7upper by NY Writers Coalition

7Upper

Writing from Rikers Island, EmTC Through The Fortune Society Fall 2011 â&#x20AC;&#x201D; 1 Spring 2012

7UPPER

Writing from Rikers Island, EMTC through the Fortune Society

Fall 2011 - Spring 2012

NY WRITERS COALITION PRESS 3

Copryright ÂŠ 2013 NY Writers Coalition, Inc. ISBN-978-0-9787794-7-4 Library of Congress Control Number: 2013932160 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Upon publication, copyright to individual works returns to the authors. Editor: Patrick Mathieu, Rose Gorman, Lauren Hudson Layout: Patrick Mathieu, Rose Gorman Title: Patrick Mathieu Cover Image: Willie Smalls Interior Images: Patrick Mathieu, Willie Smalls 7Upper contains writing by members of the Fall 2011 and Spring 2012 NY Writers Coalition creative writing workshops conducted at Rikers Island, EMTC through The Fortune Society. About NY Writers Coalition NY Writers Coalition is a nonprofit organization that provides free creative writing workshops for unheard New Yorkers. For more information about NYWC: NY Writers Coalition Inc. 80 Hanson Place, #603 Brooklyn, NY 11217 (718) 398-2883 info@nywriterscoalition.org www.nywriterscoalition.org About The Fortune Society The Fortune Society works to create a world where all who are incarcerated or formerly incarcerated can become positive, contributing members of society. The Fortune Societyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mission is to support successful reentry from prison and promote alternatives to incarceration, thus strengthening the fabric of our communities. For more information, visit www.fortunesociety.org.

Introduction In 1996, after two trials due to misidentification, I spent ten years in the New York State prison system. Unlike most prisoners in that system, my experience occurred after four years of college and a career as a professional dancer who toured the U.S., Puerto Rico, and Romania, who received favorable reviews from Jennifer Dunning of the New York Times and Jennie Schulman of Backstage Magazine; and who made his off -Broadway debut in the 1990 production of Caucasian Chalk Circle at the Public Theatre before the children arrived in 1991. Because my wife and I separated in 1995, she choosing to return to Louisiana with the children, rendering me somewhat lost as to which direction I should now take in life, I viewed imprisonment as an opportunity to do something I missed: study. One fascinating subject I studied was the history of prisons. After reading a book entitled With Liberty for Some – 500 years of Imprisonment in America, by Scott Christianson, it became evident I was lucky that my prison experience occurred after the Attica uprising. Before that final uprising, prisons in the U.S. were truly hell on earth. Even writing to the courts was forbidden. One prisoner “resorted to smuggling out a petition to the courts that he had written in his own blood on toilet paper.” While detained on Riker’s Island, my first impression was, while not psychotic, most detainees were clearly psychologically and/or emotionally unbalanced. The second most glaring impression was that new arrivals looked, at best, harangued and clearly like someone who may have been rescued from the system by the system! It was fascinating to observe physicality and emotional demeanors drastically change for the better within a couple of months. The reason 5

for this became evident as I researched the history of prisons and learned that the overwhelming majority of prisoners in New York State come from seven of New York State’s poorest counties. Once convicted and transferred from county jail (Riker’s Island) and into the state prison system, I noticed an insatiable hunger for knowledge among those who had already been in three or four years; a thirst not for mundane knowledge; that is, how to push the right button or fit widgets in proper slots or who wrote what, when, where. Rather, a thirst for history and truth about reality of existence. During those ten years I not only satiated my thirst for history but also managed to learn law to the extent that I won motions and had five judges of the appellate division agree with me that the hearing judge in my case committed an error of law. When I regained liberty in 2006, the lawyer I had subsequently hired to file my federal appeal, hired me as her paralegal. I’m not boasting. I’m simply establishing that my writing skills were pretty good by the time I regained liberty. In 2007, at The Fortune Society, I noticed a flyer inviting clients to join a creative writing workshop offered by NY Writers Coalition (NYWC). I wasn’t interested in creative writing per se. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what was meant by creative writing. But I thought I could walk into that workshop and persuade whoever was leading it to edit a book I began writing in prison. Thus, I walked in and met John Maney, Jr. As I sat though, it dawned on me I might actually have to participate in this creative writing thing before being able to broach the Please Edit My Book request. As writing prompt, or something to inspire writing, John placed several post6

cards on the table and invited us to choose one and describe it. I absentmindedly reached in and retrieved a black-andwhite photo of Duke Ellington. I was horrified. What words could I possibly muster to pay homage to this giant? I almost tossed it back in when it occurred to me that while no one could fault me for not being eloquent enough to pay homage to this legend, I would pressure myself to have to write brilliantly about the postcard I consciously chose. So I relaxed, decided to simply do as John suggested, and began describing what manifested as the first piece of poetry I ever wrote. I was addicted and participated in that workshop at The Fortune Society until 2011, when I received an email from NYWC, inviting me to their two-day workshop leader training. Soon, I began leading three workshops, one of which, ironically enough, was on Riker’s Island. Except for “Out of Sight, Out of Mind” written by fellow workshop leader Rebecca McCray, and the piece entitled “Sitting in 7-Upper” written by me, all works in this chapbook are from prisoners who were on Riker’s Island between Fall 2011 and Spring 2012. I am always amazed at how the NYWC model frees individuals from all backgrounds, to write amazing pieces of poetry, descriptive prose, or a short story in a one sitting. Instead of formatting the book by author I have chosen to format it by prompts. What the actual prompts were is not relevant because prompts are only suggestions and can be ignored, hence the freedom created for writing. I believe using the prompts, instead of authors, as format will best convey to the reader the magic I experience at every NYWC creative writing workshop.

Except for possible grammatical issues that I was asked to edit, the content of the works have not been edited. They are as they were produced during the workshops. Finally, I would like to thank everyone at NYWC, The Fortune Society, and Rikerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Island for their help and support in making this chapbook possible. Also, a special thanks to Willie Smalls for his incredible art work. Patrick Mathieu NY Writers Coalition Workshop Leader Fall 2012

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms. â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Muriel Rukeyser

Everyone has a story. Everyone has a voice. â&#x20AC;&#x201D;NY Writers Coalition

Out of Sight, Out of Mind Every cartographer has to leave something out. Street names, landmarks, tiny inlets — a two-dimensional rendering of our world can’t possibly include everything. This kind of selective exclusion reminds me of a specific khaki-colored mass of unmarked land on a map that I often find myself puzzling over during my commute. It hangs on the wall of every train car in New York City’s subway system, and I suspect a few of the other millions of people navigating this city glance at it occasionally, too. On that map, a smallish blob of unlabeled land rests just northwest of LaGuardia Airport in the waters between Queens and the Bronx. This island is not uncharted territory — this is New York City, after all; we know what we’ve got, and we’ve packed every inch of it to the brim. This is especially true of Riker’s Island, that unmarked land, which is home to ten jails that currently house over 13,000 people. Most of those people are awaiting trial behind bars because they cannot afford their bail; others will be sent further away to prisons upstate. Since 1935, we’ve kept the people we’d rather not think about on this forgettable piece of land, which previously served the city as a floating trash heap before becoming a jail. Poetic, isn’t it? Riker’s Island isn’t alone in its invisibility. Most of our country’s thousands of prisons and jails are tucked away on isolated, undesirable plots of land where the 2.3 million people kept in them are more easily forgotten. For those of us who don’t have family or friends in jail or prison, it’s easier this way — we can think of them less if they’re kept in places to which we’d rather not travel (or in the case of the map on the train, places that can easily be forgotten because they go unmarked). 10

For prison developers, the cheap cost of land and lack of conflict to contend with when building in economically depressed, rural areas has a unique appeal. As someone who grew up in a state full of towns so tiny they couldn’t all make the map, I understand the need to pick and choose. But a country that incarcerates one in every 100 of its people has a responsibility to make those millions of people visible. Perhaps something as minute as a map on a train isn’t a bad place to start. We can’t afford to go about our lives only acknowledging the pretty places on our maps, and the people who live in the places deemed worthy of naming. This invisibility is inhumane. It is negligent. And it is expensive. Between our state and federal systems, taxpayers spend $70 billion per year on prisons and corrections. Wouldn’t you like to know where that money is going? The next time you’re on the subway, take a look at the map on the wall of the train car. Take a minute to consider that bit of land next to LaGuardia. Consider the places you aren’t trying to get to, where the trains won’t take you. The map might have you believe it’s nameless, but it’s not — and neither are the thousands of people stowed away on it. They have families and stories and lives in places that are named. And it is our responsibility to make the invisible visible again by remembering them; by acknowledging that island and naming it on our maps. Rebecca McCray NY Writers Coalition Workshop Leader Fall 2012 11

We are instrument by which word flows from, to… —Patrick Mathieu

For Obvious Reasons, We Didn’t Get Out Last Night Hector Alejandro For obvious reasons we didn’t get out last night, not because she wasn’t ready; actually her hair was did, and her nails done! That wasn’t the issue. Problem was I was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t late because I didn’t care or was otherwise occupied having a good time having a drink with the fellas at the strip club. Instead I was on my way to Riker’s Island, where I’d be “late” and not make it out for the next years’ worth of nights! For obvious reasons I didn’t make it out that night!

Untitled Marcos Perez As I entered this semi-dark room with dark brown peeling walls I noticed garbage in various corners of the huge room. Beds were lined up against the walls on both sides near the windows and two feet apart throughout the room. The steam from the bathroom carried the odor of numerous people relieving themselves. Further in, people sitting, standing, talking and arguing about different topics to a point that fight could break out at any point. Then the silence and attention turned toward me as I slowly walked in, looking for a bed of my own. I find one near the back of the room and sit on a thin plastic mattress. The frame is steel and rusted from heat and humidity. I make my bed with yellow stained sheets and lay down in 7-Upper. 13

In These Four Walls Mark Rivera God how much do I hate this feeling. The feeling of being trapped in these four walls. The feeling of being lost in my own thoughts. The feeling of being constantly punished for a crime at all cost. All for the love of money & it’s funny because I put myself in these four walls, these closed doors. I put myself to have these lost thoughts while I walk these halls, constantly wearing green & crazy because that’s the color I craved for, but now I look in the mirror & there’s nothing I hate more.

Windows Hector Alejandro The windows I look through these mornings are based at a small island, which is a prison called Riker’s Island. The inspiration I get from my view with a kill is the feeling cows must feel when they find out they’re not on a road trip, but on their way to slaughter! Though I see and feel this, I use my inner eye to see the things I love most, like wife and family, and try to look forward to giving them something back on their investment in me, and somehow make sure the windows I look through are to see life’s finer things— my children playing, my wife while she reads and sunbathes in her favorite spot on her favorite chair. Then I will truly know and understand what it is to look out a window, with a view! And future!

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Untitled Keith Whitley In these 4 walls I sit and think, think and sit In these 4 walls I defecate and urinate, urinate and defecate In these 4 walls I wait and contemplate, contemplate and sabotage In these 4 walls I build and destroy, destroy and build In these 4 walls I kill and let live, let live and kill and still I remain in These 4 walls until I rest and wake up to stare at These 4 walls

Money Marcos Perez What is money? Whose money is it? Is money necessary to survive? When people say you need money to eat, to clothe yourself, to shelter yourself, to entertain yourself, it seems you need it for just about everything. But we don’t eat platefuls of money. We don’t clothe ourselves with money or have homes built of money, watch a show of dancing money. I believe we don’t really need those pieces of paper that say “This note is legal tender for public and private debts.” Debt is the key word that keeps us attached to this object that controls everyone and makes them into a mindless slave - slave to the system to make private bankers rich. I can go on and on and on. Just watch Zeitgeist “Federal Reserve Bank” and see for yourself.

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Money? Neville Redd (Storm) There Are a lot of face’z of money. You got that 9 to 5 money & Then you have the bitch get the fuck up And go make my money And then there is the good face of money And the Love And root of all evil money The kind where I run up on you with my 45 in hand and make you take off everything And send you home in just your boxers And then there is the I.R.S. money where they find out that your making too much money and come knocking on your door with a pink slip talking about give us what you have or take this jail time!

Money Jeffrey Haischer Money! Money! Money! Never enough honey! I ain’t got enough for all this stuff and that’s not funny. I worry all the time and sweat the crime just to get more money! 18

Luis Torres Marcos Perez Luis Torres is a 21 year old Dominican from the Bronx. He is a ladies man and was given everything so he didn’t have to work as hard as us normal folk. Life was fast and easy for him, driving cars and spending money at the clubs. They called him Tsunami cause I guess he washed up on everything and destroyed everything in his path. He didn’t have a care in the world. Life is easy for him for now; let’s just hope he wakes up and learns that life is to be taken seriously and not like some Amusement ride that lasts one minute. My Freedom – taken My Liberties – Removed A sacrifice my loved ones must endure. A belief in my cries that success will come around next time; a new found knowledge that was learned here at N.Y.C. D.O.C.

Twilight, Tumble, Terror Marcos Perez I am in a battle with myself lately. Unknown thoughts enter my mind and I’m unable to understand why. Uncontrollable dreams that overwhelm my emotions, debating with myself, trying to convince myself if the terror I just witnessed was real or not. I tumble out of control, spinning like a top with no end. I think, in the twilight of my life, why do the dreams terrorize my mind? Searching my pockets for money to pay the toll for the bridge to escape this hostile place.

In the Abundance of Water the Fool is Thirsty Jeffrey Haischer Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m Lucky enough to be loved by others and once loved deeply by a wonderful woman whom I chose for my wife. Despite my good fortune I wandered outside the lines of accepted behavior and chose another, that one, the other, thinking surely I can have my cake and eat too. Now years later, several convictions and even another marriage and divorce, 2nd time around, I still often will see the grass as greener on the other side of the fence. To choose the other something has too often shown me a hard truth to swallow. Despite the abundance of consequences I still have to fight choosing another, that other something!

Knowledge Hector Alejandro In the abundance of water the fool is thirsty. Because we know this to be fact, that you can lead a horse to water but canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t force him to drink, it makes me think of life itself. I went to school on a daily basis but was more interested in selling drugs, using drugs and making love! I closed my mind and ears to all knowledge. Now as an adult I savagely hunger for all knowledge in all its forms, so I say in retrospect I was and still am a fool in an abundance of water, but still I thirst. 20

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Time, Prison, Sacrifice, Love, Life Mark Rivera Lost in time, lost in life, sacrificed it all for a price. Sacrificed my freedom, just to fuck up my life. All for what? A dollar sign, I could’ve got it, if I done it right. Nah. I’m a stupid nigga thinking that stealing could have supported my life. That stealing is what gave me the love of my kid and wife. That stealing is how I make that dollar sign right. And I did it all for the right reasons, but I sacrificed for this life in prison.

Looking Back Bruce Teachy Looking back over the years of my life from childhood on into my teens starts me to think about my actions and the life that I’m leading at this time and year. Looking back starts me to look for the problem I’ve shared with drugs. There’s no way that I could have looked into the future and seen my life wasted in jails growing old with gray hair. Looking back from being a child and now can’t go back and start over again. Along with being broke and confused in this world, if you’re following someone else’s plan you’re good and if not you’re pushed aside and disrespected… Looking back over the years.

Gangsta Love BG Da Don Was there light in the water, When I fell in and drowned? In fact all I saw was black, A black so dark it was darkness. A darkness that overwhelmed me so much the only sensation felt was suffocation, pain, suffering. A cold rush straight to my lungs, I feel nothing but my heart beating hard and fast. 808 drum, Thump, Thump, Thump! Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m done, white light here it comes. The truest meaning of calm before the storm, Now I must be judged for my rights and wrongs. As I mourned, I prayed the twenty-third Psalm.

Eternal Love Marcos Perez What is love? Is it a word? Or a bunch of letters to describe a feeling? Is it possible for something to last that long? How do we know something can last that long? Or is it just a saying to describe how much you love someone or thing?

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Love Henry Figueroa Love is blind. Love can be beautiful. Love can hurt as well, but you know you in love when all you do is think about that one person all the time, that is love, or is it. 24

Untitled Lynk Santiago Q.

Was there light on the water When I fell in and drowned?

What difference does it make or maybe, it’s not relevant or related to the law of relativity. According to Einstein nothing travels faster than light; perhaps. But only if “light” represent “hope” and “drown” is representational or equal to my down-fall or to being incarcerated or to my addiction or lifestyle. Therefore, by any mean, the way I felt, or falling didn’t affect me as much as the way or means & effort to be re-born in faith based on my life experiences as this very moment our present, soon will be our past

Continued 25

did not matter as long as there’s light, our future awaits brighter than ever…

James Jeffrey Haischer James was a wealthy overworked executive who caved into his wife Paula’s badgering and bought an apartment overlooking the beach. Against his own good sense in real estate ventures, he purchased beach property that is in peril every year due to hurricane season, but now his socially conscious wife could throw beach parties that were the envy of society and he wouldn’t have to listen to her whining anymore. Oh! This just in. James is the one full of laughter today. One weekend his wife threw a party for all her wealthy pompous friends despite weather reports and warnings she carried on with her plans of having the beach party of the season. The only thing that outshined Paula and her party was a gal named Katrina that washed Paula and her beachfront apartment full of guests out to sea never to be seen again. James, despite his losses, is still laughing today, seven years later from his rubber room overlooking the beach! 26

Kidnapped Philip Herring Startled, scared, blindfolded, tied to a chair. Humid and damp, hearing sound of city streets in the background, then sound of footsteps heavy, slow and steady, coming towards him who is now bound. He rips off the blindfold. A single light blinds the victim as he tries to focus on the surrounding area. A voice then comes from the shadows. “Hello, and welcome.” The victim could not respond because of tape over the victim’s mouth. “If you are wondering where you are, don’t bother. Absolutely no one will be able to hear you or find you.” The victim was now thinking, why did I go down that alleyway and why me? I’m nobody important. I’m no VIP? The voice came again, deep and evil. “I have good news for you and I also have bad news.” The victim thought, there’s always good news and bad news. Like I need more bad news, but how much worse can it get? “The good news,” the deep voice spoke, “is that I’m not going to kill you. However,” the voice continued, “I have bad news for you. You’ve been kidnapped.”

Fear Neville Redd (Storm) Sometime I talk to myself and ask Torry, what do you fear? But I have no answer because I don’t fear nothin’ or nobody, but there is one thing though. Bein’ away from my family I never know when or who is going to come and take me from them, maybe the pigs or the evil people that I see in the streets, I never know who can but I don’t have a fear of nobody because they’re goin’ to have to put up a war to get me away from my family. I just fear one day I’m goin’ to wake up, and it’s all goin’ to be gone, God forbid.

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Ring! Ring! Bang! Bang! Lynk Santiago You:

Hello? Who’s this? Who’s calling me at this time? What’s this noise?

The Voice:

I got bad news!

You:

But, why? Say, who?

The Voice:

You have just been kidnapped!

You:

That’s funny! Ha, ha, ha… OK? Enough, what’s this all about?

The Voice:

The Q. is are you really ready to hear, when you haven’t your entire life. And I been so close. . .but ignored by your self- centered self, had you cared if “Me” were growing stronger and smarter?

You:

Stop! Tell me please? You got my attention.

The Voice:

I knew this time would come, but now your free-will, it’s your downfall, I been there, along with my allies, since the b e g i n n i n g . As your #1 fan, got to fulfill your every need, but you never acknowledge me.

You:

I’m so, so sorry! Didn’t mean to hurt you or your allies.

The Voice:

I got your undivided attention, am I?

You:

Yes! Yes! How can we work this out? 29

The Voice:

What I want humanity had already lost, it doesn’t belong to ya any longer.

You:

Oh! God! Are you the Devil?

The Voice:

Ha, ha, ha! Am I? Or are you? As I said I got bad news, you had been kidnapped by your own unconscious mind. You may call me “Sin” last name Vanity!

So, You Think You Can Tell a Smile from a Veil Jeffrey Haischer You think you are safe from all harm me with a face far from wicked all full of charm. I want to make my path easier I have to be a pleaser. To get what I want today I have to keep you at bay so I smile creating a veil to set smooth my sail on a mission of malice I offer you the grail my chalice. 30

How Far Away is Happiness? Mark Rivera I opened my eyes to look up into the sky only to realize I was blind. Blind to the world and its beauty. Blind to the happiness in being free. Blind to the wrong to survive. As I tried to find a way out of this saddened place, I realized I had no eyes, how was I supposed to find a way out now. This is when I started to listen. Listening to my surroundingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;z, hearing echoes on the wall. Listening to the foot stepâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;z of other people walking the door. So happiness is not far at all cause if I listen, I will find the way out I was looking for. 31

Happiness Philip Herring How far away is happiness? As far as you want it to be. When you can’t see the joy in front of you, then it’s as far as the eye can see. For some it could be something small as the steady beat of your heart. Or the laughter of a child after someone makes a fart. It could be the arms of love that wraps around you from someone you love. Or the flight and freedom of a singular dove. How far away is happiness? For me, it’s as close as my skin. My heart swells with joy. Because I’ve found my happiness and it’s not far at all. How far away is happiness? Not far at all. If you know what you’re looking for then you’re on the ball.

How Far are you from Happiness? Jeffrey Haischer I’m as close as a letter from you Mom to confirm all the things about myself this experience makes me doubt. The fact that you find me worthy of sharing with, and you care enough to write to me, gives me pleasant feelings. I get to laugh and smile in a place that makes all those things difficult, at best. You always find just the right things to say. I’m thankful that I have you in my life and that your letters are only an arm’s length away.

Sibling Letter Pakij Kent Ochjaroem My interpretation of “sibling letter” would be just a basic pen to paper letter or mail. Simple old-school pen to paper format. In this time and age I find that to be a rare part of society nowadays with the technology and modern day telecommunication dukes. Coming in and out of the jail/prison system in the past decade has made me notice that a simple piece of mail/letter is very rare, or to say, taboo nowadays. Usually the only people I see getting letters would be old timers, people with age. And this is most likely because they already have a network of people who put pen to paper. As far as the new generation growing up, being spoiled by 33

texting, emailing, and all those social networking sites, they don’t seem to know what it’s like to put pen to paper. Nowadays people won’t even answer their phones unless they know who is calling with caller ID. When I was growing up you answered every call. Matter of fact, you remembered everybody’s number by heart. Numbers weren’t programmed in like nowadays. And if it weren’t phone calls as a way of communicating, you wrote a letter. Simple pen to paper.

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Confused Anger Neville Redd (Storm) Am I confused or just angry? IDK because I have a lot of things going on in my head, there are days when I just want to lash out with anger but then I think, Am I confused or what? Why am I so angry or am I losing my motherfuckin’ mind? But I know why, because I have to get up day after day and look at someone every day having them tellin’ me when I can sleep, eat, or shit, and Storm don’t like people tellin’ him what to do and how to do it, so am I angry or confused?

But, I Thought We Had an Agreement? Anothony Rucco I thought that my wife and I had an agreement, to write to one another at least once a week. However I haven’t received a letter from her yet this week. Although I do understand that she may be busy with our newborn baby daughter; I still find myself a bit upset. For myself, writing once a week is easy due to the fact I happen to have so much free time. I still feel a bit uptight because I didn’t receive a letter from her yet. Nevertheless I know that I must remain stress-free and mentally strong to get by. 35

Freedom and How it was Taken Henry Figueroa Once there was a person by the name of Frank. He had all the freedom in the world. He always had the new things that came out. He had a beautiful life and a beautiful girlfriend, but one day he met a woman that had a cold heart but he put up with it. He tried to help this woman out with anything she needed, but one day Frank was coming home from work and he was arrested for no reason, and come to find out she wrote a false statement about Frank and that is when Frankâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s freedom was taken away from him for trusting evil people.

Liberty, Freedom, Knowledge, Belief, Success, Sacrifice Anothony Rucco Liberty & Freedom: Are (2) two things that I have given up for the past (25) twenty-five years to drugs, alcohol and prison. Knowledge: Is something that I gained about the true inner self. Belief: Belief in God or my higher power is what has kept me alive throughout all of these years. Success: Is something that I plan to accomplish upon being released from this oppressive situation. Sacrifice: Comes with change so therefore I know that I will have to expect to make some sacrifices, big & small. 36

Freedom Bruce Teachy Freedom to me is something that I seem to play with, because I always wake up and find myself in jail on my birthdays, summer times and New Years. Freedom is what I must take back and keep in the coming years of my life. The games are over and freedom must stand for something in my life, if not I’m going to be very sad . . . (Freedom).

Liberty Jeffrey Haischer I live in a time when it seems that my government is in the business of dictating every facet of life. Over the course of the past twenty-five years I seen the drinking age go from 18 -21 but I was eligible for the draft and expected to fight for the freedom and the liberty that comes with the sacrifice of life. As a result of having survived these past twenty-five years alive my belief in the Constitution and the knowledge I’ve gained through experience has shown me that despite having had cars, a house, fancy clothes and monetary success, nothing is as precious as being able to go fishing with my grandpa at the beach while he smoked a lucky strike. Good thing he’s gone now because he’d be upset that it’s illegal to smoke a cigarette on a public beach that just a few years back he stood watch in harm’s way looking for German U-boats. 37

Liberty, Freedom, Knowledge, Belief Mark Rivera Freedom to me is a concept which everyone has the right to have complete control over. To have freedom is to be free of Self & mind. To be opened minded to new & different things that life has to offer. To have freedom is to have knowledge, knowledge to know whether or not you have the belief to be free. Because if you believe you can be free, you have the belief to one day live up to your full potential.

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Hunger Marcos Perez To describe hunger for me would mean different things: It can mean physical; as in in the term for food or sustenance; also for an object like clothes or electronics; or freedom like a way to describe a drive to want something. As my freedom was taken from me I yearned for that fresh air. That lone feeling left starved, trapped in waiting for my turn to be able to control my wants & needs. Unable to think, wondering why I cannot control myself. A want of control but left with helplessness, confusion, weakness; I wait for satisfaction of my hunger. 39

NYC Neville Redd (Storm) Yo ma what’s poppin’? A nigga can’t wait to get back to you, your sexy ass. I have been away from you for five months and I be thinkin’ like, damn, I left a bad bitch behind, damn, I miss everything ’bout you. Like just gettin’ up in the a.m. and running out of my house and startin’ to you. You was always there when I did not want you around, no matter what I said to you, called you all type of names but you was still there, there lookin’ in my window when you can or twenty-four hours out of the day. You showed a nigga a lot, like when I was runnin’ through the dark and you was on my back and I had the 45 in hand and the cherry and berry was on my ass but what happened? I got away and ran all up in your dark holes. Damn. I can’t wait to get back to you, my bad bitch, NYC.

I Am From Kevin Dingle I am from Brooklyn N.Y. I am originally from Africa I am from my mother and father But really I don’t know where I’m From, all I know is that I’m here, Could somebody really tell me Where I’m from 40

I Am From the Streets Anthony Rucco I am from the streets, where everything goes. These streets can be stone cold or nice and neat. I am from these streets where every day is a hustle, a beef or a game. I am from these streets where the strong survive and the game swallows up the lame. I am from these streets where your best friend is a buck in your pocket, these streets where the scams can eat you up and spit you in a bucket. I am from these streets; these streets are where I am from. No matter a rainy day or a day sitting under the sun, these beautiful streets are where I am from.

I’m From... Bruce Teachy Brooklyn where you can’t lunch on other people, yeah I know it’s not right to say but this is where I’m from. The cops are not cops and the people are not people. There’s gangs, drugs, guns, killing, rapes and let’s not forget the young kids that are running wild when they should be in school learning for a better day. But this is where I’m from. The hood. . . what it do!

I AM FROM!!! Jeffrey Haischer I am from someplace else no matter where I find myself at. Here, there, everywhere a little of this and a little of that. Way up North or the dirty dirty South you can hear it when I open my mouth. Where I am from depends on the situation time of day or my inclination.

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Walk into a Room and See a Hole in the Floor? Mark Rivera Every time I walk into a room there is a hole in the floor. Inside the hole there is a thousand trapped souls, all trying to find a way out. All these lost souls stuck in a well of their own fears, thoughts, and memories. Each one trying to reach out in their own way, each one falling deeper into their own thoughts, crying over the memories they once had, falling deeper into the hole with no one to hold and no one to grab.

Hello Lynk Santiago How ya feeling? On this wonderful evening. Sorry! But nothing starts without me. ’Cause “I” consider me to be or not to be the “heart and soul” of this gathering. What I choose may change moods and thoughts on all or a few, for a moment or for a night. It doesn’t matter, but as the night goes, I possess the power to save life Some have said, not me but I represent the essence powerful enough to transcend suddenly surpass, and translate to be understood in all languages or dialects surrogate violence beliefs, race or barriers imposed by society.

Continued 45

An entity, none able to see but we all know itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s there, â&#x20AC;&#x2122;cause we able to feel it, if I wish all may reminisce at my command all goes dark or goes colorful as bright, beautiful as the rainbow, which raise from the dark right before your eyes just like a star when is born far. Far in the Milky Way. my lows bangs! boost ya up! mids change you and make ya move from side to side my highs send chills right down your spines like the mighty merlin looks like magic & tricks my crew & I create smoke. 46

We are connected through waves of sound vibes, my grooves, so addictive but not destructive here I come tonight like a thief in the night with 16 bars or less steal something indescribable But you love it and so willing to give it no one can see it or smell it or touch it but we all know it’s there ’cause ya can feel it between us there are no secrets you all know I bring it even I gave it and finning (finishing?) and look forward to share it ’cause I serve no purpose without you my audience sincerely yours; I’m your DJ PS: See you next weekend... 47

Untitled Marcos Perez How far is happiness for me you ask? Well, in my current position would be two weeks; four days from now; or 392 hours or 23,520 minutes or 1,411,200 seconds from now would bring me ultimate happiness because it will be the day I get to go home and be with my loved ones and get away from this abuse they call jail!!!

Photo by Patrick Mathieu

Sitting in 7Upper Patrick Mathieu Dorm in Direct line

Smoothing plastic

Of sight

In time

He sat

Tearing open

Reaching

In time

In time Slowly chewing In time

Hidden slim-jim Ritualistically drawn

Making it

In time

Through Slowly stroked Convicted time

In time

Image by Willie Smalls

Acknowledgements NY Writers Coalition would like to thank the following supporters, without whom this writing community, workshop, and publication would not exist: The Bay & Paul Foundations Kalliopeia Foundation, the Meringoff Family Foundation, the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, the Nora Roberts Foundation, Two West Foundation, all our individual donors, attendees of the annual Write-A-Thon, and NY Writers Coalition members Mulan Ashwin, Michael Cosaboom & Diana Son, Charles LaFollette, and Jeffrey & Sheryl Posnick. NYWC would also like to thank John Gordon and Yolanda Morales at The Fortune Society, Winette Saunders-Halyard at the City of New York Department of Corrections, NYWC workshop leader Patrick Mathieu, the dedicated participants in this NYWC writing workshop, and all the contributors to 7Upper.

7Upper

is powerful an anthology of poetry and prose writ-

ten by members of the Fall 2011 and Spring 2012 NY Writers Coalition writing workshops at Rikers Island, EMTC through The Fortune Society.

CONTRIBUTORS Hector Alejandro

Pakij Kent Ochjaroem

Kevin Dingle

Marcos Perez

BG Da Don

Neville Redd/Storm

Henry Figueroa

Mark Rivera

Jeffrey Haischer

Anthony Rucco

Philip Herring

Lynk Santiago

Patrick Mathieu

Bruce Teachy

Rebecca McCray

Keith Whitley

NY WRITERS COALITION PRESS

WITH ART BY WILLIE SMALLS For more publications from NY WRITERS COALITION PRESS, visit our online bookstore at www.nywriterscoalition.org