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.
Urban street graffiti artist, specializing in varying styles and applications that merge multi-layering of tags, hit ups, and an array of bombs through original imagery.
Highly regarded as the quiet life of the party, too young to be on California death row, driven, positive in nature, and laced up with that signature Bay Area swag.
The genius of this ink-spiller has now been featured in the forthcoming edition on the Write or Die Zine Project, titled The Vent.
While collaborating with the youngest Californian condemned population in state history, J-Kul provides the visuals of original tags and bombs that merge an underbelly to The Vent's amalgamation of terminus versus, written in poem form, rap lyrics, spoken word works, and other introspective contributions.
From between the bars at California death row, in association with the Write or Die Zine Project, The Papyrus Collective group blog presents:
J-Kul
Dreaming
Sitting in my cell meditating, half-dreaming I picture in my head father and son, just beaming As I meditate harder and harder, I realize that This would be worse if I had had a daughter As I ask my son for forgiveness, we embrace and hug I fell the pain and love from both my son and the man above But I'm still sitting in my cell, asking the universe for forgiveness The sun is kissing my face, my soul is in outer space My son thinks he's God so he's walking on water I tell him to remain holy, remain pure, and remain godly Putting all the pieces of my life back together I want to change for the good and for the better My greatest gift to the universe, I hope it lasts forever Even though we're both gods, I call him Son. He calls me Dad HE has ll the best parts of me and even parts I never had My son has an infinite mind, and a divine and power destiny Every moment, every second, every thought, every breath Is filled with pain and filled with regret In outer space amongst all the stars, just beaming Sitting in my cell meditating, half-dreaming
A poem by Joesph "J-Kul" Mercado Dedicated to his son Jacob Nathaniel Mercado
youtube.com→search video name→Joseph Mercado Feeding His Son Jacob Nathaniel Mercado
I just thought I'd leave this here. I leave it everywhere I go, a calling card that sums up very powerful human secrets.
Prisoner Hatred: The Psychology of Justified Torture in America 2/11/17
Millions of Americans are currently being held in modern day concentration camps on American soil. We call them "prisons". Prisons are being ran "for profit" and have become torture chambers and "legalized" slave labor camps. Similar to Germany during the Nazi regime, Americans have been "trained" through media sources to look the other way, continue in complacency, mind our own business, and remain apathetic. We have naively believed whatever they, the prisoners, receive, they deserve.
In an ego driven society, where personal gain and self preservation is cherished above consideration of our neighbors, whether we know them or not, projection, scapegoating, and superiority are the "ego defenses" used most often when directing hatred toward prisoners. It is how we justify the torture of millions of people, whether they are guilty or innocent. We do not stop to consider the aspects of "guilt versus innocence", "crime", or "authority".
In order to justify the torture of millions of people, held in these modern day concentration camps, called prisons, we project onto them everything we hate about ourselves (projection). Whatever quality of ourselves that we "secretly" hate, we see it perfectly in prisoners. Therefore, we believe, "whatever they receive, they deserve".
Even as we project our self hatred onto a group of people we deem as worthy of hatred, we say to ourselves, they deserve to die, or be tortured, or suffer, or be locked in a cage for the rest of their lives, they are less than human (scapegoating). We become sadistic abusers.
And after all, we are the "superior" group (superiority). We believe we deserve all good things and they don't because they are less than human, less than deserving, less than worthy of love....etc.
Because we blindly trust "authority" and are taught to "worship" "authority", we do not consider if the prisoner is innocent or guilty by doing our own research of the "crime". We really do not care; our ego needs someone to hate and blame. And, we do not consider if a "crime" was even committed at all, as in "conspiracy" charges. We continue to project, blame, and criticize. We do not consider what the "crime" is...again, we need somewhere to place our self hatred.
We need someone or some group to be our "slave" so that we can keep up our superiority ideals. We need someone or some group to oppress so that we can feel good about our intelligence, our college degrees, our material possessions. We need someone or some group to place our "hatred" on so that we can continue our denial systems, our lack of accountability, our own slave mentality.
Dear Tim – As his suggested, we will be disseminating this stuff in side the prison and soon..... I hope that your works remain on this site, I believe we will likely be referring back to a lot of the material here, expressly for the purpose of keeping the fires stoked.... And by the way, don't feel bad for "trotting this old stuff out". II've never seen this one before - you have a lot of material here I have never gotten to - a given considering the vast amount of learning via reading that I've received in the last 2 years .. this particular essay reveals the nature of narcissism, the COs MO in daily life.
Thanks Paul, I appreciate your participation. I'm sure u will come up with several more decent and useful suggestions between now and June 21.
Oh and in the age of LOL and OMG, I think we can put aside our differences about your and youre. ( I have examples of doctors who have gotten the 2 mixed up) That's the petty gaslighting that Tim refers to in the text above. You Just provided the perfect example of that.
Oh and Tim, your go fund me page is well over $1000. Looks like the Millions for Prisoners March on D.C. in August is going to be a reality for you!!!! How exciting! Fresh out of that dank witches hole and straight to the sunlit Washington Mall.....!!! Whoot!
Thank you for the reply. I was surprised to hear from you so soon. I am sorry I took so long to reply but I've been busy with work. I searched for penpals after watching an episode of some crime show. I know, Americans have an obsession with crime and the psychology behind why people commit crimes. I am very interested in shows, documentaries, and stories about the behaviors of others. I am also very interested in the criminal justice system. I know it's a broken system but I still find it fascinating. I am Hmong/Lao so that's why I searched for Asians. My relative was in Oshkosh for murder not too long ago but he committed his crime when he was a young teen. He is in his forties and has left prison for good. He now has a wife and doing very well for himself.
I would like to know more about your story if you don't mind.
I will try to write to you by hand but I figured this will be faster. I live a minute away from the correctional institute so it's literally in my backyard.
This doesn't appear to be an update from CURE-ARM just a re-post.......... 2 years later. I fear that it has gone the way of the dinasaur.
National Cure, MA Cure et al still try to get the message out but it has slipped down the list of priorities with T J Muise whose sole focus right now is scamming prisoner rights supporters to put some money on his books for re-entry.
Christopher, I saw your episode on Lockup: Maximum Security. Your lengthy sentence must be hard on its own but the amount of time the show says you have spent in solitary confinement is shocking to me. How do you handle being alone for that amount of time? Are you religious at all? What has been the main thing getting you through your hard times in prison? Thank you and God bless, J.
I sent a note to you today, May 1st, I see on the go fund me page you have your release date, it's right around the corner, I find mixed emotions over the wonderful news, all the years we've written and talked, will they now disappear? I've lost so many friends already....God bless you Tim....always.....gypsy
So you've trotted this old piece out again. This was back in the day when you envisaged delivering this speech to a rapt inmate population as a leader a la Martin L King. Quel dommage!
Six years on and you're 'short'.....it ain't gonna happen. Clearly if you feel the need to regurgitate this, being the "change you want to see" hasn't worked.
This was and is a bit of preaching to the choir. It would only be effective if disseminated among the population so putting it out there on a blog only serves to feed you ego.
Oh.......and proof reading is always good. It is YOU'RE......not your. You must have passed your GED by now.
RSS
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.
J-Kul
J-Kul
Pronounced (Jeh-Kool)
Urban street graffiti artist, specializing
in varying styles and applications that merge
multi-layering of tags, hit ups, and an
array of bombs through original imagery.
Highly regarded as the quiet life of the party,
too young to be on California death row, driven,
positive in nature, and laced up with that
signature Bay Area swag.
The genius of this ink-spiller has now been
featured in the forthcoming edition on the
Write or Die Zine Project, titled The Vent.
While collaborating with the youngest Californian
condemned population in state history, J-Kul
provides the visuals of original tags and bombs
that merge an underbelly to The Vent's
amalgamation of terminus versus, written
in poem form, rap lyrics, spoken word works,
and other introspective contributions.
From between the bars at California death row,
in association with the Write or Die Zine Project,
The Papyrus Collective group blog presents:
J-Kul
Dreaming
Sitting in my cell meditating, half-dreaming
I picture in my head father and son, just beaming
As I meditate harder and harder, I realize that
This would be worse if I had had a daughter
As I ask my son for forgiveness, we embrace and hug
I fell the pain and love from both my son and the man above
But I'm still sitting in my cell, asking the universe for forgiveness
The sun is kissing my face, my soul is in outer space
My son thinks he's God so he's walking on water
I tell him to remain holy, remain pure, and remain godly
Putting all the pieces of my life back together
I want to change for the good and for the better
My greatest gift to the universe, I hope it lasts forever
Even though we're both gods, I call him Son. He calls me Dad
HE has ll the best parts of me and even parts I never had
My son has an infinite mind, and a divine and power destiny
Every moment, every second, every thought, every breath
Is filled with pain and filled with regret
In outer space amongst all the stars, just beaming
Sitting in my cell meditating, half-dreaming
A poem by Joesph "J-Kul" Mercado
Dedicated to his son Jacob Nathaniel Mercado
youtube.com→search video name→Joseph Mercado Feeding His Son Jacob Nathaniel Mercado
Prisoner Hatred: The Psychology of Justified Torture in America 2/11/17
Millions of Americans are currently being held in modern day concentration camps on American soil. We call them "prisons". Prisons are being ran "for profit" and have become torture chambers and "legalized" slave labor camps. Similar to Germany during the Nazi regime, Americans have been "trained" through media sources to look the other way, continue in complacency, mind our own business, and remain apathetic. We have naively believed whatever they, the prisoners, receive, they deserve.
In an ego driven society, where personal gain and self preservation is cherished above consideration of our neighbors, whether we know them or not, projection, scapegoating, and superiority are the "ego defenses" used most often when directing hatred toward prisoners. It is how we justify the torture of millions of people, whether they are guilty or innocent. We do not stop to consider the aspects of "guilt versus innocence", "crime", or "authority".
In order to justify the torture of millions of people, held in these modern day concentration camps, called prisons, we project onto them everything we hate about ourselves (projection). Whatever quality of ourselves that we "secretly" hate, we see it perfectly in prisoners. Therefore, we believe, "whatever they receive, they deserve".
Even as we project our self hatred onto a group of people we deem as worthy of hatred, we say to ourselves, they deserve to die, or be tortured, or suffer, or be locked in a cage for the rest of their lives, they are less than human (scapegoating). We become sadistic abusers.
And after all, we are the "superior" group (superiority). We believe we deserve all good things and they don't because they are less than human, less than deserving, less than worthy of love....etc.
Because we blindly trust "authority" and are taught to "worship" "authority", we do not consider if the prisoner is innocent or guilty by doing our own research of the "crime". We really do not care; our ego needs someone to hate and blame. And, we do not consider if a "crime" was even committed at all, as in "conspiracy" charges. We continue to project, blame, and criticize. We do not consider what the "crime" is...again, we need somewhere to place our self hatred.
We need someone or some group to be our "slave" so that we can keep up our superiority ideals. We need someone or some group to oppress so that we can feel good about our intelligence, our college degrees, our material possessions. We need someone or some group to place our "hatred" on so that we can continue our denial systems, our lack of accountability, our own slave mentality.
"In Deep Love and Eternal Kindness",
Angela Clemons, LAC
As his suggested, we will be disseminating this stuff in side the prison and soon..... I hope that your works remain on this site, I believe we will likely be referring back to a lot of the material here, expressly for the purpose of keeping the fires stoked.... And by the way, don't feel bad for "trotting this old stuff out". II've never seen this one before - you have a lot of material here I have never gotten to - a given considering the vast amount of learning via reading that I've received in the last 2 years .. this particular essay reveals the nature of narcissism, the COs MO in daily life.
Thanks Paul, I appreciate your participation. I'm sure u will come up with several more decent and useful suggestions between now and June 21.
Oh and in the age of LOL and OMG, I think we can put aside our differences about your and youre. ( I have examples of doctors who have gotten the 2 mixed up)
That's the petty gaslighting that Tim refers to in the text above. You Just provided the perfect example of that.
Oh and Tim, your go fund me page is well over $1000. Looks like the Millions for Prisoners March on D.C. in August is going to be a reality for you!!!!
How exciting! Fresh out of that dank witches hole and straight to the sunlit Washington Mall.....!!! Whoot!
Be blessed....Julie
I would like to know more about your story if you don't mind.
I will try to write to you by hand but I figured this will be faster. I live a minute away from the correctional institute so it's literally in my backyard.
National Cure, MA Cure et al still try to get the message out but it has slipped down the list of priorities with T J Muise whose sole focus right now is scamming prisoner rights supporters to put some money on his books for re-entry.
Paul
I saw your episode on Lockup: Maximum Security. Your lengthy sentence must be hard on its own but the amount of time the show says you have spent in solitary confinement is shocking to me. How do you handle being alone for that amount of time? Are you religious at all? What has been the main thing getting you through your hard times in prison?
Thank you and God bless,
J.
So you've trotted this old piece out again. This was back in the day when you envisaged delivering this speech to a rapt inmate population as a leader a la Martin L King. Quel dommage!
Six years on and you're 'short'.....it ain't gonna happen. Clearly if you feel the need to regurgitate this, being the "change you want to see" hasn't worked.
This was and is a bit of preaching to the choir. It would only be effective if disseminated among the population so putting it out there on a blog only serves to feed you ego.
Oh.......and proof reading is always good. It is YOU'RE......not your. You must have passed your GED by now.
Paul