A personal experience |
They were the unwanted children who grew up to be unwanted adults. They were the outcasts; the embryos that were not allowed to be aborted. The motherless children of a society with no compassion or love for anyone they considered less than themselves. Still claiming their God taught love as they hated anything that was different than they were. They were jailed in rooms with 3 tier beds and 200 women in spaces that were built to house 50. Some slept on hard plastic boats along the filthy walls with numbers taped to a space above them, 187, 188, 189 and referred to as such when paged by the D.O.s of Maricopa County Estrella Jail, located on the south side of Phoenix. Sheriff Joe Arapio ran his jails like a slave plantation with guards that were trained in the art of dehumanization, sleep and food deprivation, food poisoning, and breaking of the human spirit. He and his gestapo cronies operated above the law. But their specialty was cruelty and hopelessness. His regime really got a kick out of punishing their prisoners for crimes they had not been convicted of or even seen a judge about, just accused. They were breeding entire generations of despair, sadness and uneducated madness like a worm in the bottom of a Meskale Tequila bottle. The candy man was the laundry officer; panties, socks and bras on Monday & Wednesday, sheets and towels on Tuesday, stripes and blankets on Friday. They sang the panty-man song whenever he came around. He could not pin point just one of them so they got away with it. They exchanged what they had with something laundered, sometimes the clothes fit, most times they didn’t. Only if they heard him come, anywhere between 5 am and 7 am did the prisoners get the exchange. Otherwise they hand washed what they had and hopefully had a chance to hang it to dry before the D.O. on duty made them take it down. (It was not very often that their clothes got a chance to dry). Recreation, by most prison standards was to be 1 hour a day. The prisoners were lucky to see the sun or outside once a week. Then they risked missing their medication being delivered by the not too friendly nursing staff or one of the two meals they were served a day. Either way there was a due to pay for recreation. Church services were offered for most mono Judea/Christian God denominations as it was reinforcement of those with the power and their reasons for being in power. It was amazing how many found God while imprisoned just to have the luxury of getting out of their pod for an hour once a week. To Ask Why The hen house keckle With Hyde & Jeckle. All disguised in stripes Of black and white. In pink socks and ooze With squeaky rubber shoes. Incased in shackles Around bruised ankles. All colors and creed, All need to see ... The blue sky. To ask why- To ask why- To ask why- It’s the hen house keckle We laugh - we chuckle. We be zebras of a different stripe With or without the hype. In madness and despair Of purgatory - all beware. Of the hen house keckle ... To ask why- To ask why- To ask why- Mrs. Hawkins She’s a real prize, With a voice like a freight train Sales two for one – that’s no lie. Then there’s Elizebeth That knows No words but, Fuck, fucking and fuck. Wish that light was a truck To shut them both up. Doing the hen house keckle ... To ask why- To ask why- To ask why- Then there’s the rolled cig queen, Her name being big Christine. She sleeps all day, Then sings hymns -say hey. Hustles all night Now that’s a fright. To the hen house keckle ... To ask why- To ask why- To ask why- The drama queen with a girl, Margaret always talking in swirl, Or whining Really says nothing. The hatred - The abuse – The conflict lights the fuse. The officers sit and grin As they toss your pictures in The trash then expect you to smile; Through dry lips And say “thank you” We’re just a clod of dirt pile, For you to step upon Humming our song ... Singing the hen house keckle ... To ask why- To ask why- To ask why- In the hen house they keckle ... |