“Orange Crush is in the building!”
Is the call I hear at dawn’s break.
“Awake, awake, tactical is here to take!”
A thousand boots stomping, hundreds of
As they invade the cell house and raid.
Like the beaches of Normandy,
They are relentless as they continue their surge.
Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t know?
This is a convict’s reality.
Correctional officers conduct their own
rendition of “The Purge”.
Dehumanization, marginalization, ostracization
by this institution, is this poem’s
Torture, mockery, dejection, rejection
are their forms of degradation.
Steel handcuffs become my form of the cross,
And my cell gets pillaged just to have my
I really do hate shakedowns.
They’re the worst.
Officers from the racist south,
use this date to mete out,
the punishment they
think we deserve.
My photos are dispersed, piss’d on
It’s as if I was not fearfully and
wonderfully created in His image.
The Living Word is torn and ripped,
I guess salvation for the guilty
does not exist.
Oh, how I pray deep from the heart
That a special place is furnished for
the scumbags we call “The Twist”.
The trillion dollar question is:
When will this nation’s thirst for
retribution finally end?
There’s chants and cheers while
they egg each other on.
Tears of anger begin to flow as I
check to see what’s gone
underneath the pile of what resembles
to be my stuff,
I find my flat-screen at the bottom;
broken and crushed.
How can I explain this tragedy
to my poor family?
Over the years, numbers dwindle,
as they steadily fade.
All while I’m forced to navigate my
way out of this Prison-Industrial-
I’m just another number becoming
a burden financially.
Do you actually believe that inmates
have it made?
Try to breathe while the oppressor’s
boot is press’d down on your
And the media’s ratings boost when
you’re on live as America’s prime-time
“Shakedown! Shakedown! Shakedown!”
There’s not one correctional facility that
this does not take place.
This is just another way for elitists
to dispose of society’s garbage and