I'm sitting outside the library while I write this. Its a beatiful day. I'm thinking about how much you all (my readers) mean to me.
"With great power comes great responsibility."
I don't know who said it, but it means I have a responsibility to all of you. I don't know everything, but I know enough to share. So, I share information about how we can all better our lives and the lives of others.
If anyone wants to write me directly, here is my adress:
1099 F Beltline Rd
Collinsville, IL 62234
Don't be alarmed if I'm a little slow writing back. I'll try not to be, but I'm very busy these days.
Since some of my friends want to know more about my experiences in prison, and/or are activists for causes related to incarceration, I'm going to shed some light on my experience via song. Maybe I'll record it someday and figure out how to put it on a link so you all can here me perform it.
Well, here goes.
Perfectly Real by Supaman Tion Terrell
I'm doing all that I can to keep from looking inside.
The tears I cry Burn even after they dry.
on lock, watchig the clock, as the time flies by.
You never miss the water util the well runs dry.
Flashbacks won't let me laugh. I'm running from my past.
Drug habbits, and gun blasts. Now my baby-momma's mad.
I'm mad too. Can only be mad at me.
Its sad to see my life's been a tragedy.
Bad habits hold me back like gravity.
Still trying to grasp at what a man should be.
I looked up to the gangstas. It put me in the pen.
Preachers are pranksters. Pimping grown men.
My only comfort was a blunt and a bottle's foamin.
Thats all I ever wanted and the chic I was bonin.
I was zoned in. Loved when I heard her moanin.
I'm locked up.I hope it aint me that I'm cloanin.
A bastard in a cold world. Lost and alone.
A rolling stone. Give anything to find a home.
Life's fast ride. Blink your eyes and he's gone.
Walk the wild side. La vita loca, Homes.
I manifest the intellect trying to build an empire.
Entreprenuer Mic assassin for hire.
Right now, I know how Mike Jones felt.
'Cause "Back Then" I was dead broke myself.
Red Onion State Prison in 2009.
Feeling like the BeeGees, just trying to stay alive.
Masturbating while looking into a C/O's eyes.
Rushing to get it off while she's letting me ride.
Can't afford grease nor lotion. Lubricated with butter.
Its not funny. Thats a part of life in that gutter.
I've discovered life's raw like sex with no rubber.
Do you understand now why we must take care of one another?