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Tattoo art

Tattoo

books

readers

literature

crime

criminals

prison

prison reform

corrections

 

Shot Caller Press Home

$250.00 1st place Winner:
William H. Davis Jr. of Beaumont Texas

"This Bond We Share"

This Bond we share is sealed with blood
and binds us with its weight
we bear the scars of meeting
dealt by the hand of fate

As chance would have us enemies
in a contest . . . kill or be killed
the stage now set, the die was cast
in a moment our fates were sealed

Our lives both changed forever
in the twinkle of an eye
we met as strangers, face to face
in a match where one must die

We both had ground we had to stand
and neither one could yield
so the ground that lay between us
became our battlefield

Only we can know the truth
about the guilt that we both bear
this truth that we can not escape
like this bitter bond we share

This bond we share, as old as time
born of tears and pain
sealed forever in our hearts
and words can not explain

How in the heat of battle
two warriors join as one
you had only duty
and I . . . no place to run

Each believing that we were right
we struck out, yet both were spared
now we must live with what we did
and this bond, forever shared.

 

$100.00 2nd place Winner
Perry M. Orlando of Jesup Georgia

Where Freedom Lies

I saw a bird today,
as it landed on a tree.
White and blue and gray,
just in front of me.

I paused to watch it
Preen its dress, and said,
“oh lovely bird,
what brings you here,
behind this fence
with lonely men encaged?

Why not dance upon the clouds,
with freedom on your wings?
Or float on breezes warm and soft,
and see what freedom brings?”

“I’m here for you my captive friend,
with a message and a song.
I’ve searched the skies for rainbow’s end.
I’ve traveled far and long.

I’ve seen the world an open stage,
and know what part I play.
I’ve spied my brothers in a cage,
through many night and day.

Feathers clipped, no skies to soar,
No pots of gold to hoard.
And my futile searching was no more.
For I found my life’s reward.

For though no clouds on which to dance,
no sun-warmed breeze to ride,
From watching them I learned by chance,
That freedom resides, inside.

 

$75.00 3rd place
Brett May Sr. of Soledad California

"When The Prison Speak’s"

These walls tell truths, it’s lips that tell lies,

Looks deceive, but through these window’s I see clearer than these eye’s. . .

Ear’s, they have a tendency to be choosey and non-responsive;

“Hearing” all, but only “listening” to what’s pleasing to the conscience. .

But when it’s quiet on the tier, and role call has been spoken;

And it’s so silent in the prison you can hear heart’s broken. . .

The sincerest of soul searching, bear’s the proof of your worth;

When the prison speaks, the truth hurts. . .

Is it the siren that scream’s peace, and the flesh that is violent;

For those intent on living peacefully, change faces when we riot. . .

Yet the longer we are divided, shedding the blood of the shackled wrists,

Then we’ll drown in our own blood and simply cease to exist. . .

But when the min-14 reports, eerie silence supercedes;

And we lay in prone position, while they gurney men who bleed. . .

And the ever-present reaper sifts his gems from the dirt;

When the prison speaks, the truth hurts . . .

Rehabilitation is propaganda, justification to quell the guilt;

That children’s backs are the foundations, on which new prisons are built. . .

I’m saddened to no end, for my child is among that youth;

And I’m with life sentence, and want to tell him the truth. . .

That when the cell block is still, you can hear the sound of prison;

Sober minds lie awake, and reap torment of mental visions . . ..

The wife in the throes of passion, wedding vows no longer relevant;

Or daddy’s little girl needing love, no longer celibate. . .

Prison induced remorse for the souls guilt ridden;

Confess regrets to the souls, of those no longer livin’. . .

We lay still in these beds we’ve made, here in this Hell on earth;

When the prison speaks, the truth hurts. . .