Shadows of Men: Now You See Us

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Until the lion learns to write his own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are at risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high-quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive self-projection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities.

In collaboration with

TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction.................................................................................... 1 CAN YOU SEE ME?....................................................................... 3 DARYL "DOC" BROWN

WHAT WILL SHE SAY.................................................................. 6 D. WALLACE

OUTTA SIGHT OUTTA MIND..................................................... 8 BRANDON YOUNG

CHOICES......................................................................................... 10 JUSTIN "KING" PAYNE

VISUALIZE...................................................................................... 15 ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

IT'S ANOTHER LIFE IN HERE..................................................... 16 A. DUCKINS

BABY GIANT SON SON............................................................... 18 TERRION POUNCY

I BEEN LONELY.............................................................................. 19 RAAMSE MORRIS

A SPECIAL NOTE TO SOMEONE SPECIAL............................. 20 ERIC D. BLAKE

TOMORROW................................................................................. 22 DARYL "DOC" BROWN

BLACK CURSE............................................................................... 23 TORY J. BIBBS

A LOOK OUT THE WINDOW..................................................... 24 ALEX WEATHERSPOON

SCANDALOUS............................................................................... 27 ANTHONY T. HAYNES

DIOS MI AYUDADO/GOD HELPED ME.................................. 28 BENIGNO ESCOBAR

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 30 TERRION POUNCY

INVISIBLE WOMAN..................................................................... 31 ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 32 ANTHONY T. HAYNES

TO BE INVISIBLE IS TO BE FREE.............................................. 33 IRELL DICKENS

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 34 M. JORGENSEN

11-16-19............................................................................................ 35 ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 36 DARYL "DOC" BROWN

SUMMER RAIN.............................................................................. 37 ANTHONY T. HAYNES

6-WORD MEMOIR....................................................................... 38 JULIUS "JUICE"

PHOENIX........................................................................................ 39 ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 40 ERIC D. BLAKE

OBSCURE DAYS, WHY?.............................................................. 41 DARYL "DOC" BROWN

I MET DEATH: PART 1 CLAIRVOYANT AND CONCISE......... 43 JULIUS "JUICE"

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 45 JR

THIS IS ME...................................................................................... 46 DARYL WILLIAMS

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 47 IRELL DICKENS

MY HATE......................................................................................... 48 TORY J. BIBBS

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 49 NAQUAN T. RICHARDSON

LIFE'S DARKEST SECRETS......................................................... 50 ERIC D. BLAKE

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 51 D. WALLACE

CONFUSED WITH MYSELF........................................................ 52 TERRION POUNCY

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 53 DARYL WILLIAMS

HOPE IS GONE.............................................................................. 54 DERRICK D. SMITH

6-WORD MEMOIRS..................................................................... 55 DERRICK D. SMITH

WHO AM I...................................................................................... 56 JULIUS "JUICE"

THE LIFE......................................................................................... 58 TERRELL "WAKIL" SMITH

A PAST LIFE.................................................................................... 59 ULISES ALMARAZ

THE PAST WON'T LET US LAST................................................ 60 ANTHONY T. HAYNES

NOT ABOUT YOU: IT'S ABOUT ME.......................................... 61 DARYL WILLIAMS

WICKED INTENTIONS................................................................. 62 ANTHONY T. HAYNES

INVISIBLE....................................................................................... 63 DAVE FON

TO NOAH........................................................................................ 68 NAQUAN T. RICHARDSON

SOUL FOOD................................................................................... 71 ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

GOOD AND EVIL........................................................................... 74 D. ARRINGTON

LADY JUSTICE................................................................................ 77 JOHNATHAN REZA

EXISTENCE IN A SNOWGLOBE................................................. 78 M. JORGENSEN

CLEAR ROAD AHEAD.................................................................. 79 YAM D. IBANEZ

INTRODUCTION Alum Circle is a space which affords Authors an opportunity to pursue in-depth reading, deep reflection and thoughtful writing where their individual unique voices are honed, shared and celebrated. Memoir writing is at the heart of a ConTextos circle. In Alum Circle, Authors are encouraged to play with the form: from essays and epistoles (letters) to poetry. What makes memoir, memoir, is the specificity of one’s experience and the attendant exploration of individual moments.

Writers become authors through the sharing of their work in publication. Although each entry of this second Alum Circle Compilation possesses a distinct Author voice, the compilation as a whole is centered around the theme of Visibility/Invisibility. This theme evolved from Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngouzi Adichie’s Ted Talk “The Danger of a Single Story.” Her talk lays out the ways in which having a single narrative about people and places and experiences shrinks all these things to oppressive, and ultimately limiting, stereotypes. The Palestinian poet Mourid Barghouti writes that if you want to dispossess a people, the simplest way to do it is to tell their story, and to start with, "secondly." In Alum circle, Authors did not start “second”; they seized the power through writing to render themselves and their experiences seen.

When ConTextos first launched Authors Circles in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections in February 2017, each participant took risks--as humans, as colleagues and as writers pioneering new possibilities. Together we entered the unknown to co-create a space where we each revealed our complex humanity through intense dialogue, radical vulnerability, deep reflection and authentic collaboration. In Authors Circle, the path toward publishing one’s personal memoir is both a singular and collective journey. The Authors’ first Publication Celebration, when they hold their published memoirs in their hands for the first time and present them to family, friends and the world, is a powerful pivot point.

Many County Authors remain in CCDOC beyond this point, and their desire to continue connecting as human beings persists. ConTextos also reaches out to authors currently in IDOC through Newsletters and an emerging Pen Pal program. IDOC Authors were invited to submit entries and are included in this compilation.

It is our hope that the reader values these works as much as the Alum Authors value their ongoing journey of staying engaged and connected as they author the future.

Peace, Dr. Moore & Lisa

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CAN YOU SEE ME? DA RYL “ D O C ” BROWN

The Jim Crow south. The 60s and 70s. The era I grew up in. A small town: Wilmot, Arkansas. A small family: my grandmother, sister (Jackie) and myself. My Grandfather passed away when I was 6 years old, leaving me the only male in the household. Growing up, I tried to fit in with the in-crowd, but they couldn’t see me. Excelling in academics seemed to hide me from them. Can you see me? My only identity was Jackie Brown's smart little brother.

There were two schools in Wilmot at this time, Slack LaGrand Colored Elementary (all black) and Wilmot Elementary (all white). I attended Slack LaGrand and was blessed with above average grades. When I was in the 1st grade, integration became law in Wilmot and had to be enforced. It didn’t go well or fast.

First, a few kids from the colored school with the best grades were transferred to the white school, and a few kids with lower grades from the white school were transferred to the colored school. Guess where I went?

So, here we are, 10 or so black kids, first grade, at the white school, and we’re not wanted. They still couldn’t see me. Can you?

The next year, more were transferred and by then the white parents had enough. They built private schools rapidly and transferred their kids there. Some white kids had to 3

stay, simply because they couldn’t afford the private schools.

Despite all the early racial slurs and hazing, I continued to excel in academics. Even after total integration. With determination and the grades I achieved, I was able to graduate after completing the 11th grade. I was ranked 3rd in my graduating class, a rare occurrence in my town. Still no one saw me. Can you?

After graduating, I had several academic scholarships granted to me, but that still wasn’t enough for me to attend the college I chose. See, my family was very poor, and I refused to be a burden on them. With few opportunities in and around Wilmot other than farming, I decided to enlist in the United States Air Force and get a higher education through them.

I graduated basic training in San Antonio, Texas, but instead of going to school as normal, I was ordered OJT (on the job training) to Little Rock Air Force Base in Jacksonville, Arkansas. Who would have thought fate would bring me back to Arkansas?

Racism hit a new high in my life the day I reported to duty there. As I walked in the electric shop on base, a black 17 year-old, an apprentice electrician, all I saw was a sea of white men. However, I was greeted with a warm welcome from them, especially my reporting Officer, Master Sergeant Boone.

He proceeded to show me the shop and we talked about my duties. He then took me back to the office and told me I didn’t have to work that day. Just hang around with him to get a feel of things.

In comes the epitome of racism, Airman Hennessy, a face and name I have never forgotten to this day, over 40 years later. He saw me just sitting around talking to Master Sergeant Boone then said an unforgettable, racially motivated statement: “Why are you just sitting there? Niggers aren’t privileged around here...” The shock to hear this from someone I had to work with, and possibly fight besides to protect this nation, upset me terribly. Oh yea, I forgot to mention: I was the first and only black man in the shop. He couldn’t see me. Can you?

Today, that same black kid, 40 plus years later. A successful career, happy life, caught up in unavoidable circumstances. A black man, detained in Cook County Jail, innocent of charged charges, but treated as guilty.

They don’t see me. Can you?

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WHAT WILL SHE SAY D. WALLACE

I remember when I first came to jail. It was my first time, by the way. I was feeling alone, surrounded by people I didn’t know, and people talking about their drug cases or warrants. I remember telling a few guys, “At least you’ll be home sometime this year.” They looked shocked, and asked, “What you fighting, some drama?” I responded, “Naw, just some attempts on the police, etc.” Then they would automatically switch the conversation from me to themselves. Which was fine by me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone at the time. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to fly under the radar. I wanted to be invisible at the time. So, when bond court was over and processing was through, they put me in 2 North until my meds balanced. That place, let me tell you, you will see some shit. Guys smearing shit on the windows of their doors, pissing all over the room, guys just wanting to fight because they are in jail. The guys that did shit like that received a shot in the ass. I don’t know what they used, but it will knock the most wired person out.

Day after day, seeing that bullshit, I felt like I was getting smaller and smaller. I was barely calling home. I didn’t call my ole lady for at least three weeks. I was hurt, sad that I endangered my family, not knowingly doing so. Thank God I have a wife who understands and cares. I didn’t want to talk to her, out of fear of her hating me. One day, I called my Mother and was talking legal business. Once we were done, she asked if I called Lisa (my wife) and my kids. I responded, “No.” And I told her why.

She told me that she spoke with Lisa and I really need to call home. I was thinking, “What will I say? What will she say to me? Will she be mad, filled with much hatred for me? She just may want to end everything.”

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So, I came back to life, with Securus telling the caller that this shit is recorded, and whatever rest the voice says. So I wrapped up my call with my Mom. I sat at the phone for what felt like an hour or two. So much was racing through my mind at the time. I felt like I had a traffic jam between my ears. I leaned my forehead against the cold brick wall, closed my eyes, and pictured my family. Memories of them smiling throughout their life brings so much joy to me. It clears my mind and I’m able to breathe again. I picked up the receiver, dialed the numbers that were prompted. And then I dialed my wife’s number. She had already added money on my Mom’s phone. After the long silence waiting to hear her voice, I waited so long, you would think I had my words together. But I didn’t. I hated the silence. I didn't know what to expect. And then I heard, “Thanks for using Securus,” whatever the f*** she says. I heard my wife's voice. At the time, there were no words to be said.

Tears of sadness filled the lines on both ends. Without her saying a word yet, I knew how she felt--the loneliness, sad or upset thoughts behind the undialed calls I never made. I waited to speak. I wanted her to speak first. I wanted her to comfort me at the time. The first thing she said after we were able to clean ourselves up was, “What took you so long to call?” I told her, “I didn’t know how you felt or if you wanted me to call.” Ultimately, the call was bittersweet. I was relieved and was able to hold conversations with other inmates. At times I feel alone, but now I know how she feels and that she continues to support me with my current situation.

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OUTTA SIGHT OUTTA MIND BR ANDON YOUNG Who truly understands what it means to be outta sight and outta mind? Maybe you are somewhere unfamiliar, away from loved ones, and you wonder if they are thinking of you, or if they still talk about you? Because the memories that we share give me the strength to carry on. As time passes, memories fade from minds like a person suffering from dementia or, better yet, Alzheimers.

As I pay my debt to society, I’ll give you a look into what prison life is like.

Imagine being locked in a bathroom for 19 hours a day with a stranger, having to bear the stench of stress when he passes air. Or holding defecation until dayroom just so you could take a dump in solitude. Or going to the chow hall to eat the equivalent of “pig slop” because you don’t have money to make commissary because your family is struggling to make ends meet while you waste away in some institution knowing it’s nothing you can do about it.

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Or what about losing three immediate family members like your mother, grandmother, and sister in three consecutive years while trying not to let your emotions overflow like a volcanic eruption because authority figures find it funny or feel you deserve the infinite pain that has been bestowed upon you? Or what about the woman you professed love for and she did the same, who crept behind your back with your homeboy with whom you shared intimate information about the pros and cons of your relationship? It's like getting stabbed in the back with the sword Excalibur without having the option or privilege to die. You tell yourself, “If it don’t kill me, it makes me stronger,” but in reality it makes you vengeful, bitter and angry as hell. But it’s nothing you can do about it but hope and wish to the Invisible and know there will be others to be in your life. So being on lockdown, on the other side of your woman’s love, is like being stranded on a desert island waiting for help, waiting for a lifeline, wondering if you are still relevant or still outta sight and outta mind.

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CHOICES J U S T I N " K I N G " P AY N E

When asked, “What superpower would you want if you had one?” invisibility immediately pops into my mind. Why invisibility? For my whole life I’ve moved as a huge neonlight phantom. Everyone can see the shell: skin, flesh, eyes, arms, legs, head. But seeing just these human features, well, having the capacity to receive visual imaging is not seeing me. Being born with the visual appearance of a brown skin man placed me in the box of invisible things. Stereotypes defined the perception of who and what I am. When I die, will my mission be complete, will they see me or will I just be yet another visual apparition disappeared from vision? *****

“Get yo crazy ass down!!”

Ok, just do it! Jump. Count to 3 and jump. 1 . . . 2. . .

So I guess I’ve got your attention. This is the point of the story where I jump. Pretty heavy shit. I guess when shit got hard I wanted to take the easy way out. Shit, why not?

Why go through life on this God forsaken hell-go-round just to end up as maggot food and worm porta-potties? I mean, its not like anybody gives a fuck anyway, right? No one has seen me my entire life. Why not die and be a ghost since I’ve been one the last 26 years anyway?

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You know, I shouldn’t have been surprised, looking at

the pattern of my life. It was about time for shit to come falling in on happiness. And I was happy. I had a great job, a stable and functioning relationship--or so I thought. But something was missing, something that I simply chose to ignore. See, what I didn’t understand is that in a healthy relationship, in a healthy life, you have to be seen as well as see those around you. But, you see, “sight” is not “seeing;” “seeing” has nothing to do with the eyes and physical visual effect. It has everything to do with the heart, mind, and soul. This we both took for granted and the house we built quickly began to crumble. Happiness turned to pain, pain turned to anger, anger to resentment.

After I was laid off and the money was an issue, I realized what the relationship was truly built on.

I kept giving 100% in my relationship, all the while I got no return. With no job and now the end of my relationship blooming in the distance, I chose to end it. I felt no value in life, no value in my life. August 15, 2016, the anniversary of my cousin’s death. I drove from my Maywood home in search of that precious place to ease the pain. As I sped east on I-55, I remembered the orange line train ran directly under the merging overpass to 90/94. As I pulled to the side, I felt the world unraveling around me., and a kiddie, joyous giddiness enveloped my being. I stood caught in a trance by the total and utter silence of roaring traffic around me, the squeal of light rail brakes from an approaching train--I knew this was it. Filthy, littered, alone--my precious, oh so precious. With the skyline at my back, I could see South Chicago unroll in front of me.

The huge blue garbage trucks went about spilling their 11

stankin’ juice at every turn; CTA buses rolled along Archer in a stop and go marathon. The most elite gang of Chicago sped around, lights flashing in pursuit of their next victim. The world went on with its day. I remained a phantom, a visual apparition. Perched on a look out with a whole city in front of me, my vision returned blank. I breathed a deep satisfyin’ gulp of pollution in the fresh air. I sang with the birds, an unknown eulogy for the unknown dying world.

Left foot first, it’s what the Army taught me. Climb up to my throne. Now both feet atop the concrete barrier, my precious peace awaits. I feel the bridge rumble in submission as a semi thunders past; power, such power. It’s all mine now, the world still doesn’t know, soon it’ll all be over. The power to end the world, the power to end my world.

“Get yo crazy ass down!” someone yells as they speed by. “Look,” I tell myself. “Don’t think about it. Just jump. Jump nigga! Jump.” Now I’m flying with the birds, the air breezing under my wings. I’m alive, truly alive. The wind whispers to me ‘open your eyes.’ I’m inverted, the city that was sprawled under me is now wearing itself on my head. Now it’s over, now this is the end, ass over tea kettle--a dull lulling thud.

Will your heart and soul say yes? Wait, they got music when you dead? God is sayin’ there is more that I require from thee. Will your heart and soul say yes? Oh, shit, that’s my phone--ohh shit, that’s my mom’s ringtone. Don’t answer, focus, jump.

Buzzz. . . . buzzz. . . . -(sigh). “Hey Ma,” I say, more dead than alive. “What you doin’ boy? I need to hit the streets. And I got

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an interview you gotta take me to.” “Maaaa, I don’t feel too good.” “You a motha fuckin’ lie, where you at? It sounds like you already out in the streets. Hurry up, I’m already ready!” she says. “Lady, you know I’m grown, right?” I laugh through the tears. “I don’t give a damn,” she laughs. “How long you gone be, speed demon?”

As I pull up to my Mom’s crib, I paint my face in the colorful hues of happiness past. “It’s hot as hell out here,” she says as she gets in the car. “Where you been?” “Nowhere, just ridin,” I lie. We ride in musical silence for a while, then as if she had x-ray vision, she tells me, “I know something wrong.”

I bolt upright in my seat, staring at the mirror, checking if the paint has started to run. “Umm humm, don’t lie neither.”

(Sigh.) “I know it’s been tough lately, and you doin’ what you can. What you supposed to do? Don’t let life get you so you feel like leavin.” I sat dumb-founded as she got out the car.

How the hell did she know? I’m not one to tell folks ‘bout my problems. My problems are my problems. That’s how I’ve lived my life.

When she got back in the car, I asked, “Ma, who told you? How’d you know?” “Cause Justin, you walk around with that fake ass face on, trying to control e’rthang, fakin like life all great. When you gone learn to take care of you? You pile yoself up with other folks’ problems and ack like you got none yo’self. I see yo corners crumblin; I know you hurtin.” “Lady I don’t know what you talkin ‘bout, I’m fine. And I’m supposed to worry bout y’all. Y’all belong to me, yo problems is my problems. My issues are mine alone.”

“You gone kill yoself thinkin that.” (Sigh.) “So you gone 13

tell me where you was or keep on lyin? You know I know everything!” She was right. I thought I was one man on my island. I felt nobody could truly understand what I was goin’ through. I lost everything. Including my mind. That day, the words that came out my mouth, tore me to pieces. That day I told my Mom her son had no will to live.

The end of my life, her life, my siblings, nieces, nephews, kids--an hour or so ago was scheduled to come to an unscheduled end. When she hung her head and bit back bitter tears, I remembered how it felt to bury a child, my child.

Flesh and blood. From holding a tiny ‘lil hand, to carrying a tiny ‘lil casket.

Moms was never a lovey, mushy parent. She ran the house as the Marine she was. A tough ass lady, who could smell a rat fart in China. Give you a look that made you tell on yourself, and could see people for who they really are. I told her that day what I had planned to do. She shut down the convo until I dropped her off. Before she got out, she told me “I ain’t raise no punks, get yo shit together!” I laughed, because in Marine Mom code that means, “I love you, now get yo shit together!”

That day, I planned to jump from a freeway overpass and splatter myself on the orange line train tracks. That day, my Mom called as I was about to jump, had me drive all over creation, which she had planned to do the next day. That day, I chose life. I chose to live. But that day, what I didn’t know is that my choice to live would come with the ultimate test.

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VISUALIZE A N D R E W " FAT B OY " Z A M O R A

I am being seen so different at this point in my life. People

see me as strong for pushing through the time I have been gone, but they never see how fragile I feel all the time. They don’t understand the constant pain, or the constant thoughts that flow through my head. Being seen like this also affects the way people treat you. They tend to stop doing and asking the things that matter. Simple things like, “How are you doing?” or “ I love and miss you.” “I can’t wait for you to come home.” “I’ll be there to see you.”

And doing things like visits, sending letters, books, magazines, and money. Also, they forget where you come from. All they see is the new you. They never see what or who you were. They don’t know that all the smiles and laughs are to keep from crying, to keep from falling off and back into old ways. They never see the relapse, but I push anyways cause, at this point, I got no choice.

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IT'S ANOTHER LIFE IN HERE A. DUCKINS

When you think of prison, you think of gangs fighting or someone getting raped. It’s another life in here. I meet a lot of good people who should have a 2nd chance so we think of Prison Reform. A lot of new rules come out. We have like two 20-minute phone calls a day, so people try to find other ways to talk to their families. Sometimes they send your visitors away because of what they have on. We all just want a good time.

The other day to day is being broke. Having no money and no support system. Some people only can go to the store on state pay. We call them state babies. State pay is $10 a month unless you have a job, which can be up to $28 dollars. Having money lets you know what kind of crew you can hang with. The rich guy crew gets all the phone calls, their boxes stay full with food, they get a lot of visits and wear the best IDOC blues. They talk all the big money stuff. They act like they’re better than everybody else.

I make it sound like I’m getting something out my teeth because I was one of them. I thought I was better than the rich guy crew because I didn’t have to call nobody for money because I had a lawsuit. I’ll tell them: “That not your money. Your family taking care of you.”

That was before the money ran out. Overspending. I did look out for my kids. I let the money go to my head when it was all gone. I had to get on the phone and I felt like I had to beg more because I always had a job. They know I needed it every month. Then again, why do they have to take care of a grown man? Now I’m not with the money crew.

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I’m in the middle because it got worse. I got in some trouble. I had been fighting, had to go to the hole for 10 days and IDOC put me on C grade for 3 months. They take your TV, MP3, your phone calls, and your TV. So now I’m nervous because you got to trust somebody you don’t know to give your people a text, to ask them to send some money. Now I’m back to reading a lot of books, which is a good thing. Hanging in the day room, which I hate. You will not get along with everybody. Now I talk more to the state pay crew and you learn how to sell some of your stuff so you can eat. Like my pinky pics. Them pics got me thru hard times (Look, this jail...LOL) but they have to go.

Now I’m thinking like I don’t have that much time left. Come on, Prison Reform! Come on, good time! I hope this don’t mess me up because I’m 85%. It’s harder on us. I just want to go home. It’s harder now.

I can’t talk to nobody who loves me, only through mail. Can’t look at my own TV. I just will not let money let me forget where I came from and keep praying that I go home soon. Allah knows best.

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BABY GIANT SON SON TERRION POUNCY To Terrion Jr.,

Close your mouth when you chew. Don’t whine, only females

do that. Let the toilet seat down after you pee. Girls get mad when you don’t always listen. Even when you think someone is wrong, always respect your elders. Never let anyone put their hands on you. If someone say they gone touch you, touch them first. Have eye contact when you talking to someone. When you tell yourself or someone else you gone do something, do it. Always, I repeat, always have discipline in yourself.

Family first. Don’t ever let anything or anyone sidetrack you, ever. If you fall, get back up. And don’t blame it on the bump. In other words, you make a mistake, learn from it, don’t try to justify the mistake. Take care of your health before you fall sick; your wealth before you become poor; your free time before you become busy; your youth before you become old; and your life before your death.

Words from the wise man, Your Father

RAAMSE MORRIS

I BEEN LONELY I been lonely. I been learning New things about human behavior.

Now, I love to love myself. Be confident.

See people for them, not as an object.

Talk about my feelings, At least with myself.

Maybe we all will understand One Day We’re connected to each other.

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A SPECIAL NOTE TO SOMEONE SPECIAL E R IC D. B L A K E Dear Grandma,

Patricia Blake. Grandma. You are my world and nothing can change that. When I was a kid, I couldn’t leave your side. I was always at your house from when I was a little kid all the way till now. You are the lady that made sure I always had a meal three times a day and a place to stay.

Growing up, I was a problem child, but always had my way as a little boy. We were never rich, but we were never poor.

Grandma, you had four kids plus little ‘ol me. My mother was your first born. At this point it was the middle of the 90s, but growing up, grandma you did your best to make sure I did mine.

You are the best lady in the world. Every time one of my friends or ladies met you, Gram, right away they loved you.

Grandma, you disliked a lot of things I did, but if it made me happy, you would be by my side, no matter what happened in my life.

Gram, I just wanted you to know that through all the situations, you’re the person that’s been there no matter what.

You’ve always showed me the love that nobody could ever give me.

I remember when I was little, you cooking me breakfasteggs, toast, sausage. I’d wake up on the couch in the front room and you were already awake, making me food.

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I remember you laughing while telling my mom not to film

me. I was a baby and crying, but my mom thought it was cute. I remember being goofy and you’d laugh with me.

One day, I remember watching you shampoo your hair. You were leaning in over the sink. I kept putting more shampoo on you, and you realized what I was doing and started to laugh.

When we talked about weed getting legalized, I’d joke with you about driving you to smoke. You never approved of it.

I remember when you came to visit me two weeks ago. You were giving me advice. When I was a child I wouldn’t listen to your advice because I thought I knew better. Now that I’m older, and want to listen to you, I’m worried because I’m not sure you know the legal system.

You’ve always been there for me, supporting me. We weren’t rich, but you always loved me. You’d sit and talk with anyone for hours. You can talk to anyone. It’s one of the things I love about you.

When I did good, you bragged about me.

When I published my memoir, "Revolution of Pain", mom told me you were crying. That brought joy to my heart, knowing I made you cry because of something I did great.

My fear is I won’t be able to make you happy with all the good I can do in the world. I want to see you happy. And that’s my mission that I hope and pray that I can complete.

You were always there--good and the bad. You, my grandma, stuck to my side. With that saying: I Love You Always, Gram, Eric

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TOMORROW DARYL "DOC" BROWN

December 28, 1982. I awake to what I thought would be another normal Chicago day. That day a phone call changed my life forever.

Let’s go back about a week in time. I had planned to go to Los Angeles for Christmas to visit my Mother, brother, uncle, and cousins.

I was to leave the Saturday before Christmas. I was at the bar of a man named Charlie that I respected like my father. In comes temptation: a gentleman performing card tricks. Three card molly was the trick. Find the red card out of the three (two other black cards). I watched and knew I could find it. He was placing bets and all of a sudden I thought I could double the money I had for the trip.

Well, that didn’t work out. I lost all my money, even after I was warned not to play by Charlie. I asked Charlie to loan me the money so I could go, but he refused because of my disobedience. “Okay,” I thought.

“I will go for New Years after I get paid the next week. Problem solved.”

December 28. “Ring! Ring! Ring!

“Hello.”

“Hello, I’m calling to let you know your mother passed away last night.” My heart could have stopped at that second. The blame I put upon myself has taught me a valuable lesson till this very day.

Never put off what you can do today until tomorrow.

BLACK CURSE TORY J. BIBBS

They hate the fact my skin is darker than dirt. My Mama told me, “Son, you are a black king.” Police see me, pull their guns out, and scream. Section 8 coming up: I had nothing.

I guess that’s why other kids and teachers look at me funny.

I learned Malcom X was killed by his own brothers, and my Mother had better days. Since Michael, my Mother ain’t been the same. I grew up fighting out of rage. You see, since Jim Crow they pit us against each other. I’m all gang gang. I’m a drug dealer, better known as thuggin. I hate my brother and that’s just what them people wanted. In this dark space, I learned this ain’t what Dr. King and Mr. X was fighting for. I’m learning it’s time to put the guns down and start looking out more.

You see my Mother told me the way, but it’s up to me as a black man to show others the way. Think twice about doing what ya doing. Street love is the curse me and black brothers are pursuing. No more false dreams for me. I’m gone bow my head and thank the Lord the day I will be free. Peace.

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A LOOK OUT THE WINDOW A L E X W E AT H E R S P O O N

As I looked out the window, I realized that living in the hood is crazy. It was about 2 in the morning when I looked out my grandmother’s window and saw a girl running and screaming Help at the top of her lungs. The girl was lightskinned complexion with long hair. At the time, I was only about 14 years old. I was living with my grandmother and my father in the Englewood area of Chicago on the South Side. The girl was being chased by a dark brown conversion van. I kept hearing a man yell at the girl stating that he was going to kill her. Everytime the girl would run, the van would speed up to where she ran, and everytime the girl would turn back around to run the way that she had come from, the van would come to a screeching halt then reverse to chase her down. The girl was screaming and crying while running, and I was just thinking out loud in my head like, where is the police when you need them?

The girl ran past my grandmother’s house for the second time, but this time the man jumped out of the van with a crowbar and chased the girl himself back and forth in the middle of the street in front of our house. The girl took off running through our gangway, and I took off through the house. As I was running through the house, all I could hear was the van tires burning rubber trying to locate the girl.

When I got to the back of the house, I opened the back door 24

and the girl was just running past me as I opened the door. She was so afraid and trying to save her life that she didn’t even recognize that she just had run past me. I yelled out to the girl to come on, “I got you. You can come hide in our house. Hurry up.� The girl hesitated for a second, but she came anyway. I closed the door and cut all the lights out in the house. I asked the girl why was the dude in the van chasing her? She told me that she had run away from home and she was tired of staying in the streets without eating, so she was trying to find a ride to take her home. Little did she know that dude in the van had a different type of plan for her.

He bought her something to eat then he tried to rape her.

She told me that he parked the van to the side of a block and asked her to have sex with him. When she declined to have sex with him, he then asked her to sell herself to him. Again, she declined. The man in the van then jumped on top of her, ripping and plowing her clothes apart until she fought him off and threw herself out of the van. She got up and started running for her life.

The girl told me that I was a life saver and she was so glad that I had the heart to help her. She told me that God was going to bless me. After me and the girl talked for awhile, I let her wash up to clean herself up and I gave her one of my jogging outfits to sleep in. We woke up the next morning to my father standing over us with a puzzled expression on his face.

He asked me what was going on? And why was this girl in my bed with me? Me and the girl explained the entire situation to him, and my father was proud of me for helping the girl.

My father cooked the both of us breakfast and we all 25

enjoyed each other’s company for a while until we decided that it was time for her to return home to her parents. My father took her to her house and her parents thanked us for helping and keeping her only child safe.

Now that I’ve grown up, I realize that no matter what kind of person you were or still are, everyone has a heart that beats. Everyone has some type of good in them. Everyone has a past, and everyone of us on God’s green earth goes through difficulties at some point in time in their lives. The thing is that we have to learn how to grow, how to change, and move forward in life with purpose.

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SCANDALOUS A N T H O N Y T. H AY N E S

She enticed me with her fancy hairstyle and inappropriate clothing that hugged her skin like it was painted on her body. Her gold jewelery bounced brightly off the sun that shined like a star in the night sky. Couldn’t help but to undress her in my mind, committing a sexual sin I had no control over. Little did I know her intentions were to destroy the king I had become. I fell right into the ditch she dug; it was a trap.

Her heart was like a net, and her arms were like chains.

I was caught like bait waiting to fill her appetite. Her thirst was quenched with a liquid substance that caused her to talk loudly and stumble, which made her very vulnerable. Letting her carry my message was like cutting off my own feet, knowing trouble was ahead. It is worse than death to be caught by this woman. If you ever meet her, run like an athlete training to win a race. This lady is a disgrace.

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DIOS MI AYUDADO BENIGNO ESCOBAR

Solo dios mi fortaleza porque apesar de las angustias las aficciones y los problemas sigo en pie aunque me bean (probably another word) solo pero no lo estoy porque sé que dios esta siempre conmigo aunque nadie me visite mi señor Jesus esta a mi lado yo lo siento en mi persona Dios dice en su palabra que no nos afligió cuando benga los problemas porque él nos toma de la mano para proseguir hacia adelante como dice una triste cancion si en la cárcel y en el hospital te visiten tu amigos es porque son amigos de verda pero eso es pura mientra cuando tus amigos te dicen que tu eres como mi hermano yo tenia muchos amigos aya en el mundo pero hoy en dia no me queda más que uno y ese si es amigo de verde el que lo quiere tener lo puede ese amigo no te pide nada a cambio alcontratario cuando estás en problemas opreoca pasiones te tiende la mano y esta aliento por ti y también pelea por ti no te deja por ningún motivo ni instante su nombre es Jesus de Nazareth en el entrego su vida por salvarnos a ti y a mi del infierno? Quiero relatarle mi historia aunque no de todo pero quiero decirles que Dios te da la oportunidad de escoger lo que tu quieres ser yo me encuentro tras las rejas por una noche de borrachera sin saber lo que aquella noche pasó solo Dios lo sabe pero quiero contarles que cuando caí en este lugar piense que todo estar acabado para mi quise opense quitarme la vida le dije a uno de mis amigos de este lugar ya se acabo mi vida yo no quiero vivir me voy a matar porque para mi no es vida.

GOD HELPED ME BENIGNO ESCOBAR

Only God is my strength because in spite of the anguish, the afflictions, and the problems, I still stand. Although I am alone, I am not because I know that God is always with me. Although nobody visits me, my lord Jesus is by my side. I feel it in my person. God says in his Word that we do not distress when He brings problems because he takes us by the hand to continue forward. As He says, it is a sad song. If your friends visit you in jail and in the hospital it is because they are true friends. And that is pure while your friends tell you that you are like my brother.

I had many friends there in the world, but today I have only one left.

If he is a friend of green who wants to have it, can that friend ask you nothing in return? On the contrary, when you are in trouble or passions, He reaches out to you and is encouraging of you and also fights for you. He does not leave you for any reason or moment. His name is Jesus of Nazareth.

He gave his life to save your life and my life from Hell? I want to tell you my story, but not everything. I want to tell you that God gives you the opportunity to choose what you want to be. I find myself behind bars for a night of drunkenness without knowing what happened that night. Only God knows. But I want to tell you that when I fell in this place, I thought that everything was over for me. I wanted to take my life. I told one of my friends in this place that my life is over. I do not want to live. I will kill myself because for me it is not life.

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TERRION POUNCY

6-WORD MEMOIRS Life is constant learning, growth, change.

Hunger, greed, pain, impatient, stumble, tired.

Hustle, grind, eat, feed, rise, survive.

Nothing lasts forever, but sometimes love.

Love can only conquer hate, always.

Stop just existing and start living.

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ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

INVISIBLE WOMAN I’m glad I don’t know what you look like, Yet. But I don’t stop imagining, Because your mind is amazing.

Your personality is beautiful.

You seem so honest & genuine.

Your witty humor surprises me.

Your kindness overwhelms me.

You’re special in every way imaginable.

I know very few people like you, Which makes me admire you so much more.

Our conversations make my day.

Thank You.

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ANTHONY T. HAYNES

6-WORD MEMOIRS Life’s a dice game, sometimes you crap.

Live for today. Hope for tomorrow.

Learning from past tense; conquer future.

Holding commemorations; deceased will never die.

Constant fight between wrong and right.

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TO BE INVISIBLE IS TO BE FREE IRELL DICKENS

“To be invisible is to be free” means that you can be free when you are not seen. No problems, no drama that life has to bring, and you can still take care of your responsibilities. To live a peaceful and serene life. If it’s safe to say, peace and free can be the same thing because being at peace is being free with yourself and others.

I feel invisible to the world when I leave my house, get in my car, go shopping, go to work, and go out with my family.

I feel this because I am able to take care of my responsibilities.

Waking up early in the morning, getting my kids ready for school, dropping them off at school: this peace and invisibility gives me freedom to move about my life without harm or danger. Being a protector and provider gives me peace and freedom to be able to tend to my manly and fatherly duties.

Being invisible, there is no attraction to drama, as I peacefully, freely live my life. I believe visibility is trouble that can cause problems in my life; whereas invisibility protects and keeps me safe from danger. Moving in silence or being free.

I feel like I’m free, even though I’m in jail, because of peace. I am free because I am reformed. I am invisible to the eye that doesn’t search.

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M. JORGENSEN

6-WORD MEMOIRS Woke. Hope it’s not too late.

Getting better at the broken places.

Raged, aged, and caged in beige.

The spaces between visible and invisible.

Visibility; the shadow cast by invisible.

Finding tiny dimples in ugly spaces.

Being present is the best present.

Loving spaces within your invisible places.

Never broke if you push love.

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ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

11-16-19 Who’d a thought you B4 me?

The chances of you dying multiply When niggas see you tryna succeed.

Cuz I’ma pay you back for Everything you ever did for me.

And I’ma get out to be everything You never got to be.

I hope you looking through my eyes So you can see everything you never Got to see.

And I look up to you cuz until you Got to heaven, you ain’t ever Look down on me.

And I hope you looking and listening, cuz Pretty soon you gon be proud of me.

And I can’t wait to see you again My nigga. So save me a cloud And some Hennessy.

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DARYL "DOC" BROWN 36

6-WORD MEMOIRS Never forget the people you pass.

Always look for the real me.

You’ll see me, if you look.

Never hide who you really are.

SUMMER RAIN A N T H O N Y T . H AY N E S

Forgive me for becoming focused on particular situations and crises that caused me to lose sight of our empire. My life was like a Maserati and Immaturity caused me to go down a bumpy road rather than down the interstate. Making things appear gloomy, not noticing the whole time I had summer rain. I now understand the meaning of “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.”

I’ve got to admit we’ve had many dreary days, but your presence brought the sunshine back again. You were only trying to draw my eyes and heart back to a better destiny.

Your love was incredible, unforgettable with a lusciousness sweeter than honey dipped from the honeycomb. I hold on to the day you will flourish and make it rain, which puts me to sleep and wakes me up again. LBS (laughing but serious) sometimes it’s better to rearrange the words and ideas for a clearer look. Kieshonna, no other love compares to yours.

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JULIUS "JUICE"

6-WORD MEMOIRS Muzzled, silenced, torn down, and hurt.

Loved by few, respected by all.

No fear in my heart; Ambition.

Cash rules everything around. For real.

I saw death; he saw me.

Alpo snitched and still got life.

I’m sorry Ma, I know now.

Head bowed, no tears, just prayer.

Married to the streets. Got divorced.

I love you, Londyn Julihanna Francelino.

I know people I can’t remember.

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ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

PHOENIX From the ashes I rise.

A Phoenix in disguise As a serpent in demise As the flames that interrupt rise, So will I. Against all odds I will take the steps To rise above The silly stereotypes our system seems to love.

I will rise From the endless thoughts Of endless nights In a endless cycle Of endless pain Full of endless lies I will rise.

For all the eyes Of all the youth In helpless times We will rise 39

ERIC D. BLAKE 40

6-WORD MEMOIRS Hope is alive while faith’s forever.

We are free as a bird.

Mess up, change ways, look back.

DARYL "DOC" BROWN

OBSCURE DAYS, WHY? When my days turn gloomy and light seems to evade my existence, I have the propensity to question why.

I then open my mind and engage my thoughts to try to learn a reason for this darkness, but then I cry.

My heart throbs for relief, for the air around me seems so very thin.

I ask my friends but no answers are revealed, so I question myself again.

I cry out but no one seems to see me or hear.

I ask myself “Am I invisible?”, then shed another tear.

In this darkness, I’m unable to find any help I continue to search, but stumble with every step.

I try to escape from the gloominess of this day but this darkness always seems to cloud my way.

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I kneel down on my knees and ask the One I should have first, “Why can’t I find my way?” and “Please help me to stop the hurt.”

He answered, “My son, always call me, and I will light your way.

You are never invisible to me, please listen to what I say.”

Now I know when gloomy and dark days appear, There is someone, always close and very dear.

He then told me, “If you follow me, you will always have light.

You’re always visible to me, so go on. Continue and finish the fight.

Now, when more dark and gloomy days appear again, I know who to call on: “Jesus”, my friend.

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JULIUS "JUICE"

I MET DEATH: PART 1

CLAIRVOYANT AND CONCISE The first time I seen death I was with my brother.

We ran fast and escaped his clutches.

He wanted us bad; feel the chill in my bones.

Gun jammed up, God ain’t let him call me home.

Death is always near. Me and my brother never fear, when the Reaper come knockin, we open the door and let him in.

Got a death wish.

Why you think I drink and drive, poppin pills on D'usse?

Fake friends only care when you die.

The Reaper finally got em.

I ain’t cry when I lost my brother.

I stuffed that pain deep down cause I knew that his Time was coming.

Death -is- like- Freddy Kruger, skulking after me.

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JULIUS "JUICE"

Unspoken words, with my actions loud and clear.

I ain’t scared of no death.

I’ll be waitin.

I know when he’s near.

I feel him. You feel it?

I bet you don’t.

I witnessed, you didn’t.

You don’t even know that me and Mr. Death been playing this game for a long time.

It’s a Tom and Jerry type relationship except I’m not running: I’m standing tall.

I’m very clairvoyant and concise. Intellectually different from the next man, so read between the lines because I know where my lines end.

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JR

6-WORD MEMOIRS Show better than you can tell.

After the storm, the sun shines.

Don’t need friends; got my brother.

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THIS IS ME DA RYL WI LLI A M S

This shit I call life hasn’t always been so f-ed up. I actually had a pretty good childhood, even though I grew up without a mother or father. I always had my sisters, and in reality that was all I really needed. That was the love I was missing from my mother. My sisters did all that they could for me, and they’re still doing it, even though I’m grown as shit now. But sometimes it doesn’t matter how old you are; everybody needs somebody. My loved ones always told me that it’s ok to need or ask for help if you need it. When people say a woman can’t raise a man, it is a damn lie. It’s harder on them, but look at me. I am a man that loves my family, sisters, kids, and my life. I love where I am from; I am proud of my life and the man I have become.

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IRELL DICKENS

6-WORD MEMOIRS Being seen is to be touched.

I’ll give up, when it’s complete.

My weaknesses turned into my strengths.

Love is affection, love is patience.

I love who I can’t hate.

Too much will never be enough.

The first one is the last.

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MY HATE TORY J. BIBBS

I hate jail. The walls that separate fresh air from my lungs. The CO’s that keep hitting my cell door while being checked. The people that look at me funny, or ask where I’m from like they know me. The fact my kids are growing up without a father. The mothers of my children who don’t care to write me or answer my calls.

I think of what happened that night: July 17. The judge who asks how I’m doing as if she cares. The long wait to the court date just for the white people next to me to say they’re not ready. I only pray I’m forgiven for my falling.

NAQUAN T. RICHARDSON

6-WORD MEMOIRS Excited, anxious, longing to be there.

Discipline, love, integrity--making of Dad. A little less color-everything’s alright.

In me you will see, truth!

Damn, I hate who I love.

Father, can you hear me? Now!

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ERIC D. BLAKE

LIFE'S DARKEST SECRETS Life is dark even on a sunny day.

Life is dark ‘cause I feel that God made it that way.

I pray that I make it to see the better days.

I’ve made so many mistakes that God had to pray.

Life’s been so bad that even the Devil asked me to play.

I’ve lost a lot of good friends due to two places, the states, and the graves.

My friend got to do 63 years, so you know what that means.

He’ll never be free.

I deep down hate life but nothing was never said.

I prayed to God but I felt like he never listened.

I look at myself and feel like something’s missing.

But deep down, I know what’s missing.

I am broken!

Ever since I was just a ‘lil kid, my best friend took a pistol.

I shouldn’t have to say. You should know the rest.

Simple as said, the boy ended up dead.

Life’s dark and that’s all I have to say.

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D. WALLACE

6-WORD MEMOIRS Be awesome, be brave, be inspiring

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TERRION POUNCY

CONFUSED WITH MYSELF What would’ve happened if I waited?

I can’t ask that question though.

I am who I am.

Growing up, since I can remember, In 2nd grade I asked myself, “Why do I do the things I do?”

“Why do I say the things I say?”

“Why do I love the rough life?”

“How did I end up in the place I’m in now?”

Was it a wrong step?

Am I wrong for being me?

The only person I know how to be.

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DARYL WILLIAMS

6-WORD MEMOIRS Love not worth holding on to.

I'm a person, not a number.

I hate that I love you.

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HOPE IS GONE DERRICK D. SMITH I have been locked in the cage for too long. It’s beginning to feel like a job to me.

My days are passing by faster and faster, and it looks like my life will end without hope.

I have suffered night after night. It drags on and on. And this bed gives me no comfort. When I lie down, you scare me with dreams and frighten me with visions. I have lost everything I loved in this world. Will I get a second chance to enjoy this life?

All these things that have happened to me are very painful, like a sword cutting through my heart. I don’t have the power to help myself because all hope of success has been taken away from me. My plans are destroyed. I am sad. My heart is broken, and I am ruined.

Month after month after frustrating month have gone by. I ask the Lord to give me some support because no one else will. Family has turned against me. To my friends, my name has become a bad word. I feel like a bug that someone brushed away.

My life is like a short breath, and I am ready to give up. The grave is waiting for me. I have no hope to go on living with nothing to look forward to. Now, I am only a poor helpless man, sitting here in the CCDOC waiting for Judgment Day. I am ashamed of myself, and I am so sorry for my family and friends that’s going through this with me. I love you all.

Even through all this pain, my heart has been changed.

DERRICK D. SMITH

6-WORD MEMOIRS I'm not Jack, he’s my son.

I believe what I can’t see.

The love a mother never knew.

Known many people; I don’t anymore.

Look at me, see my pain.

Ones you love, don’t love you.

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JULIUS "JUICE"

WHO AM I I’m deep rooted and when the sun Shines on me I show many colors.

In the dark, my clarity still has The potential to be the prettiest sight on Earth. Who am I? I drop jewels on the rich and famous They pay with their last to See me dance. Who am I? Back home my people fight to protect me and the enemy- he fights to steal me From home. Who am I?

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The rich and famous don’t care my People were killed and I was stolen From home before I could be their salvation.

Who Am I? In the country I’m from, the enemy used Me to build tourist attractions and fill Their pockets tenfold. Who am I? Who am I? Help me find out Before the enemy steals me from Home again.

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THE LIFE T E R R E L L " W A K I L" S M I T H

The Life-- Everybody wants to live it. But a majority die in the midst of attempting to obtain the highest style possible, forgetting to cherish the duration. Moments captured by the camera in your brain, and recorded and stored in your mind’s archive, accessible and encouraged by hardships, fatalities, misfortunes, trials, and tribulations, that trigger the need to recollect on a sentimental event that took place, alleviating the suffering to a certain degree, though not sufficient enough to completely cure you. Thus, Life must continue as is, simply because the focal point of waking up everyday is to die again every night.

With that being stated, I ponder what purpose could be greater than death. I answer my own question: existence is the most amazing thing because it ends. Not the day I was born, not the day that I die, but everything in between--from economic advancement to spiritual enlightenment--every inevitable experience is welcome. I will do it. I will enjoy it. I will loathe it. I will live it. The Life.

ULISES ALMARAZ

A PAST LIFE A past life as a sheath Incarnated as Idea’s pen I rose again only to be forgotten Lost in time when he died Forever put in the back of your mind I swung my pain I ripped the hearts of the world But you left me like an orphan In the past I was A child Only to not recognize that child again I’m More innocent now Never again guilty Childhoods of hoods Pain & hate Lost in your book of names Gone You left me in your diary So upon the concrete I break until I bleed

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THE PAST WON'T LET US LAST A N T H O N Y H AY N E S

It always seems to be something in the past that won’t let us last. One topic brings up apathy and has us bogged down by past situations. We lived to please ourselves and when things didn’t go our way, we grumbled and lost sight of what we were trying to accomplish. We struggled with sharp retorts and language laced with bitterness to comfort our selfish desires. In order to move forward, we have to have a clean slate and forgive past burdens. Holding on to grudges defeats happiness, overwhelms forgiveness. There are things that have lasting value and our relationship is one, so don’t emphasize the past! Focus on our future. There is no hope or purpose in the pain, exhaustion, and confusion that surrounded us. If it doesn’t add up to our present priorities, we need to decline them. But I cannot prevail on my own cause when I continued to push, you just pulled away. If it’s meant to be, you will dispel all grievances and be willing to revert back to the love we once had and all bickering will stay in the past.

NOT ABOUT YOU: IT'S ABOUT ME DARYL WILLIAMS I started this off as a letter to you, but ultimately, the writing helped me remember the man I am. I don’t wanna make it seem like this is about you, cause it’s not. It is more so about me finally seeing myself as not the “perfect person,” but as a person, a man with morals. It’s crazy. I sit in class and all I can think about is this person, you. It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore. On the outside, I was this person that felt like I was needed, not only as a parent, brother, husband, but also as the person who always gets the job at hand done.

But it’s okay, cause I still have people in my life that let me know I am needed beyond these walls.

My life has a purpose. I am not God, but I am my kids’ superhero. I like to call myself Superdad, so I try to live up to that by making not only my kids happy and putting the biggest smiles on their faces, but also everyone that I come in contact with. I try to leave the best impression and let them know I am still the same man that I will always be.

Even though I am in jail, locked behind a wall, my mind is still free and so will my body be, real soon. The life I live is not only for me, but also for my love, my kids. I live for them. I love to love and to be loved. I get a rush like I’ve been drinking coffee for 48 hours straight when I accomplish a goal I set out to do, or when I make one of my loved ones happy. I don’t know but I guess it’s just me and the man I am. I feed off of other people’s accomplishments. So, know that I am not a bad person. You can’t even look at my past and say I’m a bad person, so just accept me as I am: a man, a father, and a man with morals.

I bet you think this short piece is about you, but it’s not. It’s about me remembering who I am, who I will always be.

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WICKED INTENTIONS A N T H O N Y T . H AY N E S They come to gather gossip and spread rumors. They never say what they’re thinking when they come to see me. Like the feeling of holding a secret, but never revealing it. Intentions of the wicked who watch and seek for weaknesses.

Showing the ass-end of their personality which reveals their true character. My conscious tells me they hate me and whisper about me. Hopefully they know that the tongue can speak words that bring life or death. Those who love to talk should be ready to accept what it brings. Even the one I trusted, the one who ate with me, turned against me. It’s like they pay me back with evil for the good I’ve done.

They are pregnant with wicked intentions and give birth to evil desires and suffering. They don’t understand a true friend could be better than a brother. These words come from my tongue as from the pen of a skilled writer.

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INVISIBLE D AV E F O N

I’ve never felt more invisible than I do right now. I’m a number in a machine. This is nothing new. I was born a number in a machine-- we all are. That’s our social security number’s function. I’ve been a number in an even more dehumanizing machine since 2005. R-49089 is my true name to the world. I am struck by the irony that my whole life as a drug addict, thief and a drug dealer, I avoided doing any real jail time. I survived in good health while scores of bodies piled up around me, the forgotten casualties of the drug war. I may also be forgotten, but I’m not gone yet. I had actually gotten my shit together enough to start a family, have a nice job, a career even, and a family dog. It looked like I had achieved the American dream after all. I still had my problems with addiction, but I had them hidden and mostly suppressed. I made it to work everyday, and loved my job. My clients loved me and I was making good money. For the first time in my life, I actually had something to lose. I thought my skeletons were safely packed away in my closet.

I was wrong. My wife, in every sense but the legal one, has a drinking problem as well and was going thru a real spell of drunk craziness. I was just avoiding dealing with her and trying to sweep it all under the rug. I figured I would just wait it out and things would fix themselves. I had no really good options. If I tried to force help on her, DCFS only does harm. If I called the cops, odds are I would get in trouble-or worse: DCFS would take the kids and ruin their lives. I didn’t 63

know any other method of dealing with this that would not destroy my family other than avoidance and cover up. The fact I am a felon made it even harder to deal with this situation, as any problems that come up are magnified automatically by the police and courts. I was angry over all the crazy drama, and I felt helpless. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. I had dreams about jail. I warned Marissa that something bad was going to happen to us if we didn’t cut out the crazy arguments and drunken bullshit. I just didn’t know it would be me, or that it would be so bad.

Feb 5, 2019 was the last day of my freedom and I didn’t even know it. I got to work tired and worn out from another night of dealing with Marissa’s drinking problems and emotional acting out. To be fair, I could’ve been better about being emotionally supportive over the recent loss of her father. As it was, I was tired of her shit and tired of carrying her dead weight while she spent all of my money having gin delivered through some app on her phone. She also had been causing trouble with my ex wife, and giving me shit about my oldest son, Odinn, from my first marriage. I was ready to leave Marissa, and was through taking her shit. I left work planning on staying at my aunt’s and getting a bit of dope on the way.

Left my oldest son Odinn at his mother’s. I’d been getting crazy texts and calls all day, and planned on avoiding the hassle, but my roommate called and said she was going out and Marissa was too wasted to look after the kids and I had to come home.

The weather was ominous as I made my way down Touhy from the 90-94 expressway back towards my house. My ancient Ford Crown Vic wanted to wreck the whole time as we drove through the worst snow storm of the year on my balding tires.

My worn out car was a perfect match for my barely functional life. It was reliable and got the job done, but could go out at any time. To complete the perfect storm, there was no parking at all to be had in the whole area of Rogers Park around my house. I wanted to park and go in and at least get high before another night of dramatic nonsense. So once again, I parked in my neighbor Mr. Quin’s spot. He let me in and even gave me the window marker for the spot, but this other asshole I got into it with kept getting me towed all the time. I was sick of getting into it with the shit company called “Lincoln Towing” that is literally known for its corruption and shittiness. I step in from the miserable snow storm to the sound of my baby son’s frantic crying. Marrisa was passed out drunk on the floor, and my little man was standing in the tub bawling his eyes out, cold and terrified. I grabbed him up and started consoling him as my blood reached a full boil. I found a half bottle of gin hidden in the closet and took it for myself.

I took my camera and filmed Marrisa passed out on the floor, cussed her out and told her what a piece of shit she was in the most brutal terms I could.

I was making videos to help cover my ass because whenever I tried to leave in a fight she would do shit like hit herself or scream for help like I was hurting her as a way to extort me into staying home when I sought to bail out of the situation. I planned to document this stuff so I wouldn’t get into trouble if she made some bogus reports in a drunken rage (she’d done this before). Long story short, it was a shit show.

I got drunk and smoked pot and cigarettes all night, boiling mad in the kitchen watching my car so it wouldn’t get towed.

I ended up not sleeping a wink, or even sitting down the whole

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night, hanging out with my dog until the morning. That’s how I spent the last of my life as the head of my household and a free man. I felt close to invisible as I stared at my car and nursed my gin, smoking cigarette after cigarette, boiling mad and pretty much helpless to fix anything. In hindsight, it's easy to see I was a ticking time bomb, primed and ready to explode. Marrissa had come out a few times and tried to get me to come to bed. I couldn’t stand the thought of going to bed with her at the time, but looking back I should have just laid it down and slept it off.

I didn’t, though. Instead I seethed and boiled in a quiet rage, and sought to flee the house as soon as possible. I got my dog, Lola, and started to try and leave for a long walk, probably stopping at a liquor store on the way to nowhere. I was accosted by a guilt-ridden Marissa who wanted to make sure I didn’t leave her for good. She physically stopped me from leaving, no doubt with the best of intentions, but my quiet rage was on the verge of boiling over. As a compromise, we as a family took the dog for a walk and relieved the anger some. I was tired of fighting and wanted to have fun, especially since I had the day free until the evening. I was tired of fighting over her drinking and figured if you can’t beat them, join them. I also was really worn out and stressed out and hoped to taste sweet oblivion from the bottle until I couldn’t think anymore. We stopped at the local liquor store at like 9am and got a fifth of Prairie Organic Gin, a bottle of tonic water and some limes, and of course a pack of my favorite “Bugler” rolling tobacco.

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I told her, “Let’s have a nice day.” I planned on getting

wasted and falling into the shadows of oblivion outside of the hassle and bassle world of the living. Instead, I fell into the abyss, from which I have yet to return. I don’t remember much, and what I do is bits and pieces of consciousness from a deep blackout. The day ended with me in jail booked to the max, and my wife Marissa in the hospital by my hand. I exploded that day and laid waste to my family, my career, and my freedom. I failed my children, my wife, my ex-wife, my boss, and everyone I know. My clients waited on appointments that never came. Marissa and the kids wait on calls from the abyss in the cornfields. I didn’t mean to lose it. I never thought I could go so far astray. Now my oldest son is lost in the system, my dog Lola is someone else's dog and my future is grim.

I have joined the invisible hidden men, the ghosts in the cornfields. I’ve become a number alone. I am R-49089, another forgotten father, lost son, lover, brother or friend turned into a number and forgotten by most as if dead. Receiving letters and prayers from the few who care, invisible to the rest. Speaking out through my pen, full of shame and regret.

Hoping and planning to make it right, not knowing how, once again lost and hopeless. Grasping at the loose ends.

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TO NOAH NAQUAN T. RICH ARDSON To Noah,

Growing up I always had parents that loved me. I was loved physically, emotionally, and financially. My Mother showed me physical and emotional love. When I got in trouble in school, she was always there to discipline me verbally and physically. When I first got a bike in California when I was 6 years old, I fell off the bike many times. My Mom was always there to pick me up and help me try again.

She also showed a lot of emotional love towards me. I was the first born son of 6 kids she has in total, and she never let me forget that.

Now, my father on the other hand, he was always there for me but not in the way I wanted. He was always working, and he was in the Army. That required him to be away from his home and family. I remember times when he only came home 3 times a year. Truth be told, when he came home, he showed his love for us in many ways. He always took us out to multiple places, like out to eat and other family establishments.

He also came home and whooped our asses to discipline us for mistakes we made while he was absent in our life. He was never too absent. To me, he felt more invisible. Whenever I asked my mom for money, she always told me to call dad. Sometimes I would call, but most of the time I felt wrong. I told my mom, “I don’t feel right calling 68

him for money when I don’t call everyday to make sure he is well and alive.”

I was young and didn’t truly understand that not communicating with my father would affect and impact my life. I never had that father and son bond that I want and crave.

That’s my focus and reason I am telling you this now.

It is most important for me to have that father and son bond with you. And having you, Noah, is another chance at the life I want! Don’t get me wrong, your grandfather and I did build a great relationship. We created this relationship when I was 15 years old. My parents got divorced and my dad got custody of us. We moved to New York with him for the last year he would be in the Army. We made a great relationship like no other. We talked about all sorts of things and he focused on my feelings.

We also had many talks about girls, but that’s not the point.

The point I’m trying to make to you is, I don’t want the same life for you. I don’t want to be an invisible father that provides mostly and you barely see me. I want to be the father that's there for you physically, emotionally, and financially. I want to bond with you everyday of my life. I need to do that for us!

Noah, I have made a mistake that has taken 2 years out of our lives. I am sitting here in jail away from you and your mother because I made a mistake to be around the wrong crowd of people. My father also told me to not hang around the same person that got me here. Obviously, I didn’t listen and now I am missing some of the most important years of your life. It hurts me knowing I wasn’t there to take you to school for the first time. I missed you losing your first tooth. I’m not there to help you with your homework and watch Teen Titans with 69

you. I can’t help you brush your teeth or kiss you goodnight.

I’m missing all this and so much more because I made a bad choice, a mistake. And I’m sorry Noah!

I miss and love you and your mom. I am working on making better decisions and making it home to you. I didn’t listen to my father and the result of that has cost me time away from my family. So listen when I say that you need to listen and respect your mother. Stop acting up in school and respect your elders. Be a good boy for me and mommy. I love you and I will be home soon.

P.S. Be ready for your discipline and whooping.

ANDREW "FATBOY" ZAMORA

SOUL FOOD Shorty turn’t to the streets Just so that he could eat.

Tryna fill his little tummy Put some sneaks on his feet.

When he seen his homey die, It just made him a beast.

All those long lonely nights He fed his soul to the streets.

Now he’s sitting in a cell Thinking, “What happened to me?”

All the scars on his heart, All the pain in disguise, You can see he lost his conscience If you look in his eyes.

You can tell by his vibe

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That you know he gon ride.

But if you look a little closer, You can tell he wants better, It’s been storming all his life.

He just wants brighter weather.

He just wants back his brother.

He just wants back his sister.

He just wants someone to answer the phone & say that they miss him.

Let ‘em know that they got him, & the money gon be there.

That they still ain’t forgot ‘em.

All the letters he ain’t get: They’ll take their time to rewrite ‘em.

All them visits he ain’t get:

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Its cuz the County denied ‘em.

Just wants his Pops to explain That when he seen ‘em in the bullpen Why he ain’t recognize ‘em. & why them drugs matter more Than your son making the store. & if them days sleeping in Were worth missing his court.

Cuz he ain’t ever turn around & felt so lonely before.

If it gets worse before it’s better, He’s afraid what’s in store.

Cuz only thing worse than this Is ending up as a corpse.

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GOOD AND EVIL D. ARRINGTON

I can remember standing over the body after it happened. My heart racing, head spinning, high off a type of forbidden power that was both heady and unfamiliar compared to the drugs I was used to, and off of, at the time. My breaths came in shallow rapid succession. The air around me thick with musk, alcohol, and a copperish overtone. My arms sticky and stiff with drying blood. My first thought right after it happened was a question: am I evil?

The problem with this question is the concept of evil varies from person to person. It doesn’t seem to be a state of mind as much as it is a perception, which is confusing when I seek to take personal inventory and cannot find an absolute sum to this mindset or emotional disposition that may or may not exist and determines the fate of my immortal soul.

I didn’t want this to happen; but I did what I didn’t want to do, didn’t I? If I’m honest with myself I’ve made a living off of doing what I didn’t want to do. What most people don’t know is what you do is not necessarily who you are. Times are complicated now and the line between right and wrong blurs relative to a person’s goals and surroundings.

As a child, I had to recategorize my emotions based on my situation and environment. The image of reality that I was fed in school was a much duller, simplistic form than what I was witnessing on the street. As I grew older, I calibrated my emotional output for survival rather than health. I surrendered to a stereotypical slavery that is so vast and overpowering that, looking back on it, I can’t even blame myself for the failure. Our society is made up of slots, niches, and standing. In this world, 74

you don’t go where you want as much as you go where you fit in. Still, in this system, I fell victim to another problem. No room. Every time I tried to fit myself in productively, there was no room.

Outside of peace on earth and good will toward men. Outside of land of the free, home of the brave. Even outside of you can grow up to be anything you want to be. There is a senseless, feelingless, tasteless world. A world that raised me to forget about what feels right and instead focus on what makes sense. The problem with this is there is no equation for the human soul, and no redemption for actions made out of logic.

I sit in jail now on my way to prison thinking about all the ideals and images that I revered while I was free. How pointless and unimportant they seem now. If it isn’t good for the soul we shouldn’t feed it to the mind because once the mind is corrupted, the soul follows. It’s fate.

I have always been afraid of hell. The quality of life was so bad in this reality that I couldn’t imagine a worse one. As a child I was physically and verbally abused, the effects of which made me awkward and unsure in the race to fit in. A race in which the effort was almost as exhausting and agonizing as the failure. Most of that was before the voices.

The only light was what I could be. I knew these people who radiated warmth and goodness but had these horrible stories of obstacles to overcome. I was inspired, if not a little misguided, into believing that salvation, wisdom, and success only came through great pain and suffering.

I embraced the struggle openly and alone with little choice in the matter and soon found myself spiritually choked by it. The trespasses against me were frequent and innumerable, so it didn’t take long for pain 75

to become anger or anger to become confusion. The final descent is when this confusion turns into rage.

It is very difficult for me to explain how my attitudes and opinions evolve from this environment to that situation. As a human being, my emotions fluctuate. As an imperfect being, I am capable of lying to myself and believing it. They say God created man in his image, but only the devil operates within reason. I am ambitious and given to breaking rules easily. I am possessed of a shameless curiosity and have a severe lack of self control. But I can also be kind and sympathetic. Generous and giving. Good and evil are one side of the same coin, and only time will tell which side I land on next.

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JOHNATHAN REZA

LADY JUSTICE Lady Justice, what have you become?

Mothers crying because you done her son wrong You used to care about what was right It's as if you lost sight You supposed to see the truth, yet don a blindfold Guilty til innocent, truth be told How could you let so many corrupt your beautiful eyes?

Letting the D.A and State fill you with lies Oh wonderful justice, what happened to you?

Is it that you seen so much wrong it changed you existence?

Or was your creation a mirage at first instance?

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EXISTENCE IN A SNOW GLOBE M. JORGENSEN

Sometimes it hurts to speak up, speak out, and stop. Sometimes you’re silenced so much you become comfortable, or addicted to the invisibility. Sometimes the seen becomes your unseen and sometimes it’s just too much to keep on trucking along. Trauma, the majority of the time, is a scar not seen but hidden beneath layers of clothing and skin below the surface where the ego and superego lies, as Freud would put it. The conscious and subconscious can be built up and in the same instance, broken apart.

When you’re a child, you have very limited control of building up or breaking apart, essentially, what makes you You. Somehow I drew the short stick, and pain and suffering became my norm. I got complacent with the torture and torment so much that it was instilled inside me: “Stay numb.” Most likely from the rush, push, and overuse of my body producing cortisol as a result of the constant abuse.

Nothing I could say or do as his child was right, according to my supposed hero. Life for me was like existence in a snow globe. Outside viewing inside looks wonderful, but from the inside, you have no control of your limited space, while anyone looking in can shake things up similar to a blinding blizzard.

CLEAR ROAD AHEAD YA M D . I B A N E Z

Warm summer day. The sun shines bright as I drive through the country roads. The breeze hits my face while I drive at a steady speed, imagining the unimaginable. Living a dream I had when I was in high school, when I sat at my desk in class drawing the truck I would hope to one day have. The thought of that dream becoming reality, feeling invisible to the world. 18 years old, driving a Hummer H2.

Who could imagine it after being kicked out of school? I worked hard to get this truck, and here I am behind the wheel sitting tall, music turnt all the way, listening to old school freestyle. I begin to roll up the windows as I see the streetlight from a distance, shining green. Letting go of the gas pedal, reducing my speed to 35mph, entering the small town of Woodstock.

How I hate driving through this town. It upsets me how cautious I have to be, worrying about getting pulled over by a certain officer who's been at me since we first encountered each other. I know he’s still holding a grudge against me after I beat him in court twice. As I approach the light, it turns red and I come to a stop. I make a call to my boy Criminal, letting him know I’m going to stop by the gas station first and to be ready in 15 minutes.

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I pull in, fill up the tank for the long ride back to Chicago, and off I go again, this time taking the streets through town instead of the main road. I come up to a four-way stop, when at the same time a patrol car stops right after from the right side.

I don’t think much of it since they have no clue who’s behind the wheel since I have the windows tinted - they don't realize it’s an 18 year-old driving.

Once I pulled off, I looked at my rear view mirror, just being curious as the patrol car moved slowly.I had a gut feeling who it might be, but maybe I could be wrong. I took a right turn on the upcoming street, hoping that when I got through these hill top roads that patrol car wouldn’t be at the other side, waiting on the only street that meets up with the same street I’m on. I could picture it already: lights flashing behind me, patrol cars being called in for backup and K-9 units. The whole 10 yards-all for some worthless traffic stop that makes no sense.

I start to fill up with anger cause I know once he knows I’m driving this truck it’s over-- he’s gonna let that dog fuck my shit up and leave hair all over. There’s no winning from having to step out of the truck, preventing them from searching and, like always, finding nothing. I can’t help but be paranoid. I mean, who wouldn’t? Any other place, I wouldn’t have to worry.

But as I see beyond the hill, I see the long stretch of road still ahead of me and the corner street is empty. No patrol car. I get a little relief, thinking, “clear road ahead of me.”

Things in life are too good to be true though, cause once I passed the corner street, there it was parked on the side. Here I am thinking I’m invisible to the world, staying in my own

lane. It just sometimes doesn’t work the way you want it to. As I see the flashing lights coming fast right at me, pulling over, putting the truck in park I see the officer step out. It’s none other than him with that stupid smirk on his face.

I’m no longer invisible.

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Invisible Man: A Memorial to Ralph Ellison,

By Elizabeth Catlett (Riverside Park, New York)

“Until the lion writes his own story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

—African Proverb 83

Agora

By Magdalena Abakanowicz (Grant Park, Chicago)

“Until the lion writes his own story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

—African Proverb

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Shadows of Men:

NOW YOU SEE US 4

Shadows of Men:

NOW YOU SEE US

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