Push and Pull
Poetry by residents of the Cyndi Taylor Krier Juvenile Correctional Treatment Center in San Antonio, Texas
Push and Pull
“Their souls begin to lock like push and pull.”
Bryan S.
Poetry by residents of the Cyndi Taylor Krier Juvenile Correctional Treatment Center in San Antonio in partnership with Gemini Ink, readers and writers today and tomorrow Š2009 Gemini Ink Writer-in-Residence Gregg Barrios Layout, Design & Editing Angelia Potter and Daniel Torres, Gemini Ink interns Anisa Onofre, Director, Writers in Communities Special Thanks to Fadela Castro, Photographer Jessica Maupin, Enrichment Program Coordinator, Krier Center Rosemary Catacalos, Executive | Artistic Director, Gemini Ink Gemini Ink’s work at the Cyndi Taylor Krier Juvenile Correctional Treatment Center and this publication were made possible by The Cyndi Taylor Krier Juvenile Correctional Treatment Center Student work has been edited as lightly as possible in order to honor the original voices
Foreword YO SOY – I AM: The New Voices of Brave Young Poets By Gregg Barrios, Writer-in-Residence
There is a wise dicho in Spanish: Cada cabeza es un mundo. Every individual is unique in this world.
When Writers in Communities at Gemini Ink asked me to facilitate and teach a poetry writing class last fall, I was honored to be part of this innovative program that sends professional writers into diverse community settings to work with teens to develop their own unique voice through oral traditions, reading, and creative writing. The workshop was open to incarcerated youth at the Cyndi Taylor Krier Juvenile Correctional Treatment Center. The twelve students selected came from Mexican American and African American backgrounds.
“Who are you?” The Caterpillar asks Alice. “I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.” Yo Soy/I Am was the title of the four-month workshop. My goal was to use their identity as a springboard to finding their voice: What’s your name? What does an ID say about you and your background? Is your given name the one you prefer? Would you change it? Why? The first evening I used Shirley Ellis’ classic pop song, “The Name Game” since it is interactive by encouraging the listener to add their name to the lyrics of a song: “I betcha I can make a rhyme out of anybody’s name.” The game proved daunting at first – but they soon realized its rhyme and reason had roots in the more familiar world of rap and hip-hop. Later that evening they wrote prose on their definition of success. To get them to read aloud what they wrote, I played the instrumental drum and beat track from hip-hop artist Drake’s hit “Successful.” 9
By validating their music with poetry, their definition of poetry was changing and offering new possibilities, and their prose statement converted itself into vibrant poetry.
But this was a tough young group. They tested me. They wanted to hear me read my work, know my life experiences. They interviewed me as I had them. And while having a supervisor in the class might have been a safety net, by the third session we had forgotten anyone else was in the room.
Some of our greatest literature has been written in prison. Cervantes wrote Don Quixote, the first modern novel in jail. Henry David Thoreau spent a night in jail as a protest. Other writers in recent times have written poetry, memoirs, and essays while incarcerated - from George Jackson and Angela Davis in the 1960s to raulrsalinas and Jimmy Santiago Baca in the 1970s.
Each generation picks its literary heroes. And certainly the late Tupac Shakur would be high on that list; however, it wasn’t until they read his book of poetry The Rose That Grew From Concrete that they saw the sensitive and tender side of the gangster rapper. They also found two unlikely poetic heroes: Maya Angelou and Bob Dylan. Angelou’s “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” brought a shock of recognition and kinship, while her description of how she changed her name from Marguerite Johnson to Maya brought smiles to their faces. Bob Dylan singing “Subterranean Homesick Blues” in DA Pennebaker’s Don’t Look Back took special significance once we discussed its meaning. They watched mesmerized as “the old hippie” beat poet Alan Ginsberg passes the torch to a new generation in the film’s opening. Later, the students took one of their poems and while a classmate read it aloud, the poet aped Dylan by flipping flashcards with words that often were words within words: “REVOLUTION” on closer inspection one card contained the italicized word LOVE backwards. And yes, they preferred to learn the mechanics of sonnets instead of “kid stuff” haikus. They wrote the 14-line poems in the style of Shakespeare and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Each measured the iambic and labeled the rhyme scheme. One evening was spent in 10
deep discussion on why a line like “and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death” was so dark and beautiful and inspirational. Each class would begin with my reading from a poet’s work, later they would bring poems from books I had loaned them. When they heard poems by local poets Cynthia Harper and José Montalvo and learned both were from San Antonio and deceased, they felt an immediate bond, asking how old they were and how they died. Each session ended with the students reading their own work. I was amazed by the energy that emanated from them and the pride with which they tested new work hoping for the approval and constructive suggestions to make the work complete. Their fiveminutes on stage gave them a new sense of empowerment.
Were we successful? The answer lies in this chapbook – the creative harvest from the workshop. In it, you will hear the voice of young poets, your sons and daughters, your brothers and sisters, your nieces and nephews, tus amigos y vecinos.
Under the most difficult of situations, they have risen to the task of creating a poem out of their imagination, out of their view of the world. These young artists embody the lessons and struggles we all recognize – first love, growing up, crime, hardship, hunger for justice, the pursuit of happiness, and hope and freedom in the future. For some, their poetry and prose will grow and mature. For others, this may be the first and only time. I hope not. But more important is the fact that they now know there is an option to channel their passions and experiences in a nonviolent and creative way to which the greater society can take heed and listen. ***
I would be remiss without acknowledging the persons who make this all possible, and who worked unceasingly to provide this opportunity for the young poets: Gemini Ink director Rosemary Catacalos; Anisa Onofre, WIC director; and Jessica Maupin, counselor and guardian angel at JCTC. Mil gracias. And thanks to the San Antonio Current for permission to reprint this introduction that first appeared in their pages. 11
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Table of Contents A Dedication to You Taylor S. My Life Rudy F. Mother Courage Taylor S. Brown Threat to Society Alejandro V. Untitled Erick M. Varrio Product Alejandro V. 12-05-91 Erick M. I’ll Never Forget Erick M. August 30, 2009 Trevon M. Hatred in My Heart Michael P. Pursuit Trevon M. Being Black Trevon M. My State of Mind Bryan S. Untitled Bryan S. Human Mother Beasts Bryan S. The Coffin Sebastian F. Summer Night - August 24, 2009 Sebastian F. Myself Caleb P. Falling Savannah F. Victorious, Prosperous, Fortunate: Is That What You Call it? Savannah F. Victims Savannah F. I Despise Taylor S. Sorry for Your Loss Rudy F. Raza or Nada Michael P. To My Dark Side Michael P. Life is in the Eye of the Beholder Savannah F.
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A DEDICATION TO YOU Taylor S.
Danielle is your everything She is what every girl should be Smart, elegant, and humorous It’s never going to be the same Please don’t take all the blame If you need a shoulder to cry on I’ll wipe the tears ‘til they’re gone You inspired me to stay alive You kept me from taking my life My mom couldn’t help at the time I thank you for saving my life I offer this poem for all you did For loving through thick and thin Helping me keep the will to live For Aunt Puffy
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MY LIFE Rudy F.
It’s a warm summer night, can’t go to sleep Gun shots, sirens, and can’t go to sleep I struggle to make peace, but still we’re at war Fighting the endless battle, don’t know what it’s for Dad ain’t home, Mamma ain’t there Go to the fridge, ain’t nothing there Go to the streets, I’ll find something there It’s “tough luck,” my dad used to say Hustling on a cold rainy day I pop a pill to ease my mind, keeping away the thought of doing time Mom died in ’99, brother doing 59
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MOTHER COURAGE Taylor S.
It takes sacrifice, fear for your life And love to do what you did Something I would not Have been able to do You were fading in front of me Why didn’t you let go? Dying each night and day Brought me to tears Damned nurses and doctors heedless They knew you were very ill You were quivering deathlike To the point of no return Sacrificing your life for my sister Asia Just to see her grow up and smile You are phenomenally courageous It could have taken you to the deathbed It takes sacrifice, fear for your life And love to do what you did Something I would not Have been able to do Mom, I love you.
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BROWN THREAT 2 SOCIETY Alejandro V.
A menace to society and a vago from the hood And porque my skin is brown People assume I’m up to no good They don’t feel safe when I’m around They look down on me cuando hablo Espanglish A bloodthirsty descendant of the Aztecs Porque I don’t speak the “proper” language I speak what’s known as Tex-Mex Because I come from the Deep South And have aggressive attitude towards people But in my life, there’s been nothing to smile about It’s full of sin, struggles, and evil All they show is resentment and fear But if you look closely into my eyes You’ll see the pain from all those troubled years I disguise it with black shades in daylight And at night wash it away with a case of beers But still at times in the still of the night Alone in the dark I fight away tears Pero no me entiendes, you can’t understand When the odds are against you, how can you prosper? When during childhood you become a man And after that derange into a monster This is for all my misunderstood brothers Who won’t settle for minimum wages Who are a danger to themselves and others For all the carnales confined up in cages
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UNTITLED Erick M.
Dreams deserted burnt the surface Yet find that silence Is picture perfect Sinner’s torment A mind divine as this I try with rhyme defining life A criminal unraveling The twine of mind confined in time Living with insanity Damnation by humanity Cold conviction of my spirit Society denying my plea Bold nonfiction though, why hear it? Is how they think and so they chose I guess to simply not then Rid the streets of the poet To whom the doors are locked Many times I’ve been incarcerated Awoke in straight jacket hospitals But kept determination and inspiration Despite of all these obstacles Do you know what it’s like To pray until you fall asleep? Handcuffs tearing your flesh And shackles on your feet? I’m a son; I’m a brother I’m a lover; and future father too But to the law and the judges I’m nothing - but a fucking monster!
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VARRIO PRODUCT Alejandro V.
A Mexican trying to live Survive through tribulation Trying to become someone Make it in this White nation They won’t hire him porque No tiene sus papers So self employed in the streets Makes feria with the pager Seems his lifestyle’s a sin He’s become a stereotype Of the typical brown skin He’s been set up for failure From the day that his was born Grew up in the varrio Living off raspas and corn His dad’s an alcoholic Mama’s always so depressed He knows he’s a screw up But remains to do his best Always does what he can do Keeps steady never shaken Takes off running for his life Every time he smells the bacon You can see him from LA All the way to San Anto ‘Cause he is just another Product of the varrio
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12-05-91 Erick M.
One love, one God, one life to live Your touch, your bod, our minds in bliss Is it the long black hair or those just right hips? Maybe the way you stare or the way you kiss? From your head to your feet, your beautiful creamy color It’s you I’ll never deceive, I’ll never dream of another Your brown eyes are jewels, your smile like diamonds Your soul has no trace of cruel; it’s only you I confide in I cannot wait for the moment that I can hold in my arms My beautiful loving angel to whom I’ll never do harm It’s you that changed my life, and saved me from the streets With you and only you, baby girl, I feel complete. It never dies, only will rise, look in my eyes, Baby I love you You are the skies, my prize, my wife, Baby, my one true To the love of my life, Alison M.
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I’LL NEVER FORGET Erick M.
Only Lord knows how hard it is raising two kids in the city On top of that, being a single mother, never showing self-pity You show me unconditional love, even though I’m undeserving Through the things you say and do, I trust I’ll stay forever learning You told me all that matters is what’s inside and that I tried You taught me never give up and in my roots to take pride Never have you led me wrong, only spoke what’s real to open my eyes So I can see the dangers in these streets and how to tell the truth from lies With all my sins piled so high, I’m unworthy to be called your son But you find it in your heart to overlook the things I’ve done I remember all the times for us to have you went without Even so I never heard one complaint from out your mouth I’m not the best at accepting or expressing affection This is to say, “I love you” for the times I failed to mention For my loving mother, Lupita M.
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AUGUST 30, 2009 Trevon M.
People always say to a certain child You got so much potential You just don’t know Don’t waste it on the life you’re living They tell me advice all the time Like you’re heading down the wrong road You better turn around before it’s too late But to me there aren’t any u-turns Why make a u-turn to turn around When I’ve already chosen the path I’m going? Is there really any point to turning around Just because I might die a little earlier than usual? I see no point in running away from what I chose This flesh I’m in isn’t really me It’s just my protection for the time being But either way, one day I gotta go So why not make it earlier than later Because the way I’m going I must be going for reason Because if it wasn’t for a reason Like I ask myself why I am Heading down this road?
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HATRED IN MY HEART Michael P.
There’s hatred in my heart, I had it from the very start Started one day when I was 5 playing When someone told me right up front That the family I had was not mine Guess what went through my mind? I became enraged King Kong in a cage I had to learn to take it in my stride I had hatred in my heart, I knew from the very start I took it day by day I didn’t know why But I know someone would have to pay No way to cheer me on like mom I know I would have to be strong It made me cry praying not to go insane I tried to learn to take it in my stride I had hatred in my heart, I knew from the very start I would have to embark on a voyage I would have to keep my pain in storage Till I was ready to tell my story To all the kids adopted like me I share your painful journey I learned to take life in my stride
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PURSUIT Trevon M.
Pursuit is just the act of pursuing Pursuing is just the verb of pursue Pursue is just the noun of capture And capture is what I do My pursuit is becoming a rapper Pursuit on gaining knowledge Pursuit on also gaining intellect Pursuit on getting my prey My prey is knowledge and paper I put those two together to express Through writing utensils and paper Pursue the thing I do best Pursue my dream through all the pain All the confusion and the sorrow I strive to succeed I strive to be better I persist on pursuing while I pursue
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BEING BLACK Trevon M.
Dark skinned, dark brown eyes Slender in frame, my disguise Small in person but big in heart Been a target since the very start Done been through hard times No bologna or white bread Seeing Mom prostitute In the middle of her bed Black is beauty in this world There is no other like it Chocolate caramel colored skin I wish everybody liked it Beauty is in the skin The beast is what you see Beauty is in the eye of the beholder Why can’t you see me? Why do I think black is beautiful Even in the event of its demise? Seeing everyone mourning ‘Cause a black man died? Being Black ain’t easy There are definitely struggles Papers filled with charges A Juvenile record never covers We came from the bottom And shot straight to the top Shout out to all my brothers Who do it with their hearts Black is beauty, you see
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Skin melting chocolate candy African American It’s what I am You look into these dark brown eyes And say you see a devilish man That’s what whites told my ancestors Each time they raised a hand “I’ll whip the devil out of you” Is what master used to say But I’m a free man now Refuse to cock it and spray So look into this young man’s eyes Trying hard to succeed To make it in this devilish world Where being black ain’t easy
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MY STATE OF MIND Bryan S.
Louisiana my state and my state of mind Infected with post traumatic stress disorder Since I was a little younger than five So many memories I wish I could delete Like seeing my family’s enemies roll up the street They opened fire some of my people hit the floor My cousins took cover, returned fire Automatic gunshots till they all expire I was four I didn’t know what was going on I just hid till it was all over Got a little older, I was like 10 Walking up the streets of Tidwell Watching babies play with broken trikes Mamas inside hitting the crack pipe Just babies in shitty diapers Daddy’s got money, sitting in the Viper Pushing the same thing their mamas are on But I couldn’t talk, because I’m pushing it too But not for no diamonds or gold But for my mama, who stays up all night crying Cuz her baby is running the streets Heard some police sirens And her heart skipped a beat Because she knows it’s me in the back seat Or even worse, me on some back street Shot up and dead I tried to convince her, I’m just trying to keep us fed She cries every time I throw her a stack of bills I cry inside when I see her take her heart pills
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Seeing my mama ill kills me inside She got that cancer and diabetes I tell her that hurts me more than the streets do And even then I grew I was fourteen when I started banging Great grandparents were Black Panthers Grand pappy was a “Crip” so I became one too Put a gun in my hand and showed me how to shoot I remember taking it to school everyday Just hoping somebody had something stupid to say Cuz I’ll be quick to grip my iron And pull out their mind for everyone to see Grand pappy loved that his grandson was a G When I was 16 Grand pappy got hit with life, four times over He’ll spend the rest of his life in Angola, maximum security All a young nigger can do is pour a little liquor When I miss’em This thug life got em catching up to God quicker And I’m right behind em Just a heavy weight on my way to Heaven’s gate Hoping I don’t get denied for all the sins I didn’t repent for I’m sixteen now and can’t read, write, or spell Just a young nigger on his way to hell Only skills I got is robbing and stealing Only options I have is prison or six feet under But still I wonder, if I could go back to day 1 What would I change? Not a thing I speak about Louisiana like it’s all I know And I’m not talking about the Casinos
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or Mardi Gras That makes tourists think it’s a beautiful place I’m talking about the poverty where I’ll probably Die before eighteen and damn I’m only seventeen
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UNTITLED Bryan S.
A cold, dark and lonely alley An old dog lays afraid of people All it gets is yells and screams “Get, get away, and go!� Ribs easy to see as he struggles to breathe, Tics and fleas eat at his once beautiful coat Now infected with mange Heartworms digging holes In its heart where love used to be Eyes blurry, hard to see Cuts and bruises on toes make walking brief Cavities in all its teeth making it hard to eat The pang of hunger making it difficult to sleep Till one day a little girl with a hotdog walking It is more than a feast for its eyes As its face lightened up for just a taste A nearby officer reaches under his waist Gripping his .45, finger never slipping He pulls three rounds to its head Now in peace an old dog lays
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HUMAN MOTHER BEASTS Bryan S.
Elegant beasts impregnated against their will For purebred babies made to kill Monstrous moms Distorted souls locked in battle Overused like a horse and saddle Owners watch and get their kicks As these fierce moms get nicked and bit If their necks are reached they may lose their litter May lose their lives as they struggle to survive Their souls begin to lock like push and pull Give and take their legs start to shake Some of these beasts’ mate is their brother So to the litter its aunt and its mother A mother’s love is like no other Can you feel it as you get smothered? Never doubt the pain of your mother To give more than they have And show you their love So take these absurd words As we live with the women we love We as people are nothing more Than the beasts we domesticate
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THE COFFIN Sebastian F.
It’s dark. It’s small. You can’t move You can’t breathe. You’re thinking Where am I going? Where am I? You look for the light but can’t find it You’re crying and yelling for help No one comes then it comes to you Everything rushing as a bullet The party, the drinking, the chick You go home, your wife waiting “You smell like another woman! You’re fucking dead!” She said You feel the gun to your head Now you know, you’re dead In a suit lying in a coffin bed.
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SUMMER NIGHT - AUGUST 24, 2009 Sebastian F.
Love is strong like a rose in the summer You see the rose as the burning hot sun You see your heart burning for a loved one The rose falls from its beauty You cry when nights come Your beauty cries for light to come Shine on the rose for its beauty to come But the rose never gets its beauty Your love cries for summers to come You stay crying for the night Never hurt your beauty because It will prick you like a thorn And you will cry because it hurts When the rose blooms in the summer Its beauty is more beautiful than you You cry for the nights to come And cry for the thorn that hurts you Never let beauty bloom in summer And when nights come tell Your beauty she’s beautiful For when summer comes the pain From the rose thorns remains
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MYSELF Caleb P.
Everyday when I wake up I think about my mom I think about my Dad, my brothers and my sisters Who visit me every week But when I end up in BCU* And don’t get to see them it gets me sad I have no reason not to get in trouble Get restrained, and make it double Even after all the times I’ve destructed property Kicking in my window, punching holes in the wall Throwing desks, stabbing holes in a basketball I still have to live with myself And as my time goes by I want to be able to look myself straight in the eye But I don’t want to stand in the setting sun And hate myself for the things I’ve done I can never hide myself from me I see what others may never see And as long as I live with myself No matter how hard I try You will always see me
*Behavioral Control Unit
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FALLING Savannah F.
I’m not falling face down again It is just so hard to make any sense Yet still less easy to conceive What do I have to do with these questions? Still living a mystery Every word you’ve said wasn’t worth it There will be oh no more fighting Whenever fate shall dispose of me When shall all be exciting? I’m so stuck without knowing what is the matter I’m starting to get enraged It’s probably indifference Through circumstances Just by wanting to escape the truth I am reaching in to all my conflictions Even though they’re all so polluted Now I have such disordered steps And while my mood has increased Why won’t I just stop and fade away now? By the weight of our sorrow, Love Love, I’m not falling face down again
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VICTORIOUS, PROSPEROUS, FORTUNATE: IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL IT? Savannah F.
This one is particular than no other, but favorable in all results This one in which I mention is quite often precluded For the wealthy, or inferior, to easily consume Very few people seem to manage the value The high standards and even the quantity You are all so mixed up, like a parade of opinions Contradictions welcoming each other It’s quite understood we are our own individuals Yet excuses, excuses, individuals or not, We’re still not a whole Who are you to say what defines the truth? You are aware that we’re nowhere close To the state of mind as God All we have is what we’re grown to know So how do we actually know That what we’re taught really is the truth? While listening to some cop out trying to explain and preach the truth While looking at the soul within Realization then sinks in We all have it but do not know it or never find it Success that is
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VICTIMS Savannah F.
My victims come out looking as if they saw the dead No more chances cause you don’t deserve it I’m seeking my revenge So you know it’s not ok And if you still don’t understand I swear that these tortures will force the truth away But I know the truth’s not fair I’m seeking my revenge Better watch out cause I’m back again I don’t know if you’re ever gonna recover I mean do you even know what torment means? Wake up wake up Because this is the shattered me That’s not known nearly well I can see you’re still puzzled And you don’t have to be You’re only hurting yourself
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I DESPISE Taylor S.
To look into his desperate eyes How much strength he had over me I despise To see my body exposed for the first time To see him caress my breast and feel me To see myself giving in Because you know Competing with him I will never win
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SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS Rudy F.
Sorry for your loss Sorry for the struggles Missing a loved one Someone so close to you Your heart eating away With memories of him Thinking about the bad times And the good Rain and shine God has plans for us Even though it hurts He’s in a better place now Up and above with angels With him in time eternally
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RAZA OR NADA Michael P.
Homeboy, it’s Raza or no one Cuz we’ll blow a hole in your skull It’s raza from Los to San Anton It’s like eh homes run into the canton Get the chrome before we get our head blown Puro pelons from the city of angels to the Tone The count down city where they show no pity Homies, know your mente When it comes to our gente We no chapetes but carry big cuetes I’m asking you to pray for my raza Cuz we’re going through tuff masa I try to be strong for my people But know that we can be lethal Homey, keep your mind right We all want to live in the limelight But just keep your head right Because the Fed’s up to something So keep trucha for the jura Homeboys, respect your jefas and rucas Lord, praise your name, show us the way Simon, homeboy you know what it is You know, Ese, it’s a crooked biz La Raza having kids they can’t support But they still strive for what they need We know money and fame turns to greed Homes, we are strong people Our want is for people to see that we are equal And to salute the Latinos in the Chevy Caminos
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To my carnales, slanging the jale, I know a ti te vale Homeboy, think about your madre y padre And if they know what you were doing Don’t ruin what they’ve sacrificed 4 U I know we show no remorse, foo Just believe we can get through it As I end this verse remember Only Raza can cap out the curse
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TO MY DARK SIDE Michael P.
Why do you hold me back? Is it cuz I’m Mexican and a little black? But I don’t care what the reason Mexican blood is what I’m bleeding You can call what you believe I know I can achieve anything As long as you stay away I believe I’m going to pay For my sins that I’ve done There’s no place to run or hide Because deep down inside I know I can become something I’m a human being That’s the opposite of what I feel Because I feel like a caged animal Waiting to be killed is no thrill It gives me a creepy chill I’m not who you think I am I’m not Mexican but I’m a Mexi-can And I’m a super powerful android That refuses and cannot be destroyed The darkness is just a decoy For me to deploy My good side Not the hood side But the real person The one that’s really hurting I’m working for the right side You know that light side
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Not the dark night side To my dark side I’m on the wrong side You know I’m going to ride When my good and evil collide So watch as I ignite The words that I recite
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LIFE IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER Savannah F.
In one direction only, it will surely fade From the ones who keep it from withdrawal No way and any way will it distantly Seem to have happened, will it shatter all doubt? They will break the ones that are so very strong And yet weak from end to end Dead, invisible, capacity low Your entire life you might as well send Even struck from beyond, never the less They’re also living to their senses too No one notices you’re alive, only if You consider it selfish, shameful blues I know you have that missing piece in you I can see it because I hold it too
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