Convict - a sentenced criminal
politic - judicious, expedient; prudent, sagacious

Sonntag, 31. Oktober 2010

Dear Friends

Dear Friends,

In two years, half of my life will be have been lived in the shadows of guardtowers and barbed-wire. It was in one moment, I came to be here; where fifteen years later at the age of thrirty-two, I`ve bcame well acquinted with remorse and cried a fair share of regrets. Despite the regret and remorse residing in my heart, neither hve made it possible to retrace steps; to that one moment at seventeen when my life was swallowed whole by a mistake.

Techincally in two years, it will have been a life-sentence for me. Nevertheless this isn`t the sort of life sentence the court intended on December 06, 1996. I reach out to the each of you with the highest hope you will help me conquer the goal in my heart: a second chance.
Friend or not, I want to do my part...and getting something for nothing will never be a part of me.

So individually, I encourage you to support me through a donation of your choosing for my artwork, or craftwork. Your donation will go towards my need to hire a lawyer who specializes in post-conviction remedies. Through your sacrifice you will be opening door of possibility... a possiblility at a second chance, my only wish.

Sincerely Yours,

I can be reahed through e-mail:

I encourage you to open a line of communication with me. All ideas are good.

I can also be reached through my good friend Angela, who without her, even this door would be closed.

Poem, Portrait, Drawings, Dreamcatchers, Crosses, Bracelets,
Choose of offer an ideal -- I`ll deliver on my end.

Mittwoch, 27. Oktober 2010

observations on visits...

....When I was out in population, on the weekend it`s a popular thing to stand in the dayroom windows and watch as the visitor`s come down the sidewalk to the visitor`s area. Let me tell you, they come down that sidewalk in all manners. From young to old, limping and laughing, they come. From cartwheels to wheelchairs, they come. All for a person whom some can`t even touch and after a short time through glass or across a table, they say goodbye. It`s only after the visit is over, that they notice how much the other has changed; how their son or daughter looks so much bigger then the pictures taken, (capturing them growing up).. one picture at a time. One visit at a time, this is how some convicts witness their seeds progress. Some gone so long, that mama`s and daddy`s come, with their canes, their walkers, their cartwheel turning wheelchairs :-), a gray hair here, or there, where it wasn`t a decade ago.
Time barking in its silent voice. But they come, the ones whom didn`t rob that man, or rap that woman, the ones whom hand never touched one drop of a blood, but just as effected, as the ones whom find forgiving so difficult.
Yeah... you ought to see them kids coming down that sidewalk, coming to see the other half of their family, ...their daddy. Or even moms and dads coming to see a son, they won`t see again byond the gate, that traps them for that short moment of bonding.
But they come, till they can`t anymore...

taken from the letter from Oct. 4, 2010

What is love...

What is love,

An illusive ideal,
teasing, taunting
powering the distance,
insisting; wanting
Haunting us,
in our hours alone
departing with no word,
deserted in the morn,..
over cliffs,
crawl - waterfalls,
the "if" whta love is,
drifts and falls
As echoes only the memory can hear,
oh, how they survive from there to here.

What is love?
Love is what cures
yesterday`s sorrows,
giving us anchor,
in reflections we borrow
A quest through learning
scepting change,
reluctant but resilient,
is our purpose and pain..

What is love?
A reunion with purpose
you come to understand,
grateful of opportunity
when life is taken by the hand.
...It`s beyond the division,
of self from self,
love is the resch,
high up on the shelf,

What is love?
Love is that leap year joy,
we keep trying to time it -
But, love is the one asking
you, to define it.
What is love

October 20, 2010

Sonntag, 24. Oktober 2010

Mother, ...again

Mother, ... again

Eaach year the brightness of the sun
caresses your symbolism,
as hypnotism over waves,
from the beginning you gave embrace,
replacing my sinning with love
how can I doubt the shove and pull
of your heart beating on my skin?
Bruised and blinded by the surface,
missing passionate pirpose
seeking the best through the rain
nurturing me, with hopes I flame
curing my flooded confusion
nourishing my soul`s contusions
with every endeavor,
you defended our alliance,
wrote defiantly in concrete:
The story of motherly love,
echoing here, smooth - as far back -
as I dare remember, you shivered
and delivered me to your breast.
I learned your heart beat my skin,
then called it mother, I love you, again.

The time has come

The time has come

Stuck between letting go and looking back
through blurred tears wanting more than memories back
we act like the euology can`t be heard
ignoring what`s known postponing the words
like denying its voice would make it treu
if only the void I feel was filled with you
or what if this tiny "if" existed...
I doubt it would do just what we wished it
so why must we go on pretending
role playing our past in these condemned buildings
unpausing the past captured on fillm
dancing with shadows that once was him
trapped in a realm, with no way back
both hearts burnt on a bridge collapsed
subjecting ourselves to what is unjust
questioning, this circumstance of us
the he - the she, tied to a wish
that you and me can somehow resist
the revolutions of the sun
or reality beyond
the dreams and hopes succumb
missing the half that made you one
areminder of what now only is...

The time has come to sever our ties
The time has come to deliver our byes
The time has come to cease the cries
The time has come, to live our lives