Free Kenneth Foster

All articles on this page are written by Kenneth E. Foster Jr.

Prison/Political

• Slave and southern legacies
• Apartheid lives on..... in America
• Giving the Cause a Makeover

Death Row

• Genocide! I mean that
• What's morality got to do with it?
• The Most Relevant Stance
• The Time is Now
• The Chase

Spiritual

• An Innerview
• Showing I Appreciate it
• Shared Lesson

Variety

• Re-evaluation
• My Epiphany
• Why I will NOT Surrender My RAGE!!
• My Vent
• A Black psalm

The states in the south of amerika have passionately held on to some old traditions. The racism that was pervaded in this kountry has not been eradicated, nor, through the establishment of covert and institutional schemes to carry racism on, does there seem to be plans to eradicate it.

While racism existed in every crevice of this kountry, it seems that the southern states took it to new levels. The first Africans were brought to Jamestown, Virginia as slaves in August 1619 and the southern states embraced and propagated this sadistic process like it was no tomorrow. Perhaps because slavery and the racism that followed to keep it implemented was so centred in the south, southerners entire mentality towards themselves and others were warped beyond ordinary reason. Martin Luther King Jr. talked about how an oppressor’s mind can become just as traumatized as the oppressed. Acts of such monstrosity cannot come from wholesome or sane minds. This “difference” in mentality was exhibited through the civil war when the United Southern States, known as the Confederacy, tried to break away from the rest of the U.S. colonies. That was just in 1865.

December 18, 1865 signified the day the 13th Amendment was ratified and slavery was abolished. However – Texas, a state that tried to proclaim itself a republic, did not acknowledge that law. It took special commissioned troops to travel to Texas, two years later, to enforce this new law. This is why blacks in Texas don’t celebrate their Emancipation Day until June 19th (instead of January 1st, 1863 which in actuality was just a lip service day of Emancipation. The 13th Amendment wouldn’t be TRULY ratified until December 18th, 1865). This was the day the troops enforced this new law in 1867.

Texas has lived on its own legacies of the old south. From 1890 – 1980 there were 5.000 DOCUMENTED lynches in the U.S. Nevertheless, lynchings were still happening in Texas in 1998 (the Jasper incident). This is not just an expression of individual racism, but an expression of amerikan racism that was once embraced as a way of life. Lynchings still go in many other states as well.

Prisons are the most visual legacy of slavery. Infact, in the 13th Amendment proudly proclaims:

“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for a crime whereof the part shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, nor any place subject to their jurisdiction.”

That speaks for itself; along with the tradition of calling prison guards “boss man” (ie-master, overseer) to the bare necessity system. An example of this bare necessity system is the feeding process. Prisons, once known as farms, are just like old slave plantations, and do function just like farms. They make their own supplies (from clothes to hygienic products) and even breed animals. One of their favorite animals is the pig. Inmates are fed high doses of pork (which is often improperly cooked due to the feeding time rushes to feed an entire prison). Why? Because the pig is a low maintenance animal that grows fairly large, living off of basically anything. It’s a cheap product to feed prisoners with. By driving spending down the Prison Industrial Complex keeps its profits high. Feeding slaves (prisoners) pork is an old tradition. Slaves harvested the animals on plantations, but were only given the pig discard-head, feet, guts to live on. Black people, in survival mode, made the best of it and spiced it, pickled it and baked it. Blacks cooked the food so well that even the greedy slave masters would creep out to the old decrepit cabins for a taste. Now the world knows platters calls “Soul Food” (which, in part, is the above foods cooked to perfection).

·         On a more dreadful note, southern states lead this kountry in execution.

·         1/2 of the U.S. death row population (almost 3.600) is in states of the former confederacy

·         5 out of every 6 people executed in the U.S. have been put to death in the south

·         southern states accounted for 84 % of all death sentences imposed on juveniles since 1973. Texas, Florida and Alabama account for half

·         In a kountry where Blacks make up approximately 13 % of the population, Blacks make up 42 % of the death rows

·         Texas itself accounts for over 310 executions since 1976.

WOW! What’s the south trying to tell us? Most likely that they are the true and living pulse of that this kountry is all about. This isn’t just a “Black” issue that we’re facing but a people issue because the above doesn’t represent EVERY amerikan. And for those that don’t know, ameriKa represents the true ameriKKKan mentality that we know. They promote it. It’s a white nationalistic supremist mentality. That is the definition of “white amerika”. Let’s just have an America. Can we just have an America or a just America? That remains to be seen. But, one thing I DO know - as long as we accept and tolerate the above our society, and every part of the world that it touches, will continue to literally… go south!

Back to Article Index

Recently, while reading Nelson Mandela’s autobiography “Long Walk To Freedom,” a very tragic thought came to mind and that was: Apartheid is still alive and kicking right here in the U.S.A. If anyone has ever read about Apartheid in South Africa (the systematic segregation and oppression of Blacks), or simply heard about it, I’m sure there is no denial of how horrific this system was. Infact, it was one that ran a parallel image to the racial disparities Blacks faced here in America. The similarities between these two systems continue even until today.

While African-Americans gained partial “visual victories” against Laws like Jim Crow in the mid-1900’s, Blacks in South Africa would not gain these victories until 1989 when President F. W. deKlerk, due to the persistent struggle of the ANC and the masses of Black South Africans began to dismantle Apartheid. However, it wouldn’t be until 1994 that democratic elections would be instated among Blacks there. “One Man One Vote” became the right demanded by the oppressed.

After studying Mandela’s book I’ve come to see that Apartheid lives on disguised and unseen from the people in this society. While I’m personally familiar with the Texas Department of Corrections (TDC – which will be analysed in this article), and recognize it as one of the most racist prison systems in the U.S., it is not the only prison living on the long legacy of atrocities and oppression. This ideology is shared all through the U.S.A. The semblence of rehabilitation has been abandoned by the American government. Punishment and cruelty is open and blatant. It’s obvious that the mass media constantly broadcast crime, violence and fear of terrorism to manipulate the people in society into believing that such a repressive system is needed. However, this cycle is a purposeful scheme to preserve a classist and racist regime in America and we would be fools to think otherwise. Let me unravel the legacy of Apartheid thriving in America.

Under the Apartheid prison system inmates were classified in 1 of 4 categories: A, B, C, and D (A being the best and D the worse. Political prisoners were automatically placed under level D upon arrival). In TDC there are levels 1, 2 and 3 (1 being the best and 3 the worse). Through punishment these levels act as a behavior control system. On the best level of both systems inmates were able to receive money from their families, buy books and food. They had slightly more freedom to move around and mingle. The chance to buy food was a great benefit considering the Apartheid diet consisted mainly of “mealies” (corn kernels). It’s a benefit for prisoners in the U.S. also as meals, for example like in Texas, are constantly flooded with undercooked pork and horded of beans and potatoes. Level D’s were allowed only 1 visitor and could write and receive only 1 letter every 6 months. Through the U.S. Penal Institutions the repressive rules vary, some allow prisoners to only write between 5 and 10 people. Under the Apartheid system officials were adamant on keeping political prisoners separated for fear that they would incite rebellion in the other prisoners. Many U.S. prisons prevent inmates from writing to each other for similar reasons. In Texas, level 2 and 3 inmates mirror the restrictions of the Apartheid prisoners as level 3’s can only get 1 visit a month and level 2’s only 2 visits a month.

The wide hypocricy of this rule, specifically to those on death row, is upon being sentenced to death a jury of 12 agreed that the prisoner could not be rehabilitated in anyway. Contradiction is weaved in the fabric of the Judicial System in America. While rehabilitation is truly not desired or expected, when faced with punishment by the extraction of privileges, and in many cases by force, inmates do reform their behaviors. Unfortunately, the downside to these methods, which are void of counselling and treatment is, it brews anger in the inmates towards the system and society which supports, thus keeping the cycle of violence going and the doors to prisons revolving.

Visitation was a divide and conquer method. Visits in both systems were held in small cubicles where you are separated from your loved ones. Prisoners had to talk through holes drilled in the glass, or cage wire (some prisons today have installed phones). Robben Island, where Mandela and his comrades were imprisoned, stood several miles away from the shore of Africa. Most prisons are built far into the country to dissuade family and supporters from reaching the prisoners so easily. Texas, being the biggest state in the U.S., is home to nearly home to 130 prisons, many being scattered in the wood and empty terrains. With so many prisons, Texas has even rented out housing to prisoners from other states, thus another example of how the Industrial complex is an Imperialist venture. As Mandela noted, “The remoteness of the prison made the authorities fell they could ignore us with impunity. They believed that if they turned a deaf ear to us we would give up in frustration an t the people on the outside would forget about us.”

Wars were waged on a deeply rooted mental plane. Harassment became a weapon to inflict mental anguish. Prisoner’s mail, under Apartheid, was constantly scrutinized and censored with razors and sometimes flatout denied to them. The same is experienced today, just without the usage of razors. Grievances against decrepit living conditions were never investigated and corrected. Prisoners were considered sub-human and they were to suffer their sentences out. The living quarters of prisoners then were extremely small and overcrowded, ill-equipped, insect ridden, plagued with leaking ceilings, sewage back-up and more. Today you can find these exact same conditions at prison units all across the U.S. Prison administrations have always been guileful when humanitarian organizations and officials would visit the prison. On those days better clothing would be issued, the prison would be cleaned up and even better meals served to carry out the illusion with success. These are common tactics still used by U.S. prisons to deviously pass their inspections. The list goes on and on and as it goes it only paints the picture of the twin systems of atrocities.

While Mandela and fellow ANC members were on Robben island they took a stance against their oppressors. This wasn’t done through violence, but a persistent defiance through not submitting to the sub-human conditions. Advocates of the present unequal system propagate how these prisons aren’t so bad or how ones did the crime and must do the time. Others find solace in making references to how there are prisoners harbouring under far worse conditions in underdeveloped countries and how U.S. prisoners should be thankful. These same people want to be congratulated as citizens of the most advanced country in the world, yet their comments don’t meet that bar; and they wonder how/why this society continues to decay. If people in this country continue to rate it by the worst of other countries this country will never rise to the best it can be. Mandela made a passionate statement about struggling against these conditions when he said: “The campaign to improve conditions in prison was part of the Apartheid struggle. It was, in that sense, all the same: we fought injustice wherever we found it, no matter how large or how small, and we fought injustice to preserve our own humanity.”

I reciprocate those thoughts, but until prisoners, along with the concern and support of society as a whole, decide to take a fervent stance, the well-being of this country will remain in the face of peril.

The similarities of Apartheid does not stop with Prisons, it extends right into the make-up of society. Today, under the Bush administration, the Apartheid regime has come into play full force. Under Apartheid, the South African government could oust Black residents from their homes simply by declaring that area a “White Area.” The legacy of segregation has been long lived through urban ghettos. There was 2 Laws-the 1967 Terrorism Act and the Ninety-Day Detention law which waived the right of habeas corpus and empowered any police officer to detain any person without a warrant on grounds of suspicion of a political crime. We have the same Law today called The Patriot Act! Blacks, and other people of color, often face harassment and abuse under many different laws. Then, banning laws kept Blacks from visiting people or placed them on house arrest. Today, we have the same and youth are targeted in their communities, many times simply for fitting a stereotypical description. In November of 1992, as plans to instil a democratic government were taking place, evidence was unearthed of the Apartheid government being involved in the murders of political activist. Most famous was the slaughter of ANC members by a group called Inkatha. This group was rumoured to be funded by the South African government to carry out these slaughters. Haiti experienced this same fate as the U.S. helped carry out a coup there, but the U.S. government has been an expert on assassination since murdering Black leaders in the 60’s under FBI program COINTELPRO:

There came a time in South Africa’s history when the conditions there could no longer be tolerated and the ANC was not only successful in creating a militant faction, Unkhonto We Sizwe (The Spear of The Nation), but they mobilized the people to overthrow their heinous oppressors. Unfortunately, we Blacks in the U.S. cannot say the same; and the jingle of the shackles still accompany our every step. The ANC realized that, “at a certain point, one can only fight fire with fire, “and that “the oppressed is often left no recourse but to use methods that mirror those of the oppressor.” Today, we see too many of our so-called “freedom/justice fighters” taking orders and allying themselves with our antagonist. They have added to extinguishing the fire of revolution that our true liberation fighters once stated. Many prisoners have suffered the same ailment and thus can’t get the over-seers boot off their throats.

What the ANC had was the willingness to suffer and sacrifice, even if that meant death, but the doses of materialistic morphine that America administers to its citizens have part of the masses subdued while the other half is so bombarded by poverty and violence that the struggle to just stay clothed, fed and protected is the most demanding aspect of their lives. Through the ruling class painting the picture to the middle class Americans that their problems come from those below them they have been successful in deflecting the fear and discotent or middle class Americans, and their possible opposition. “By dividing each, they’ve conquered both,” as Frederick Douglas put it.

Apartheid doesn’t have to exist today. We must remember that Struggle is not an overnight process or victory. We have to be it in the long run with a firm commitment to win. This means years of dedicated educating, organizing and sacrifices. African-Americans have not achieved liberation. We suffer from the same atrocities as we always have, it’s just implemented in a more advanced way. Mandela laid the blueprint out for us to follow and while we’ve taken extraordinary steps within oppressive America, until we mimic the ANC struggle we still will have a long walk before getting to true FREEDOM!

Often times when the phrases „the revolution“ or “the struggle“ are talked about it seems to be said in the form of past tense or in a way that is nostalgic only where the names of ones like Malcolm X, Huey P. Newton and Angela Davis are floated off the edge of tongues and forever lost in a haze of clouds. Does this signify that my people (people of African culture) have accepted that “the revolution” or “the struggle” is over, that perhaps today there are no revolutionaries and strugglers, or maybe there’s nothing to revolt or struggle about? I can’t help but to feel so.

During the 60s and the 70s (when black organized movements were at their peak) slogans like “Power to the people” and “Free all political prisoners” were chanted with militant fervency and meaning, but today these seem to be slogans of a faded civilization and void of seriousness. Have the people received the power? Are all (or at least some) of the political prisoners free? We all know the answer is NO!

What has happened to our peoples’ minds to where we feel we could let our guard down and stop fighting? The black liberation movements were not a marching/rallying movement in the sense of how we see those things today, but they were a movement of actions. They knew that if you talked the talk you had to walk the walk. Extreme sacrifices were made for the progress of a people. When I ask what happened I don’t mean the 2 answers we know:

1)       Our strongest black leaders were assassinated and unjustly incarcerated

2)       The civil rights movement integraded us, knowingly, into a bias system (eventhough the intentions were good- feeling we would eventually excell) and the system’s willingness to pop that pacifier in this screaming, raging mouth.

I mean – when the Equality and Justice still didn’t come as it was supposed to be why didn’t we crank it back up? I’m definitely not saying progress has not been made (infact we’ve been able to make it and continuously make it on the most devious and nefarious land), but just think where we would be today if we had never settled for the few crumb tokens they offered. The truth is we were pacified, subdued and distracted while the system designed a new and improved plan. Nothing has changed!

Today our movement seems to be headed by old groups trying to preserve their past revolutionary teaching and new groups forming with the mix of old inspirations but new cultural influences (Hip –Hop rappers activities being one example). Both are needed and Assata Shakur coined it perfectly when she said:

“To win any struggle for liberation you have to have the way as well as the will, an overall ideology and strategy that stems from a scientific analysis of history and present conditions.”

I set this scenario up to bring testiment to:

1) the revolution is not over, it’s still needed and still living and

2) the political prisoners of today (the revolutions future) need to be liberated but are apparently being waved off as fads or hoax.

I was born in the 70s, raised in the 80s and sentenced to die in the 90s. Now in 2003 I stand as a young Black struggler trying to prove his innocence.

Am I a political prisoner? The old school might say NO, while the new school might say yes. What do I say? You damn right I am!

Political prisoners are defined as persons that were attacked and incarcerated and/or attacked which led to their incarceration simply because of their political views and affiliations. In the 60s and 70s with Black liberation and organization, communism and anarchism flying around these became prime targets for racist capitalist Amerika. While time has brought certain change one thing has not changed and that is people of color are still prime targets with some of the assault weapons being: poverty, ghettos, bombardments of drugs and guns in the community, improper education in the schools, unequal opportunity and an active prison circuit system.

What do I define a political prisoner as today? While the term still retains its original definition let it now encompass (any) who have been falsely and unjustly incarcerated and are being held captive under frivolous sentences with bias politics affirming it. No matter if these brothers and sisters are Activists, Communists, Muslims or Panthers – they are OUR people and worthy of defense and the opportunity to have a just life and treatment. When we face a system that subjugates, oppresses and murders by politics justifying that regimen (in society or jail) we are political prisoners.

Prisons have become a morbid design to punish and conform people to a regimen far worse than society realizes. It has been purposely made a breeding ground for violence, ignorance and death. But what about those that have not given in? What about those of us who have decided to utilize our time and consciously build our mind and soul? Are we being neglected because we have no revolutionary background or did not come to prison for a political cause?  As a people I think we are forgetting to cultivate each other and that we can’t give up on each other. Gwendolyn Brooks said it best: “We are each others bonds, business and magnitude.”

It’s understood that our people are tired of the madness and onslaught that has been inflicted by our own. It does need to cease immediately! However, it will not cease by condemning ourselves to the arms of those that simply wish to eradicate us. Keep in mind that while today your family member may not be here, tomorrow, for no reason at all, they could be. We have to be careful of the system we’re supporting simply because we’re not in the heat of conflict at that moment. Our inability to speak out against such a system is to virtually support it through our inactivity.

Let me enlighten you to this and allow it to stand as a constant reminder of the process that can unfold when you think to yourself if that person going to jail deserves time taken out for them, love, support and a 2nd chance. If Malcolm Little had never gone to prison he would have never became Malcolm X. If George Lester Jackson had never gone to prison he would have never became the most inspiring revolutionary Comrade George.

Within these walls transformation processes begin. They sometimes begin with a brother offering a book - a Bible, Koran or a “Revolutionary Suicide”, “Black Power”, “Isis Paper”. As for myself, I underwent this process - raised by brothers who had taken this same path before me and now I stand with social/political/revolutionary/cultural consciousness in my heart. But does that (along with my limited abilities to produce conscious writings, poetry and out reach to ones in prison and society) count for anything? Would I have to remake Attica for recognition? Not saying that Texas concentration camps don’t deserve such a resistance, or that I am not willing to give it, but is it these types of things only that have to be done to receive revolutionary status?

For those of us brothers struggling within this beast whom have come into this light we have found love and vision for our people we are no longer destroyers, but cultivators – no longer lost, but idea givers. We see only a hand full of political prisoners today being supported in a paramount ways, however progress in the movement doesn’t come by way of individual success only group success.

Today we strive under the same bias, racism and oppression as always just in a covert guise. We resist too! The value of the struggle that took place before (and for) us is now imprinted in our spirits and we now stand never to fall back into those pits of darkness. From within these depths we see the same attacks going on against our people today as back then and we realize the revolution and struggle is far from over. Thus we have become the revolutions/struggles future. We still need to have action taken behind the slogans “Power to the people” and “ free all political prisoners”.

This system recognizes the power we wield as a people so sentences have gotten longer and death sentences more rampant because it doesn’t want these strong, conscious black men and women returning to society to uplift and liberate our people so they breed a prison environment of pure hell to either corrupt or kill them. The system remains rigged with crooked laws and white supremacist judges who will prevent a Huey Newton/Angela Davis/Erica Huggins acquittal at all cost (just ask Mumia, H. Rap and if you could Shaka Sankofa).

If I told my supporters and the people to “take up arms” like Shaka did, they’d probably try to set me an execution date tomorrow. If I radically politiced my ideology as a revolutionary socialist I’d probably become the centre of multiple subjugative attacks. For those of us who have found the ability to mobilize and cultivate - the people should support their rights to receive fair trials, receive humane treatment and for those who can – return to society. We need newly formed radical bases to support us, this revolutionary future, so that we can keep alive the struggle our elders told us to. We can’t keep it alive without your support.

I often think to if I was born in the 50s and raised in the 60s and 70s would I have been a revolutionary then, imprisoned or killed. Well, I’m alive right now and I will never lose faith in my people. As Sojourner Truth said, “ These colored people are going to be a people… do you think God has had them robbed, scourged all the days of their life for nothing?” This toil, loss and rejuvination of revolutionary education must not be for nothing! Until capitalism ceases to oppress us – the revolution is not completed. Untill we have the power to control our destinies – the struggle is not over. And until the oppressed and unjustly convicted are released - All political prisoners are not free. I stand as the body of resistance for US, the war is not won and the revolution and struggle lives daily within me and within the revolutionary future behind these walls.

We strive on… without cease. Let’s seize the time.

The anticipation had grown. There was a sense of tension, despair and anger in the air. The word was – it’d be a fight to the end! As I stood in the death row recreation day room watching the dreaded death watch cell officers began to take some of the inmates in the day room back to their cell. We all knew what was approaching and because the situation was escalating my request to stay in the day room remained unobjected. I stood close to the caged window watching the correctional officers approach the deathwatch cell. I could hear them talking through a broke out window – “Jennings, are you coming out?” Their reaction of walking away answered that. As they left, I peered into the cell trying to focus my sights through the covered cell. The cell had been enclosed by a piece of metal grill. This was installed as a protection for officers preventing a desperate or purposeful act of violence from the prisoner awaiting his trip to Huntsville for execution. As I got my sights I saw the young warrior. He was wrapped from head to toe in cloth-protection for the upcoming war. All jokes aside he looked like an Arabian in the desert or even a ninja. Within a few minutes a team of about 8 officers filed in suited in riot gear. As they lines up next to the death watch cell the ranking officer pulled in front of the cell and asked once again, “Jennings, are you coming out?” With the continued stance of resistance the war began. A long stream of pepper gas was sprayed into the cell. This gas is atrocious and creates extensive burning of the eyes, infringes in on breathing, irritates the skin and induces coughing and gagging and has even caused death.

As I stood watching this my blood began to boil and my heart raced with fury; fury of being helpless and knowing… this could be me! The young warrior began to pop a blanket he had in his hands trying to push the gas back out the cell, but the metal grill only acted as a shield incubating the gas in the cell. As the brother remained resistant to these men attempting to take him to a state sanctioned murder another long stream of this vicious gas was released into the cell. The popping of the blanket continued. As I looked back to the few others that were in the day room with me I could only shake my head and say,” this is messed up!” In the process of looking towards the other persons in the day room something caught my eyes that held my attention in a very awing way. I saw nothing but pure hopelessness in their eyes, it was very disturbing and what was even more disturbing was… they were just sitting there. Internally this enraged me because I thought to myself this is a man on death row, whether we know him personally or not (which I didn’t) we can’t sit here and act like this is nothing. At the exact moment I turned around to face that window and I yelled, “ FIGHT SOULJA! FIGHT THESE PIGS!” The hopelessness I saw in these people’s eyes turned into vigilance in my voice and as I witnessed this man standing alone in his excruciating fight I refused to let him stand alone, I refused to allow him to see a fellow brother on death row, in the same boat as him, sit there as if nothing was happening. By then the gas began to seep through a couple of broken windows and I began to cough from it. I couldn’t help but to say out loud, “damn this stuff is strong.” I could only imagine what the man in the cell was going through. Again, the officers let a spray into the cell and this time Jennings began to gag and choke very loudly. I continued my yelling, “STAND STRONG SOULJA! STAND STRONG!” The ranking officer told his squad, “Get ready!” He then yelled to the picked control officer, “Get ready to roll the door!” Then, at the end of a count down he yelled out, ”Roll it, Roll it,” and like a set of bloodhounds out the gate the riot team stormed the small cell and the fight began. You could hear the tustling and Jennings (quite an in shape young man) was putting up a most powerful fight. My whole body exploded into a combination of cusses and threats to the officers as I was screaming at the top of my lungs, “FIGHT SOULJA! THAT’S YOUR LIFE IN THERE!” I repeated this several times. The ranking officers observing this struggle could no longer ignore me and looked back to take note of who this raging prisoner was.

It was a vicious struggle and it took a few minutes to subdue and cuff Jennings.

My insides were hurt as I watched them bring him out. I can only say that as my pride and anger would not let a tear release, my insides were flooding with them. I couldn’t think of any words worthy to be given to this man I only let out, “ God’s going to bless you soulja. God’s going to bless you.” Out of pure vindictiveness one of the officers looked over to me and gave me the “cut throat” sign running his thumb across his neck. It was a reminder to me of this war, a sign that there is no mercy where we are concerned.

Yes, I did know it was through and that Jennings was at the end, but the war has just begun.

This day I speak of was November 16^th 1999. The man was Desmond “Des” Jennings; a young black male that went down the wrong path that lead him to death row. While I didn’t know Des, many brothers I knew did and respected him and gave him much credit for the self- educated plight he endured. The awaking to his roots as an African man had given him the knowledge and strength to stand in his time of peril.  It gave him the knowledge to not fear death, to love his life and to take his right to live into his own hands by fighting for it. And while this is not a time for me to politic with those who preach an eye for an eye this society is wrong and a full blown hypocrit for killing its citizens when it propagates do not kill.

Desmond Jennings not only made history that day in the struggle from death row as being one of the very few in death rows existence to physically fight to the end, but he made a statement to society and to those of us that claim to be strugglers and conscious men. As we sit here in the midst of death row striving for betterment in life and seek outside help for our cases, how, when and if the time approaches, can we not stand up and fight for our lives? This statement has nothing to do with race, colour or creed, but with the common bond that ties all of you here into the same boat. We’re all condemned to be murdered by the state of Texas. This in itself makes none of us (white/black, innocent/guilty) better than the next. As African men though we look to our ancestors history as freedom fighters and tribal warriors and the call for us to remain as such is embed in our souls, period!

It has become my belief that any man physically capable should fight to the end. I say this for several reasons. For those of us that stress the death penalty is wrong, we must uphold that belief through every ounce of our being; mentally, spiritually and physically. We do so mentally through our writings, spiritually through our self-education and growth and must do so physically. I’ve known many young men that professed to be fervent strugglers walk to their execution. What type of statement does this make? It says hey, this is ok. This is fine to be happening. Some of these persons have accepted last meals! What type of statement does this make? It says – I now eat from my enemies hand. The same system that kept me confined and mentally tortured awaiting murder now wants to give me a feast. How sadistic is that?

We have allowed a sense of acceptance of this inhumane process to go on. We have allowed a visual of acceptance that our lives are not worth anything. Were to blame for this. As I have discussed my stance not only with fellow comrades, but my family as well, I have declared that I will fight to the end. I have also declared that others should do the same. We have to realize that a statement MUST be made to society that this is NOT ok and we do not accept it. If I reach out for help from compassionate and human members of society I feel it’s the ultimate sacrifice for me to show I meant my life was worth something. I will not dignify my captors, oppressors and murderers by eating food from them; a meal that at no other time would they offer me. Their bon voyage banquet will NOT be accepted here. We must get this societies attention.

The day after Desmonds fight a Sgt. that was present spotted me in the day room and called me to him. He told me if I ever did that again I’d find myself in solitary (it would be written as “creating a disturbance”). He said he was not “threating” me, but was just telling me. I told him “I knew that yesterday;” and walked off. His point was  - don’t ever speak up for yourself or another inmate; in fact your actions may ignite others. MY point is – at that point 11/16/99, I decided to fight with my comrades the best way I could and would do the same for myself and the cause. I will follow in the path (if my time comes) of vigilant brothers like Shaka Sankofa, Ponchai “Kamau” Wilkerson and Emmerson “Young Lion” Rudd.

I will not accept the victim’s role. For me to submit myself to a victim’s role is to submit and subdue my rage and my rage is the fuel I use in the fight for justice and equality.  I will not submit my rage for a consent of murder on me.

Following this writing piece you will find 2 unique poems that capture my intense feelings towards this matter. One is written in an eccentric fashion full of historical and conscious symbolism and the other is a bit simpler. Two tips of the same flame. In the simpler one (which this writing is named after) I state:

We’ve got to rewrite history

Showing the world we went to peace unpeacefully.

Would be a contradiction

If life wasn’t so precious

While people say it’s no use to fight, their going to strap you in and kill you regardless, I say the are wrong that it’s “no use.” This fight has nothing to do with fearing death or not being at peace, infact the 4 men I’ve named we’re spiritually and mentally intune, but it’s the point it makes. We must challenge the thinking process of the public; which the majority of them think the death penalty is right.

These are actions that show them a role is being played by them just as much as the officers who beat and cuff us, to the one who presses the lethal injection button. As they approve it they approve what comes from it; no different than approving a war where bombs get dropped and masses of innocent civilians are killed. We have to rewrite this twisted history. We cannot be contradictions of ourselves by not showing life is precious. Years ago in places like Europe executions were carried out publicly like social gatherings. Whose to say that the building up of that sick and vile regimen is not what has led them to now be the leading advocates to abolish the death penalty? Perhaps this is now why this sick method is carried out behind closed doors. If this process is so just and the government is so proud of it, why hide it? I say because the horrors of it will enrage people and connect to that beautiful compassion WE ALL have in us towards one another; that which they don’t want you to surge forth for it would extinguish their dictatorship over our every action, thought and well being. Point being, we here must surface these horrors once again so the people will know that monster still lives in our society, but now has a painted face.

While we may gain no physical reward, remember this, the only way to be free is to struggle and dedicate to a cause and fight without fear and through our ability to justify our cause we have broken every chain of oppression placed upon us. The message will be heard, the message MUST be heard, so how could we deny - The Time is NOW!

I caught myself off guard when I asked myself – „why fight to get off death row when death is inevitable? “ That was a difficult question simply for the thought process it inacted.

Death - such a controversial subject for the human. In our world today we’ve become so attached to it and the material pleasures it brings that the mere thought of death causes ones to feel as if their being robbed of something. Should this be a natural or unnatural feeling?

Death row has become a boxing match with death, we’re face to face, literally in an enclosed ring (ie-cell), battling our way with this “adversary.” But should this process be more like shadow boxing where this “other half” should infact be conditioning us for the journey up ahead ?

I’ve analyzed my own self in the face of this and have come to the realization that the answer to this enigma of facing death will have a different outcome for every individual, but perhaps we can venture into my own realm of facing the valley and shadows of death and emerge with answers of peace, understanding and assurance.

We can look to 3 things to enlighten us about death:

1)     ancient civilizations

2)     religion

3)     science

Two ancient civilizations come to mind, both being firmly rooted on the earth before religion or technology as we know it today and both viewed death in similar ways: The inhabitants of Egypt and the Native tribes people of the West (what’s known as North and South America). Both of these cultures embraced death in a very arcane way. First of all, death was only viewed as a transition and because these people knew the essence of life they embraced it wholeheartedly and even prepared lavish tombs and had beautiful ceremonies for the departure. Did these people possess a knowledge that we have failed to grasp hold to? When we specifically view these 2 cultures we find that the similarities of their esoteric behaviors didn’t cease with death rituals, but they both were masters of medicine, mapped the stars in science and with structures (namely pyramids) and their structures were so captivating and flawless that man today still cannot phantom their creation at the time they were built. So apparently there was an arcane knowledge of unbelievable measure that we’ve truly became very separated from.

Most religions have confirmed to us that we must live our lives today in an righteous way so that we will find peace and life in the hereafter. While many religions may vary on what that after life is, man is settled strongly on the fact that there is something.

Before religions became firmly established with their modern day names and beliefs we had many prophets walking this earth that exemplified the same characteristics.  We find in these prophets the most sublime of spiritual advancement. From Abraham to Moses, to Jesus, to Muhammad we find that they weren’t attached to the world. They saw themselves as servants, they interacted with the sick and poor and put their lives in the line for God. All taught to seek knowledge over wealth and that this world will perish. This was a divine knowledge and man has lost touch with this supreme understanding.

Lastly, science in its simplest terms teaches us that our bodies are made up of undetectable  particles. It is only one particle in the universe that can be found in All forms of matter (whether solid, liquid or gas) and that is the Atom (of course Atoms consist of sub –atomic particles: protons, electrons, and neutrons. At the nuclei of the Atom resides the protons and neutrons and outside of the nuclei revolving around them are the electrons). This tells us that we have energy particles in us that are non-destructible. If I was to tell you right now – close your eyes and think of a flower, the ocean or the color green – you could. But how? Your eyes are closed. It’s undeniable that we have a force deep within us. A brain is only tissue, thus it must be composed of greater elements that allows this phenomenal brain power. Could we reason with this by saying the creator has composed this “inner–self” (perhaps in other words – spirit) with an intricate design of Atoms that creates our mind and intelligence? It seems logical and being that the Atom is in all things and indestructible that would basically make it infinite, and if the Atom is infinite and it makes up our true self wouldn’t that make our composition eternal? It seems scientifically so and this should cause us to think greatly about our lives and how we feed this energy within us.

Viewing the analysis, even in brief, of these 3 things should have our minds open to something very deep. On death row it has not been a choice to if we could avoid this lesson. Here, it stares us face to face and challenges us to question it, seek to understand it and should I say …befriend it.

So the question remains, “why fight death if its inevitable!?!” I’ve come to voice that it’s easy for a man to die yet very hard to live. No matter how ones situation on death row is argued the conclusion is still the same: Life is precious. Why? Because the creator has taken a special time for all his creation and could anything He made be without purpose?! We find that practically all living organisms serves a purpose, even if only part of the food chain, and as man has been given reign over the earth would not his purpose be magnified 100 times more!?!

Death Row has been the rose among the thorns – even among the harshness beauty had bloomed. Through this struggle we’ve had to break ourselves down: the ego, immaturity, anger, ignorance and lack of spiritual nourishment. We’ve had to seek knowing our selves, then to love it so that we could allow others to love us. The love others have given us has been the water to our growth. It has encompassed us like a pool of warmth submerging us from head to toe. Through this breakdown process we have seen the value of man and realize that we still have worth and purpose.

Many here are discouraged by the affliction we face, but this is where we fail to see that it is absolutely necessary for life to unfold. Sometimes pain and hard times are not meant to be removed. You can’t second-guess God. Rather then praying for it (pain, hard times, etc.) to go away its often wiser to pray that you learn as much from it as you possibly can. For those of us here who have attained this understanding I feel safe in saying that it is not death that frustrates us but the enlightenment that we have achieved in knowing what role we should have been playing in society. Philosophers, teachers, counsellors and much more have been molded here and the reality that these lives may never be lived does act as a disappointment. It’s not in rejecting death but in rejecting this forced death. When ones mind floats to those here that have committed acts against humanity we must stand on the concept that forced death multiplied by forced death can only manifest destruction. We can’t lose grasp of the ability for man to change into a better being. When we think of how man has taken reign as judge, jury and God let us ask ourselves is man pure enough to take lives so easily and consciously. I feel like when a man can create life, and I don’t mean by intercourse or sampling DNA, I mean making DNA itself, making Atoms and Universes, maybe then he can have the power to take lives. All societies need discipline, rules and fair punishments for wrong, but murder in any form can’t be the solution to get peace or growth in life.

So the answer comes to: We must let life continue to feed life. Life should be allowed to take its natural course so that adverse effects do not spread from multiplied evil acts. If a man can learn to live and nourish life it would be abominable to cease that. So it’s not about being afraid of facing death, but embracing every bit of life.

As I sit here on death row for a crime I did not commit I ask why? Why me? Why should I fight? Then I think of all the strugglers and martyrs that carried on even in the face of unimaginable things. They knew they were serving a purpose and to lay down their lives as quitters would insult their entire being. It wasn’t until I read a very simple yet extraordinary saying by Minister Louis Farrakhan that truly gave me peace in my heart towards my difficult journey. It assured me of all my affords to live and strive having purpose.

He said:

“What we are experiencing now is the chronic disorder of the breaking down of a world that will give birth to the order of a new world. So this chaos is absolutely and vitally necessary to create the motion toward order. Out of death comes life, out of darkness came light, out of nothingness came everything so out of what seems to be only chaos comes order.”

This assured me (even in these universal terms) that all we’re doing is vital for what will come. I’m blessed that I have been able to reach people and share with them and all my friendships have bloomed like a great garden. We cannot fear death and also we cannot run and hide from life. Both are companions, both will call us and both will demand every ounce of our being. Lets learn to embrace in peace and understanding what is natural for us. This is why I fight and this is why I will continue to fight to have every breath I’m supposed to have because I know as long as I am alive I have a purpose to serve.

Back to Article Index

Can facing death teach us to live stronger? From birth there is only one thing we’re promised and guaranteed in life and that’s death. Personally, I don’t recognize this process as dying, rather merely a transition, but this is not the time to express my after-life beliefs though I’ve come to grips with death on a far more personal basis than most human beings. Death row is a purgatory of sorts. Purgatory is defined as “supposed place or state of expiation of sins after death before entering heaven; place or state of temporary suffering or expiation”. Definitely, death row seems to be a twin image of this “middle ground”.

The most grueling experience I’ve encountered on death row was not coming face to face with other prisoners or even aggressive guards, but the process of making friends. Being next to men preparing to die is probably the most profound spiritual experience and struggle known to man, because here, you have no choice but for face this reality and tackle it (thus becoming liberated) or be tackled (and face a life of misery and pain). So, while living your own personal and piercing journey you inevitably experience the journey of others; the most profound ones being those of your friends whom you’ve come to care for and ultimately love like family.

Imagine for a moment, if you will, having to line up your father, brother, uncle, cousin and even your son for a murder that you know is coming and there’s nothing you can do about it. How vicious and tormenting would that pain be? Well, this is the pain we feel daily!

I’ve experienced this pain numerous times at different degrees. My first challenging experience was when a friend of mine (James “Jamil” Means) was scheduled to die in 1998 (at the time I had only been on death row a year and a half). While being on death row for over 20 years Jamil had become a student of the Buddhist lifestyle and had attained a knowledge and inner peace that most people only read about and/or dream about. Through our friendship he planted seeds of enlightenment about the depth of the humans spirit in me. As we looked eye to eye that day I knew a great being was leaving us (physically) and I cried for that loss like a man cries for his own blood brother.

In 2000 the execution date of my friend Coruthers “Big Al” Alexander followed. I looked upon Big Al like an elder and in the parody of his execution taking a deep toll on my life it also provided me with one of the greatest gifts ever and that was the lesson of manifesting things in ones life. In Big Al’s last days he left me with the valuable gift of through Though, Prayer and Action we ultimately Manifest. These have been steps I have followed in my life.

While these were two of my close friends there have been many men here that affected my life. Seeing ones like the the reformed and spiritually grounded Napoleon Beasley created a great sense of admiration in me yet despair in regards to this system as it because obvious they are ruthless and bloodthirsty. The causes of men like Desmond Jennings, Ponchai Wilkerson, Shaka Sankofa and Emerson Rudd fighting fervently until the end instilled in me a deep feeling of love, respect and appreciation for my God given right to life.

One by one, each of the souls that have faced slaughter in this State has touched my life in paramount ways. From each of the persons here I have incarnated different pieces of truth, balance, strength, knowledge and love. So, while I still remain in the middle of this journey steadily watching the pendulum of death sway from excruciating to enlightening I find myself learning how to survive. When the day comes that I must embrace the beyond and unknown I can look back on the pieces of wisdom I’ve gathered from these souls and fully accept that the act of dying is truly one of the natural acts of living. Because of this, and the way these men have faced their destiny, I walk forward with no fear, venturing trough each day wiser that the last, realizing that whatever I manifest tomorrow will only come to be from how strong I live my today.

Many people brush off the terms prisoners use to describe their situation, conditions or the powers that be. These terms are often viewed as colourful or over exaggerated. However, could it be that we’re in denial about what we’re facing, going through and the methods being used against us?

 I think for any person that lives in this country they can admit that politics is the predominate art in the land; and politics are built on the skill of being persuasive. Therefore, we’re surrounded by people whose goals are to convince, if not fully control, our minds. Point being, you’re going to find some very colourful and exaggerated speaking. It’s up to us to separate the wheat from the chaff and the only way that will be done is when we care enough to study for ourselves to find out what’s going on and not depend on others to think, and do, for us. And it should already be understood that when another thinks for you they will usually think on behalf of their own well-being before yours.

 We have an environment where there is a large population of poor and I think it goes without saying that the poor is neglected. And when you have a neglected people you have a people who can be easily controlled and contained. This is done by keeping them away from what can empower them – be it resources in the form of food, money, opportunity or education. So, what we have is a section of people on one hand who don’t know what’s going on, thus can’t act, and then on the other hand you have some that know a little bit about what’s going on, but can’t do anything about it because they are disempowered… or at least feel that way.

 “The more corrupt the state, the more numerous the laws” (so said Tacitus, Roman senator and historian A.D. c.56-115). Does this sound fitting for what we see going on in this country today? This should not dismay us and cause us to throw our hands in the air in defeat. In fact, this should cause us to do the opposite – get aware of what is taking place so that we can counter-attack it. The first is becoming aware, which leads to the topic of this discussion.

 I’m here to tell you that Capital Punishment is a form of genocide. Some people may say “Whoa! That’s a strong word to use,” but I use it with no hesitation. When people hear the word genocide they may say to themselves that only applies to places like Rwanda. While it’s true that we haven’t seen genocide on those levels it’s not true that we haven’t seen genocide at all. As with all things there is a starting point. America has started and if we don’t put a stop to it conditions like Rwanda may not be so unimaginable for this country.

 And that’s part of the problem – people allow themselves to become detached from things that affect other parts of the world thinking it has no bearing on their lives. That’s a critical mistake, especially for people who live in America which is a country that makes it their business to meddle in the affairs of other countries. We’re so detached that we are unaware of what’s going on right in front of our faces and most definitively international affairs. Americans have become a very absorbed people and due to such they are absorbing into their own destruction.

 I’m going to highlight the Article 2 of the International Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (1948). This was established by the Special Tribunal on Violations of Human Rights of Political Prisoners and Prisoners of War in the United States Prisons and Jails which was convened by 88 sponsoring and endorsing organizations from all parts of the United States. The members of the Special Tribunal assumed jurisdiction pursuant to accepted principles of international law approved and adopted by the world community under the United Nations Charter, in accordance with the precedents of Nuremburg and Tokyo Tribunals and following procedures approved by the Economic and Social Council of the United Nations (Resolution 1503 [XL VIII]).

 Here, Genocide was defined in the following way:

Genocide: any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole of in part, a national, ethical, racial or religious groups as such:

*Killing members of the group;
*Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
*Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
*Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the groups;
*Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

Now, if genocide doesn’t describe the conditions and calculated state-sanctioned murders going on on death row then I don’t know what does.

 In fact, points 1-4 describe a lot of ailments people are facing everyday in the ghettos, prisons and communities where drugs and alcohol flood the people’s daily lives. What American’s problems is they want to compare this country’s atrocities to other country’s atrocities, and when they do that, they often come back with “Well, it ain’t so bad.” We have to demand that people drop that mentality. If America is going to flaunt itself as this amazingly advanced and civilized country then we are going to have to hold them to that. We can’t allow one to say – “Well look at how it is in Africa.” Africa has never had the advantage of being an Imperialistic country that sucks the resources out of other countries. We have to hold America to the standards it has set for itself and as of now America has failed miserably.

 What we see going on in America is systematic genocide. It is subtle in its form: booming prison systems made to seem like rehabilitation centers when they are just like concentration camps; tobacco products made to look cool for kids when it’s only killing them; lack of Health Care provided while curable diseases are ravishing the communities; police murders which are given passes under the law; purposeful poverty; and the most blunt being Capital Punishment.

 Capital Punishment is an “in your face, what are you going to do about it” type of thing. It can be defeated just like all of the above. And in truth, Capital cases spawn from conditions like mentioned above.

 What we have are politicians in our face screaming words like “Terrorist,” “Fundamentalist,” etc. They use these words to instil fear, to push us down and to capture the way we think about others. We have to do the same with our words. We must not feel inconvenienced to call things/people as they are. We must not allow ourselves to be frightened into a state of immobility. We’ve surrendered our rage and given it to Governmental monstrosity. We can only empower ourselves by verbalizing the truth. This will not only allow us to learn how to fight the enemy, but it will bring healing to the constant pain and frustrations that we feel.

 I’m here to expose the death penalty for what it is. I’m here to call these politicians exactly what they are by what they live out. I won’t allow them to dilute their conscience into believing that they aren’t the problems that are creating the problems. I will continue to call them what they are and I will continue to scream that CAPITAL PUNISHMENT IS GENOCIDE! AND I MEAN THAT!

I’m buried alive under steel. That’s what it feels like sometimes, literally, not spiritually – an actual pile of steel stacked upon my face and body. Isn’t that something?

Very seldom do I let people inside my deepest thoughts. I actually don’t think most people could handle them – not because they’re vile or anything of the sort. In fact, quite the opposite. They are very intense – soaked into the essence of life. I might think as low as a tiny critter scampering under a rainy canopy in an Amazon forest or as high as the particles inside a Black Hole. My mind is constantly conscious of its surroundings and the existence of all things. I cannot ignore any aspect of it.

And being in this tiny cell does that to me. That may be a surprise to many as they’d probably think this cell would vaporize my senses – my imagination. Quite the contrary. My senses have actually heightened – whereas another’s might have dulled. I have no explanation for this. It’s a strange phenomenon. I dare not cal it natural, strange or unnatural for I do not know what it is. I just know that it is.

I’ve read about every imaginable struggle in the world (and ended up soaking pieces of them into my own being): from Rwanda; dictatorship under Stalin; Haiti; Atlantic Slave trade; Jewish Holocaust; Palestinian oppression. I’ve experienced my own: was born in the ghetto; separated from my parents at a young age; lost my mother to AIDS; got a father lost in drugs; been jumped on and stabbed; sprayed with crowd control pepper gas. Nonetheless, I remain surging forth in life. I have refused to recede any further. I’m mentally sound… I do believe.

A journey took place within myself. A moment of introspection where I tried to analyze my own thoughts. I was on the verge of almost 5 months straight of being contained in a cell for 24 hours a day. In this period of time I may had been out of this tomb of a cell 25-30 times either for a 2-hour visit (twice a month) or a 1-hour recreation period (one day per week). The only other exits from the cell were brief walks to and from the shower (daily), which is only 15 or so feet away, and last for 20-30 minutes. So, to say the least, I’ve been contained pretty tight.

In this time I’ve been housed in several cells and had numerous of neighbors. I’ve lived next to nonchalant persons to outrageous ones; Aryan Brotherhood members to ones who mutilate themselves; radicals to misfits. In some I found dialogue. In others none (even for some who did actually talk). To my surprise, I found more stimulating conversation in the one that mutilates himself than many of the others. This made me realize the diverse nature of one’s psyches. It also made me realize that what’s insane in my world is complete sanity to the next. Just like the people who eat monkeys or spiders, or the people that put discs in their lips, or ones that have 10 wives. How do we gauge what sanity is, especially for customs that have existed long before we have?

I tried to gauge my own sanity, or lack thereof. I began to describe to a friend how I feel at different intervals while in this tiny space. This tomb. This little cave. I felt the need to speak it to life extensively. I feel a very deep relation to places called Third World countries. It could come from when I used to walk barefooted as a youngster because I didn’t like shoes, or when I had to eat mayonnaise sandwiches to not be hungry. Maybe it’s because in a past life I was a slave, a rebel or a peasant. All I know is that I inhale the spirit of places like Cuba, Haiti, Liberia, Venezuela. I can taste the salt water, corn tortillas, campfire smoke, gun powder on my tongue. It’s not depressing to me. It’s quite exhilarating. There’s an urgency – not a complacency in it. There’s a reason to live, not just exist. More and more I become detached from materialistic points of view. I’ve had less and more. I wonder… am I learning the secret to less is more?

I’ve been thrown in an empty cell naked before. I didn’t moan or weep about it. I actually thought of how there are hundreds of thousands of scantily clad wise men/gurus wandering around India (home of enchanting wisdom and spiritual attainment). I’ve been fed loaves of food unfit for human consumption and in that time I thought to myself – do I even know horror?

I’m restricted to such small living quarters. I’m currently in a management cell completely sealed off from all human contact and almost visibility. I’ve seen men desperately seek ways to get from behind these cells. They were breaking. They were smothered. Couldn’t breathe. I could smell their tears and hear their spirit mourning; all hid under grim faces and tattoos that sold fantasies and told lies.

I walk back to my bunk, sit cross-legged and wonder what the Prophet Muhammad did in the cave of Hira circa 609AD. What took place with him was divine. It dawned upon me that so many warriors found enlightenment while posted in caves. Ethiopian nomads (that became known as Rastafarians), Coptic and Buddhist monks; even eagles gain their nobility from lonesome cliffs or branches where only the wind can touch them.

I’ve been through numerous lockdowns and shakedowns – time when our food is fed to us in a paper sacks. I’ve opened up to a cheese sandwich and bologna sandwich. I get lost looking into the brown sack pondering… I bet the socialist rations in Cuba are much better. What are the indigenous people of Peru eating? I wasn’t distraught of the sight of a bag of raisins. I said to myself – I wonder what I could trade this for in Bolivia? A bowl of rice maybe? I can appreciate a Ramen noodle soup. I see the divinity in it. Could I survive like the FARC from Colombia who stay buried in the green trees and jungle terrain fighting for liberation? I stand with DRIVE buried in steel fighting for what I’m supposed to have… Humanity.

Could I be as determined as the poor Venezuelan who once knew tyranny and then stood with the Bolivarian Revolution? Or am I content with a pint of ice cream every week waiting for a needle to weaken my pulse to a thud?

What’s a 5-man extraction team got on a machete at the hands of 5 men polluted with hate from imperialism? How could I complain? I’m eating peanut butter sandwiches in a cage with running water after all. A slave camp nonetheless. I recognize that I’ve got to do something about it.

What prisoners go through is like a rock being smashed against the flesh. But, as Ho Chi Minh said: “Calamity has hardened me and turned my mind to steel.” I make it work for me. When flint hits steel what happens? It sharpens. That’s me.

It’s isolation vs. solitude. Either way, I pull back into myself like a Dogon, Aztec or Celtic generating aura, chakras, third eye, spirit, soul. I spill it all out usually in what’s called poetry. I think I’ve moved beyond that term. I have no peace with a name that describes what I do – outside of maybe visions, manifestos and instructions – as my words are a collective of things.

My words bounce off these walls like bass from stereo speakers – even when only softly spoken – making my adrenaline run. Other sounds vibrate through me that reveal secrets. I come to know the essence of men in the songs they sing, roles they play, the lies they tell which only pulls them closer to the truths they hide.

And I’m listening – wide eyed like the spotted owl perched in the tree. And WHO is the question cause most of us don’t know ourselves.

Eating dry bran flakes with no milk I understand that I’m more than I was and can be better than I am. Cassava, rice and freedom sound a lot better than juicy cancerous burgers and totalitarianism.

But, maybe it’s just me. I’ve come to feel that I’m a very strange individual. Nevertheless I find myself buried in this cave, hungry – not for food, rather beauty at the tips of struggle – excited by it. And amongst all this death, pain, regret, hopelessness, I still find that I’m smiling… undefeated, discovering so much about life all from this little cave of steel that was actually made to suppress my humanity.

Picture that… because I can’t stop!

Kenneth

The death row walk is undoubtly one of extreme complexities. The struggles with life, torture, despair, hope, death etc. are ones that can be put in no simple words. Each of us as unique beings will deal with these things in different ways and because of our unique essences and beliefs there’s just no way that another man can instruct the other in exactly how to walk their path. However, it is my hopes that as ones who face a common fate, and go through common things, we can listen to each others experiences, especially when they may lead to the greater good.

I came to the question – do we humanize the death penalty? Have we sat by so thoroughly inactive that we inadvertently promoted this process? Over 300 men have walked to their murders – the majority having elaborate death feast (that which probably won’t even digest) before their executions. I asked myself, what message does this send to society? The conclusion I came to was; I’m okay with this.

This statement creates controversy as many feel their manhood is being questioned. Well, it is not. What is being questioned is our wide range vision towards this capital punishment process. It is my wholehearted opinion that no death row inmate should walk to their execution. I passionately express that to those inmates who condemn the death penalty (the reality is that all death row inmates do not – be that to your surprise), and get out there and launch campaigns to save their lives. If we can do that in the outside world, we can do that on the inside. I believe it’s our duty to make this statement – to burn this into the psyches of our captors, other inmates, the system and the media. As one says “the death penalty is wrong”, we should stand on that until the end.

I know this is a sensitive time (facing a date) and one may not be willing to sacrifice like Brother Ford. Due to his protest the administration took his property, showers, recreation, and suspended his visits. They didn’t take his spirit or dignity though, and for those of us standing with him, we are going through the same restrictions, yet we are not broken either. Tony had prepared for all this saying his goodbyes a month ahead of time and dedicated his last month to the struggle. What courage and dedication! Many won’t do this, but that’s not a total lost. When those people come to walk you to that death chamber, just refuse to participate. What are they going to do? Write you a case? You don’t have to physically fight. If media comes to see you, tell them what you will do. Let the world know that “I’m not participating in my own murder!” What do all of you think society would feel seeing hundreds of men and women doing this? I think it would be very provoking. It’s almost 3,600 death row inmates nationwide, but how often does this happen?

Some will try to manipulate you and say “a real man would walk head high”. This is nothing to be proud of. It’s an abomination. Some will say “what’s the use, you’re going to die anyway”. The purpose is to expose this to the world. Since 1976, there has been over 1,000 executions. There could have been hundreds of statements saying “I’m not ok with this”, and that has nothing to do with being at peace or remorseful – that is if you’re guilty or wrong for your crime. One protest does not contradict the other.

In my eyes, I see this as the final statement against this death penalty. If you’re a Christian and believe in non-violence, lay it down and pray out loud about the blood on these guards’ hands. If you’re a Buddhist, speak about their Karma. If you’re a Muslim, remember your code of righteous Jihad. All of the Prophets were warriors in their own way.

Our lives have been changed by this process. Our families crushed. We need to help end this process so that the cycle of pain cease. This is one way we can play a role. This is one way we can allow the barbaric nature of the system to be seen. I appeal to your conscience and principles. As politicians seek to further oppress us we have to step it up a notch to end this death penalty. I do believe that the above movement is one long overdue. I hope that you’ll deeply consider it.

In Spirit, Strength and Struggle,

Kenneth Haramia Foster #999232

I refuse to do many things.  When I was young I refused on a different way: "for the good that I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do."  Not that I should, yet I suffer all the same.  And it was only Rage that gave me some understanding - allowed me to endure.  Rage and I have become friends.  Rage started to whisper in my ear then became a whirlwind in my heart.  I’m like a contained hurricane crashing into unbreakable walls, but Rage said that "drops on the boulder will eventually wear it to a pebble."

My attitude makes me a target- this stubbornness which gives an air to myself like I don’t have on prison whites.  They see me with different eyes. I walk like there’s a mission in my boots.  And they don’t like that.  They want to shackle my …NO!  They want to take a chain and spiral it around my whole body.  They want me immobile, because my movements create insurgencies.  My eyebrows are subversive simply because they RISE!  My flaring nostrils are like spit on their face.  They swear - "muthafucker", we’re going to break you!"  And I have a grin that fires back like a raggedy 9mm ruger that ricochets when it shoots.

I’m ether, and Rage is my friend.  Hate has knocked on my door many times, like the day my child, with big brown sweet potato eyes, said: "Do you think they’ll let me come back there and give you a hug?" I had to imprison my emotions.  I threatened them not to pour.  And Hate said "HELLO" in the most beautiful harmony and wanted to know if he could come in and play music in my world.  I then remembered how my grandfather walks with a very straight back - elegant steps - after 25 years of prison with my father, 10 years of death row with me, plus knowing bigotry in his time that we’ll never know; and I remembered Jesus turning tables in the temple and I said to myself that these men weren’t Haters- they were Ragers which were Lovers though not being content.  And I knew that I would be the same when I told my child -"No, it doesn’t work that way"- and I saw that she did not slump or pout, but gave that familiar frown, I knew that determination was set in our bones and a kiss from behind the glass was a covenant sealed with a meaning: that there would be accountability.

And that was Rage- the sweetest determination to not bow, but knowing when to be humble- like to those that fly thousands of miles, make the calls, do the emails, talk the shit when needed!  I’m not here to knock the candle holders, the morality seekers and the ones who pray.  I do know that James said- "Faith without works is DEAD!" - and in Texas it seems that all people got Faith in is that people ARE going to die.  That’s why my prayers are likes tornadoes, ‘cause Paul said "Pray without cease."  So, I move like a Samurai warrior - the most harmonized fighting technician - which is needed against the most uncivilized killing machine.

I have to clarify this "war" we’re under - it’s really spiritual, because in a real was there’s casualties on both sides … but we’re the only ones dying.  Thus why this is GENOCIDE!

Thus why I’m dedicated to leave an affirmation amongst those who only statement was - "I don’t care anymore."  But I do!  And the new slogan is:  "Be nice to Amerika or they’ll bring Democracy to you."  Amerika wants to market Guantanamo Bay’s.  They’ll be accessible like Home Depots in every city.  They think I’m asking for pity, but Rage says- "Demand P.E.A.C.E!" (Positive Education Always Corrects Error). Until then I’ll give ‘em petitions - and I don’t mean paper; I mean a persistent nagging pain in their side until they seek balm.  And if they put me on that cross be sure to check my palms, ‘cause it’s all the same.

You see, I got fuel in my veins.  This is beyond adrenaline - it’s more like nitroglycerin or a Molotov cocktail saying "HERE I AM!" to the helmets of fascists trying to smother out all my hopes.  See, I used to be angry until I realized anger is momentary madness, which is unacceptable in an environment bred to exist in perpetual pandemonium.  Plus, he who angers you, conquers you.  I got rid of that and got me some uncut kerosene.  I got this finely weaved Patriot Act noose wrapped around my throat and this fuel got me smart enough to keep a razor tucked under my tongue so I can cut myself down, because no one is around to help me.  I need binoculars to find them.  They’re so far away. 

They’ve blocked my screams like an unwanted email; said I was a virus fucking everything up.  Got everything in a frenzy.  I said better now then when that potassium chloride got heart valves convulsing. 

I’m not going to surrender this Rage which makes me talk to you this way.  If you wanted polite you should have been a librarian.  Then you got all the quiet you want.  You wouldn’t have to hear Lamont Reese scream - "I DID NOT WALK TO THIS BECAUSE THIS IS STRAIGHT UP MURDER!" you can avoid the gurgles and gasps - the laughs of victim’s rights groups. I’m just trying to grasp you the same way they did Justin Fuller when he refused to walk to his execution and he balled up on the floor and they picked him up and THREW him into the van.  Had Tony Ford banging on his window to show solidarity, so they sent him to solitary for "Disturbance."  They said - "Don’t speak up for NOBODY!  Not even your damned self."  What’s left, but to embrace being a rebel?

We’re already outcasted.  Ones now assist in bucking executions.  Met some gas!  They lock us down on execution dates now. We refusing to surrender what’s left now – Rage!

Pastor John prayed with me; said - "Lord, we don’t need people catching a ride, we need people to DRIVE!"  So, I’m at the wheel like Evel Knievel trying to pull a stunt.  Trying to defy some odds.  If I can’t get Freedom, I’ll free-dumb.  If I can’t get Liberation, I’ll Liberate-a-nation by being a reflection, not an example. Examples are people who don’t protest their execution. Reflections are revolutionaries whom are murdered for rebelling against their own repression.

I’m married to Rage too - she be a Javlin flying through the wind hitting my enemies in the throat.  I’m a weed that keeps breaking the concrete.  I’m insidious.  I’m serious!  My Rage makes me seditious, and I’ll continue to be.  I’ll continue to be in a Rage, because the day I surrender it I’ll become a victim and surely my Humanity will cease to be. 

They want us to believe people aren’t redeemable and must be thrown out like trash.  Rage says - "NO!" They want us to believe that 40-year sentences means rehabilitation.  Rage says - "Stop being dumb asses!"  They want us to be fearful and disempowered.  Rage says - "Wake Up! Stand Up!"  I can’t tell you this enough.

A person with outward Rage dares to die; A person with inward Rage dares to live.  People - I know both; and I’ll tell you this - when repression and eradication step on your throat, Rage will become the best friend you’ve ever known.  Tap into it or you will most definitely be tapped out.

Aluta Continua

Haramia KiNassor

I was asked what my current state of mind/being is like as I’m now in position to receive a date of execution (which we know is booming ahead). The following is what I was able to express - and while I was unable to give this description in "normal" terms (but what is actually "normal" about this situation?) this was the best I could do.

Sometimes what we go through is hard to explain; other times unexplainable; and then at times we explain things that only the universe can understand. 

Imagine if you will.......

The Serengeti. The rawest scene of what is wild and primal. The sun is slowly setting. It exudes a dark blood red glow that heats everything within its reach. Everything perspires; even the trees (so it seems). The surroundings are filled by all sorts of creatures: the silent, the noise makers, the hunters, the prey. Here, survival is the mode of everyday. This is a place where life and death dance across the plains. They are interchangeable joys and pains; smiles and tears; answers and mysteries.

I am amongst a pride of lions. I am in the practice of watching those that always watch me. I'm the feared yet admired. I'm majestic yet cursed. I'm a beast yet beautiful. I am nevertheless a manifestation of what is divine, and I find myself hungry for survival in this circle of life and death.

Without notice and like a flash across the horizon I have caught a glimpse of my object of desire. My eyes lock like radar..... I’m lust and need; intensity and determination; all the while knowing that I too am in someone’s sight. But my eyes cannot be moved from that which may alleviate me from my snares.

Silence descends. In concentration I breathe through my skin only and think through my pupils. I'm motionless, but very aware. My pride is one accord; communicating only through their senses: seeing the stakes, smelling the excitement, hearing the heartbeats of intensity, feeling the heat; tasting the opportunity.

Hunger has set deep within me. In instinct I have gone from crouch to stretch. My claws stimulated have extended and my body is tense. Each muscle is a calculated contraction being protruded in a way to win my cause. There's no sound – only wind and heat rays bouncing from body to body. The environment understands what is at hand.

But, death stirs so delicately and without awareness and the trees hold secrets from me as the 30.06 rifle takes scope of me. I recognize there have been no promises and that in the end I am on my own.

I slide lightly over the ground - the rocks and thorns. There has been no real nourishment for sometime. The days have been cruel and the nights have been merciless. Life has almost become something to dread. Death could be a sweet invitation.

And so I take to movement – flowing synchronized with golden blades of grass that swirl me into a frame of still thunder. I'm possessed with the outcome of this chase as it is now win or lose – there will be no draw.

Recognizing that nothing in life must be easy my target stirs. Eludes me. The object of my desire dances in front of my face teasing me with the cruelest tantalization. The ache in me is like the low hum of a drum and I am now in passionate pursuit of my target.

And from that mysterious silence once again, behind the leaves of the tree, the 200 pounds of iron flesh inches towards its target taking in the human smell with its infra-red forked tongue. Like the death that watches me, death has no biases and even watches the hunter of hunters.

Moving low and in stealth I have found my 2^{nd gear, I know everything from this point counts: every step, every turn, every breath. The event now exposed to the environment turns the silence into whispers, whispers into chatter and the chatter spreads to pandemonium.}

Having nothing else to lose but pain I fire from my cover like an arrow from the bow; and like the most gentle gesture the trigger is squeezed; and from the branch the 200 pounds of iron flesh strikes forth like lightning... 

The dust rises.... and death descends. Only god knows what shall be when the dust settles.

I'm tired of being stepped on! I'm tired of being stepped on! So we decided to do some stepping back - buried in the abyss, we broke through the cracks. DRIVE - Death Row Inner-communalist Vanguard Engagement - birthed from sons of crack, neglect and abandonment. We became the standard of resistance. Ones weren't listening to their heart beats - too lost in Amani" – But they were too busy trying to molest our souls! Strip us! They said test 'em with fire called quick heat; like hell, welcome to it: P-O-L-U-N-S-K-Y - Why are so many dying? Cause it's a lust for death like Iraq, Vietnam. They dropped a bomb on our rec-yard and our voices only got louder. The BOOM! of cannon powder coating our faces. I wouldn't trade places with my worse enemy to know this pain. We had to DRIVE the pain away. Do it for the forgotten victims: Our mamas, daddies, siblings that the State said "Oh well" to! The USA way. Remembered MLK Day with Civil Disobedience. Defiance Campaign. Sometimes you sit to stand. They said "Get up and walk back to this genocide!" I said – "You NOT listening, I'm NOT STANDING FOR THIS NO MORE!" These conditions are deplorable! I deployed the spirit of Ghandi/Rosa and became mobile. I was told what we're doing is noble. I said don't remember me – just my actions. The satisfaction is in progress – not praise. We've paved the way for change. Change is gonna come. Come down to the trenches and live. Live like you never knew. Know-the-ledge- and don't fall in. But if you do we locked like chains in solidarity. Good Morning Amerikkka! You thought it was over, but we are alive like smart bombs - and just as explosive. DRIVE Movement said HELLO to the sleepers. My soul is bleeding. Are you reading the writing on the wall? I DIDN'T DO IT! I DIDN'T DO IT – make this kountry so sick! I'm in the vent plotting. I'm venting my plot. We invented a plot called combative resistance. I think they missed that genius. They upset that when one stops breathing a new revolution is planted to bloom new seasons; new reasons to not accept the norm. We're weathering the storm in Texas. We've not yet reached the apex! They've found new gases that feel like lava. Oppression in smoke to swallow. We had to shout it out our lungs. All we needed was a hug from humanity. They wanted insanity like 1984 and 9-11. We just wanted something better than pollution. Our pleas wouldn't fall to knees, so they said we were monsters. I said - "Tomorrow you'll judge me, just like today for my past and if I don't have one you will make it up." So we said "Head up and feet down". Drown the sound of sobs. We are moving like 18 wheelers coast to coast. Row to Row. We just can't participate NO MORE! We want Fascism repelled. I wish I could bottle up the resistant opposition and sell it for a dime a dozen. And when I die let Mother Earth kiss me and say – "You did good." Carry me now, cause there won’t be no grave to pack me to! Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust – I'll be sprinkled in the radical wind. We came to win! We didn't come to fail, for if we did we would have never put the key in. We turning the ignition! We off the break! We on the pedal!arguments of their own condemnation. We needed a new movement of mind over matter - ones not content with being examples of contradiction. The agreement became revolutionary suicide and tears became libations and shattered dreams fuel. The only tool we had was rage and the torn out page of life we clung to. My brother sung the words to – "We shall not be moved" and just like the tree we were grass-rooted. They tried to ravish us with reverse psychology like – "What about the victims?" We said - "may God help them! Peace, Salaam,

We on a DRIVE!!!

if i could only touch the grass

i’d morph into roots that dig 1,000 miles deep and

i’d never come up for air.

i’d seek to be the Earth’s core and

i could never be torn away from the soul of humanity.

i’m lost in things unseen.

i believe that i am what i think,

so i’m kissing my newborn child,

building a bridge,

feeding the poor –

making my Life Supreme.

i’m trying to reincarnate back into my 1st capsule.

i’m at the edge of God’s tongue

and He spoke me into a Galaxy.

i spun and spawned,

birthed novas with my pen.

i was a sun spot in your eye;

a comet like speaker.

i whizzed into the darkness

that was womb,

that was love.

children of the world need to know that

their past is not Nintendo

and our elders need to realize

these will be our leaders.

i just want to be a mystic

who lives on magic potions.

i survive off of the sustenance of spirits,

and music

and art.

i want to be a nomad in the desert

praying 5 times a day to

streams coz they naturally flow

and don’t stop even when barriers are in the way.

if people understood me

we’d greet each other with a Holy Kiss.

i’m the simplest atom.

i’m Jerusalem with wise men.

like the rainbow i bend to seal my covenant.

candles and incantations swirl my soul.

there’s Africa’s soil at the bottom of my feet.

my Mother used to save dirt and eat pinches of it

i never understood until Acient Kemet spoke to me of Neter

and i prostrate to

child births and dreadlocks.

i’m high on Gnostic scrolls.

i feel like a Coptic priest when walking amongst these dead-

they forgot how to live/

to see through their chakras

and transcend space.

i sit tall like majestic giraffe on the plains

and low like scarab.

i’d like to live in a land where

pineapple and rice is a National dish

and gazing in your lover’s eyes is a social custom

sipping tea and humming hymns is a past time,

the sky is my telephone,

eagles my emails,

religion is poetry.

we hold hands around sad faces

until they warm like sun beams.

moon light says be sweet to each other.

stars talk to us like neighbours.

how do you love a drum?

beat by beat.

and instruments be our fingers

in hair/on faces

making sounds ooze from lips like peaches and plums.

prison is when you give up and

hell is what you feel like while there.

heaven is enlightenment from the bliss of ignorance

let the only wars be fought over

which proverb you love best.

and disease should only be blank sheets of paper

that we cure with

vowels, verbs and verses.

let’s be vessels for manifestation.

let’s suckle on the milk of sages/

find secrets in

stain glass windows or rock candy.

remember sugar water raised Queens and

mayonnaise sandwiches, Kings.

we simple folk like acorns.

the fall is the best thing to happen.

the oak lives within.

the oak lives within.

the crash makes us sprout.

carry me on the wind to Syria.

wrap me in the silk of prophets.

let me burn at the stake with witches and pagans

cause some people have to be odd

so others can get even.

i spoke a riddle from heaven’s revelations

out came: NYDESHA-AL-HAMDU-L’ILLAH.

i’ll be the eye of Horus

for generations to come.

i’m stuck on solomon's oath.

i’m lost only in me

where i find all the answers.

this is only a prayer

that never closes

and begins

where it ends

only to start at deathlessness

which is birthlessness

so i be

forever

amen