming into prison for dental work. I guess that's to prevent people who are in for a short time from getting all their dental work done for free. That Humanity for Prisoners org I told you about is helping us go through the steps to hopefully get something done. They said she needed to file a grievance, which she has done, and then keep appealing it. I guess it's a 3 step process. Once they deny her for the 3rd time, H for P can contact the ombudsman in Lansing on her behalf; that's usually when things get done.
She has met with her appeal lawyer and it sounds like he is pursuing some appropriate avenues. I get what you mean about them not doing their job but this one seems OK. Once she is on grounds she can go to the law library. 3 more months. Crazy, huh? I am gearing up for another visit with her in about 3 weeks. I just wrote her today to let her know what day I'm coming.
Gotta run, just wanted to reply to some of the things you said in your letter. Hang in there!!
todd im worried about i have not heard from you in months well i got a new adress if you still want to write im down 5353 e parlier fowler ca 93625 be safe homeboy all this white girls headed your way lil deb
Dead body stinking on the ground, ants in his mouth, stiff and hard, gunshots all night, bullets passing throDead body stinking on the ground, ants in his mouth, stiff and hard, gunshots all night, bullets passing through the house, the horrors these eyes have seen. I ain't even told yet black unity in the community. It's foreign to me and I ain't even ten years old yet. Although I can only speak for myself, I can speak to my younger self who is out there, somewhere in society, sitting in some incarcerated situation, not being able to engage peace and unity as a realistic fundamental possibility for them. For me, love and forgiveness are luxuries, internal. I learned that I needed to discover this reality because, by the time I was ten years old, I had no idea that I would be the one engaging you about being the creator of your own version of love and forgiveness. So what did I do with all of that anger and drive for revenge? I understand that none of it was my fault and I'm telling you now that you can deal with what you have done as an adult when you embrace the fact that you are not the source of evil, and it was true evil that forced others to harm you, because evil knows that it can survive and be defeated when people like you become adults and reach to people that can only understand you. Somebody doesn't know what true love and forgiveness looks like because you haven't decided to teach yet. The next us is out there, and we all need you.
Born out of lust one night, in the middle of the year of massive riots I was conceived. Sex and music fire and riots I tasted everything that she had put in her mouth. I heard that, felt that to a woman's right to choose I ain't nothing but a shot of ass to him, a country welfare check to her. What have I seen? Environmental toxicity of passion and violence so my warm cry had to sound like peaceful singing raised in chaos and disorder. Then she made me the choir director. Was it my lips? Who knows. It probably still is. But where was God then? Yet you expect me to seek him now? How can there be no love lost, when no love had ever been gained? What bout the blood lost out form the top of my head dripping to the soles of my feet? I'm four years old. What have I done to become this drum to be beat, beaten and left to dry in my sleep? Now drink the piss on the wooden floor. I'll cash this county check, but I don't want you no more. Dry blood hurts. Couldn't get it off. Why is she so mad? And mad at me for what? When I grow up to be eight years old, I swear I'm going to run, run away form home. I'm hungry so I can't speak. Pharanaoel singer of the gospel bracing for the next attack and why do they remind me that my lips are big and my skin is black? I'm both alone and lonely but I don't play with toys. I never wanted to be a girl, but I only liked boys. Pissy sissy, singing soprano. Get your lil' black ass out of here, and get the fuck off of Grandma's piano. I tried shooting marbles but everybody thought I was a girl. A lot of alone time at school always in another world. Tied up in a sheet, I couldn't breathe. Through me down a flight of stairs that I couldn't see until somebody untied me. Hanged by the age of six hot, orange burning knife on the tip of my dick. Upside down, vomit in my nose, a broken jaw, but don't nobody know, don't nobody want to know. He didn't even flush the toilet, slapping me, forcing me to swallow his cum. This is what you get for being pretty, you know this day would come. That started at five years old, tied me to a dresser drawer, held me over a burning barbecue pit, I blacked out, at least that's what I was told. I think I'll do it with fire, flames, and big ass smoke. I saw some guns in the closet but they were too big for my seven-year-old self to hold. Ain't no way I'll ever get to heaven if I kill these eight people at the age of seven. So I ran away. The big one was too fast. These are the streets of Compton, and I was its trash. Barefooted, pajama pants, and drying blood on my body, I don't want to go back into that house because there, I'm nobody. Police chasing niggaz in the ally outside our backyard.
RSS
Gypsy
You've not only gone silent in the mail but now through your blog?
Gypsy
I'm sorry to hear what you're going through. I look forward to discussing on email when you're out of the hole. I'm glad Sr. Mary was there for you and you got the sign you needed. So very glad!
You gave a lot of good advice on the situation with T's dentures. I have been on the MDOC website, it is not super clear cut. It does say you must wait 2 years after coming into prison for dental work. I guess that's to prevent people who are in for a short time from getting all their dental work done for free. That Humanity for Prisoners org I told you about is helping us go through the steps to hopefully get something done. They said she needed to file a grievance, which she has done, and then keep appealing it. I guess it's a 3 step process. Once they deny her for the 3rd time, H for P can contact the ombudsman in Lansing on her behalf; that's usually when things get done.
She has met with her appeal lawyer and it sounds like he is pursuing some appropriate avenues. I get what you mean about them not doing their job but this one seems OK. Once she is on grounds she can go to the law library. 3 more months. Crazy, huh? I am gearing up for another visit with her in about 3 weeks. I just wrote her today to let her know what day I'm coming.
Gotta run, just wanted to reply to some of the things you said in your letter. Hang in there!!
j.c.
lil deb
ants in his mouth, stiff and hard,
gunshots all night,
bullets passing throDead body stinking on the ground,
ants in his mouth, stiff and hard,
gunshots all night,
bullets passing through the house,
the horrors these eyes have seen.
I ain't even told yet
black unity in the community.
It's foreign to me and
I ain't even ten years old yet.
Although I can only speak
for myself, I can speak to
my younger self who is
out there, somewhere in society,
sitting in some incarcerated
situation, not being able to
engage peace and unity as
a realistic fundamental
possibility for them.
For me, love and forgiveness
are luxuries, internal.
I learned that I needed
to discover this reality because,
by the time I was ten years old,
I had no idea that I would
be the one engaging you about
being the creator of your own
version of love and forgiveness.
So what did I do with all
of that anger and drive for
revenge? I understand that
none of it was my fault and
I'm telling you now that you
can deal with what you have
done as an adult when you
embrace the fact that you are
not the source of evil, and
it was true evil that forced
others to harm you, because
evil knows that it can
survive and be defeated when
people like you become adults
and reach to people that can
only understand you. Somebody
doesn't know what true love
and forgiveness looks like
because you haven't decided
to teach yet. The next us is
out there, and we all need you.
—Xzyzst
Born out of lust
one night, in the middle
of the year of massive riots
I was conceived.
Sex and music
fire and riots
I tasted everything
that she had put in her mouth.
I heard that, felt that to
a woman's right to choose
I ain't nothing but
a shot of ass to him,
a country welfare check to her.
What have I seen?
Environmental toxicity
of passion and violence
so my warm cry had to
sound like peaceful singing
raised in chaos and disorder.
Then she made me the choir director.
Was it my lips? Who knows.
It probably still is.
But where was God then?
Yet you expect me to seek him now?
How can there be
no love lost, when
no love had ever been gained?
What bout the blood lost
out form the top of my head
dripping to the soles of my feet?
I'm four years old. What have I done
to become this drum
to be beat, beaten and
left to dry in my sleep?
Now drink the piss on the
wooden floor. I'll cash this
county check, but I don't want you
no more.
Dry blood hurts.
Couldn't get it off.
Why is she so mad?
And mad at me for what?
When I grow up to be
eight years old,
I swear I'm going to run,
run away form home.
I'm hungry so I can't speak.
Pharanaoel singer of the gospel
bracing for the next attack
and why do they remind me
that my lips are big
and my skin is black?
I'm both alone and lonely
but I don't play with toys.
I never wanted to be a girl,
but I only liked boys.
Pissy sissy, singing soprano.
Get your lil' black ass
out of here, and get the
fuck off of Grandma's piano.
I tried shooting marbles
but everybody thought I was a girl.
A lot of alone time at school
always in another world.
Tied up in a sheet,
I couldn't breathe.
Through me down a flight of stairs
that I couldn't see
until somebody untied me.
Hanged by the age of six
hot, orange burning knife
on the tip of my dick.
Upside down, vomit in my nose,
a broken jaw, but don't
nobody know, don't nobody
want to know.
He didn't even flush the toilet,
slapping me, forcing me
to swallow his cum.
This is what you get for
being pretty, you know
this day would come.
That started at five years old,
tied me to a dresser drawer,
held me over a burning
barbecue pit, I blacked out,
at least that's what I was told.
I think I'll do it with fire,
flames, and big ass smoke.
I saw some guns in the closet
but they were too big for
my seven-year-old self to hold.
Ain't no way I'll ever get to heaven
if I kill these eight people
at the age of seven.
So I ran away.
The big one was too fast.
These are the streets of Compton,
and I was its trash.
Barefooted, pajama pants,
and drying blood on my body,
I don't want to go back
into that house
because there, I'm nobody.
Police chasing niggaz
in the ally outside our backyard.