For the chapter and music with the same title for my hocking Book Inside The Forbidden Outside. One of the themes that is stressed throughout the book is the law of cause and effect. Where we are at any moment is the effect of the causes we put in motion
What Goes Around Comes Around.
What goes around comes around
Outside looking in
Not understanding what we’ve done
When new effects begin
What goes around comes around
Inside looking out
Not understanding it’s already done
We can’t change what life’s about
Hands on a clock telling time
Counting minutes into years
The music playing in my head
Turns fears into falling tears
The universe lit up with stars
Spinning around the sun
To let us know as it slowly turns
A new day has begun
What goes around comes around It’s written, carved in stone We bear the fruit of who we are From all things that we’ve done
Lurking in back of my eyes Tasting the smells, seeing the ghosts No matter how often I tried Which memories shame me the most It reminds me of where I’ve been And how many miles I’ve gone I tied it up in a garbage bag And kept on walking alone
Too late, it caught up beside me And said hi, where have you been? Its time to pay the price dear You can’t run away from sin You made a cause, the effect is now There’s no choice, you can’t get away You chose to play, it’s time to pay It’s your end game, take a bow
It’s the game of games, winner takes all You can’t run away, you’ll stumble and fall If you lose there is no second chance Dance with devil, dance dance
There is no way to get around it Finish the hand life dealt No matter the depth of pain it caused No matter the fear you felt It’s time for you to pay the price There’s no choice, you can’t change the rules You’re rolling the dice for your life You can’t play me like I’m the fool
Years have passed, would you do it again Knowing who you’ve become Knowing how the game ends When you thought you were having fun Was it worth the price you had to pay Would you do it different today Looking in the mirror Seeing scars that never fade
It’s the game of games, winner takes all You can’t run away, you’ll stumble and fall If you lose there is no second chance Dance with the devil, dance dance Dance with the devil, dance dance
It is a process, writing, editing, chapters, blog posts, music, videos and poetry. I love doing all of it. It would be great if I could split my brain in two and do two things at the same time.
Today as I went through my notes I realized I had a half finished poem. That chapter was published about 6 months ago. Today I will post part of it for those who want to read it. Please subscribe for full chapters. Afterward just drop me a message and I’ll email the complete chapter to you.
It was so hard to keep his head together. Jamie’s mind went all over the place. It was hard when there was no one to talk to. There was no reason to not let his mind wander anywhere it wanted to go. He was so alone. He could only talk to himself. He was in 24/7 lock up for a year.
Administrative segregation, or adseg, it was called. Solitary in other prisons. It was all the same thing. He had tried so hard to not let this happen. Did it matter if he tried or not? Why did he agonize over it. He tried to stay away from trouble but it always found him, anyway. Mentally, he felt himself going down and there was nothing to keep him from smashing headfirst onto the bottom. He didn’t know what was going on. But he tried to get it together. Before this happened he tried. He didn’t know if he could try anymore. Before he got sent to lock up he had made a change in his life. It was a pretty big one. He thought at the time that maybe it would help, maybe not. Some dudes he met told him about Islam. He decided to join with them. They still believed in God, or Allah they called him, but there were a lot of differences in what the two religions believed. There were a lot of Christians and a lot of Muslims all saying they were right and the other was evil. His can they both be right? Islam has been around longer he was told. These inmates weren’t like a lot of the other ones. They didn’t talk tough. Peace was way more important than violence, than who was bigger and badder. He decided to give it a try because everything he had learned through the Bible didn’t do anything to help him. It never changed anything for him, no matter how much he prayed. His prayers weren’t answered. It didn’t make any difference and he thought by now something would have happened to let him know God was at least thinking about helping him. One of them gave him a book about the Islamic faith so he would have something to read and study. It wasn’t and he was supposed to pray five times a day. He needed a prayer rug to do it right but he didn’t have a way to get one. Still, he tried to learn and went to their meetings. Then this happened and he was more alone than ever. To have your life so controlled in prison was more than anyone could take without getting angry and wanting to bust everything up. How was he supposed to get rid of the anxiety? Eat now, sleep now, shower now, breathe now, take a crap now otherwise the toilet won’t flush and you have to look at and smell the shit all day. No, you can’t go to commissary. He couldn’t do anything unless it was at the right time that someone else determines. A year completely alone, meals alone and no one to talk to. It was too long. There was nothing to break the monotony, the boredom. Bits and pieces of thoughts swirled around in his brain and they wanted to make him crazy. Things were happening in his life on the outside he couldn’t control or fix. How could he deal with this confinement day after day and not be able to do anything about it? Not only that, he knew there was another man in Morgan’s life, but that had nothing to do with what they shared. But he couldn’t talk to her about it and it was killing him. He had to keep what they had separate from any other person. It was his sanity. The two ideas didn’t touch. He couldn’t handle thinking about it any other way. They shared the treasure of a son together. Nothing could take that away. She wouldn’t be with this dude if he hadn’t screwed up. He needed to believe she was still waiting, but it was getting harder and harder to do that. It was his own fault – all of it. Trying to find the answer wasn’t easy and many days he wanted to crawl under the floor and give up – just cash it in. Stop thinking of the future. He might not make make it that far. He might not get out of here. He started and stopped hunger strikes. He would only pull himself out of a funk because he was afraid of what it would do to his son. How would he deal with his own life when he grew up if he knew his father gave up on his?
(End of partial chapter. Click subscribe to get full chapters)
Fractures from falling Invisible pain Counting the minutes Like drops in the rain It runs down my body Soothing my skin Gathers the heartbeats Holding them in
Imagine forever Time without rest The passing of memories My hand on my breast Feeling my heartbeat Wanting to end I’m broken in pieces Too many to mend?
You get back what you give No more, nothing less Trace the wound with your finger A tiny caress Time doesn’t linger Waiting to heal The pieces of you That forgot how to heal
This is a partial chapter. To read complete chapters subscribe to ITFO News below. Any new subscribers from this date I will automatically send the current chapter. If you have already subscribed to ITFO News and would like it, drop me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org and type – “Please send Too Broken To Mend” in the email subject line and I’ll send it to you.
Am I Too Broken To Mend
Jamie reached his hands out and braced them on the wall. This was bullshit. He was tired of being on the receiving end of being ignored. What was the point? He tried hard to let it pass over him but today it got to him. He knew they were trying to make him angry. If they succeeded they could write up another case on him. Being in adseg was deliberate, they didn’t want to let him out of here, but he was determined to make his way back to G2 so he could go to school. He needed to take care of his family when he got out and that won’t happen if he didn’t have schooling and learn to do something that made enough money. Right now he couldn’t make enough money to take care of himself. If that happened what would he do? Would his family take care of him? For how long? The warden wanted him right where he was. Guards had an easy job when the men were locked up in their cells so they did whatever they could to make sure that happened. It didn’t help him none when he burst out with anger. He needed to learn to control his emotions. Once again the nurse pretended he wasn’t there when she made her rounds giving out meds. As she continued walking past him down the hall he yelled, “My meds, where are they? It’s been three days.” To top it off she turned around and gave him a cocky, know-it-all smile.IHer actions were deliberate. She knew he was supposed to get his seizure medication. Most likely she was told to skip him again. It didn’t make sense until he realized how much money the medical unit made by shorting inmates. He knew he wasn’t the only one being skipped. It didn’t matter what illness you had, they were going to short your meds. Who were you going to complain to? “I want to talk to an officer,” he yelled as the bars at the end of the hallway door slid open and clanked shut as she walked through. “I want to file a grievance,” he yelled louder, even though she was now beyond being able to hear him. It was pointless to file. No good ever came of it. He hadn’t heard of even one person saying they had filed one and it worked. The prison wasn’t going to stop because a complaint was filed. If anything, they would retaliate so you better think about how worth it was. The staff always got away with anything they did to the inmates. Nobody cared. He knew the chances of having more seizures increased every time they skipped his meds. They probably wrote in his file that they gave it to him so it would be his word against theirs. Maybe he should write it all down so if it was ever checked he’d have proof on his end, if that helped.
Jamie turned around, put his back against the wall and slid down until he was squatting on the floor. He folded his arms across his knees and lowered his forehead until it rested on his arms. He was tired; tired of doing nothing. He stayed that way for a long time thinking about how seizures had messed up his life and his helplessness at not being able to control them. It was a weakness they could take advantage of and there was nothing he could do about it. As a child he knew he was different from three other kids. His mama made him stay close to her. He want allowed to go outside and run around with the misc in the neighborhood. She checked on him a lot at night, afraid he would have a seizure when he was sleeping and she wouldn’t be there to help him through it. As he got older the seizures got worse. When he was twelve he had brain surgery. He was having non-stop headaches and his mom was worried. The doctor said there was bleeding on his brain and he wanted to see if he could stop it. “So what did they do?” At the sound of her voice Jamie jerked his head up. He had been almost asleep. Maybe he was still asleep. He pinched himself, but it didn’t change anything. He had been half expecting her to come back and at the same time realized that if she did, it could mean he was starting to lose it. He slowly turned his head and looked at her. There she was, sitting besides him on the floor, looking over at him just as casual as she could be, smiling, like it was a normal thing to be sitting next to him on the floor of a men’s prison. What should he do? He smiled back. “Better get used to it,” he mumbled to himself under his breath. He had a feeling this was just the beginning. “What did they do,” she repeated, as though she had been sitting beside him all along listening to the thoughts in his head. How long had she been sitting there? Could she hear what he was thinking, too? If she could that would be scary. Okay, if they were going to do this again, so be it. He wasn’t going to call the guard this time to see if he could see her, too. He didn’t want to get locked up with the crazies. He’d never get another hour of sleep. They scream and moan all night. What was he thinking? He must be nuts. No one would believe him if he told them. He closed his eyes and answered her question. “I don’t think I was ever so scared, even when I was arrested.” “I was having a lot of seizures. They made me feel sick. My mom was really worried.” “What caused them,” she asked. “People have them for different reasons,” he told her. “Sometimes, during their life they had a head a head injury, maybe in some sort of accident. Sometimes it takes years to have the first seizure.” “But there was no explanation for mine.” he added. “They were always there, from the very beginning, as soon as I was being born.”
This is the latest music video for the book “Inside The Forbidden Outside,” along with poetry written for it. When it is published in both paperback and Ebook, I want the videos to open in each chapter and give emotion to each chapter. I’m not to sure how to do that or if it is even feasible but it’s worth a shot to find out. My brain works mysterious ways, lol, finding ways to make this more complicated as I write. I see it in my head. It makes this whole project of writing and music more fun to do. Below are the words found in the video.
IS IT RAIN OR TEARS
Is it rain or is it tears I felt it on my face It seldom ceases through the years Will time be able to erase the scars created by the pain I bow my head, the water flows and cleanses all, a healing rain The sense of calm a tear bestows
Is it rain or is it tears I felt them one by one the wetness soothing untold fears my dying thirst will be undone I close my eyes, reach out my hands scrape my knuckles on the wall blood mixes with the tears that land to soothe the pain and heal it all
Is it rain or is it tears Is it salty when you taste wetness on your outstretched tongue slowly falling from your face The crying tears, the falling rain mixes on your skin Cools the heat and soothes the pain and lets the hope again begin
Can anybody hear me? Is anybody there? Can anybody tell me How I’m supposed to bear The never ending silence of no one in my head Yet chaos on the outside makes me scream instead
Who am I to talk to? Who can understand? The pain of never knowing The thoughts of another man I wait beside my cell door For mail to call my name And hope I’m not forgotten I’m lonely just the same
Did anybody listen? To the cries they heard inside Did anybody wonder? If my hope for life had died Did anybody hear me? Did you wait outside my door? Or did you leave and walk away You’re not waiting anymore
ReverbNation . . . Website of Indie music not on traditional radio stations. Sonni’s featured page.
SkunkRadioLive . . . Indie radio station out of London playing music composed for the book being written for Jamie. If you can, help support by sharing the music and leaving a comment or following. Thank you to those who have.
The piano music is titled “Inside The Forbidden Outside” copyright 2015 by Sonni Quick.
If you want to hear any of the other music go to http://soundcloud.com/sonni-quick. As with anything online, stats are important. Share, like or leave a comment for others to see. It would be a benefit for me. When my arm heals I’m coming out of retirement from music 14 years ago and play again.
For those not familiar with my music, it is all improvised. If there is an error it becomes part of the piece. I can’t play it again the same exact way. I recorded this as I was writing Jamie’s book. As my damaged arm becomes functional I can continue recording and editing the book.
When I woke this morning I had a vision of Jamie in the distance and these words came to mind. I thought how it must be to never be able to stretch out your arms and not touch something. His world is so small. No ability to run with abandon. We crave what we can’t have
I watched a video recently about inmates who have long sentences and what happens to those who initially supported them – those that were good friends and even family, spouses and long term girlfriends. They think at the time they will wait for them until they get out. They will stick by them until they are released no matter how long it takes. They mean it when they say it. They can’t imagine not being there for them, but they eventually go away. They start writing less and having excuses. They slowly forget them. They go on. But what if there are children?
The documentary stated that three years was the about the longest time even the people most in love can make it. Brothers and sisters make themselves believe they are too busy. But really, how much time does it take to write a brief note and say, “I still love you, bro.” instead of saying, “It’s not my fault you’re in there.” as if anyone blamed them for it. I only know what it has done to Jamie because he had to find a way to make himself not care. I know how hard that is. I’ve been through it but for different reasons. The pain is the same.
People can be pretty selfish and it’s hard for them to support someone who is incarcerated, so a lengthy sentence means they are pretty much on their own. A few kind words helps with depression when your family shows they love you. Family is often the first to hurt you because they feel entitled to do it. They pass judgement and are often the first to hang you out to dry. When the sentence is over do they expect all will be forgiven and life goes on as it did many years before? That is a tough question. I doubt they’d want to hear about what they have been through. Experiences have made them different people . How can they relate to each other? If it was a long sentence or a life sentence – forget it. So many people inside have absolutely no one, regardless of the reason they are there. Many didn’t have anyone before they went in.
Remembering My Life by Sonni Quick copyright 2015
After three years they might still have mom; maybe their kids and maybe they are now grown, although probably they visited infrequently. The more years that go by, older family dies and you are on your own. The unfairness of sentencing – life with no possibility of parole for what could be a simple theft – theft for a variety of reasons – with no one hurt. Still a crime, but a crime that should have a sentence that equals the crime and likely, at most should carry 5 years and then released -given back their life, but instead, depending on the state they are given life – a death sentence in some states because you are black. Buried alive. And maybe it was a serious crime. Either way the sentence is the same -cut off from everyone they love so they can be slaves for corporations who think their life has no value beyond the work a slave is meant to do.
I don’t blame my daughter for moving on from her life with Jamie. He doesn’t blame her, either. He never stopped loving her because she will always be the mother of his son. They are connected, but he has long since wanted anything else from her except for her to be happy. Life was hard raising kids on her own with little help. Her life is stable now with a man in her life who is good to her and her children. He has been a good father to their son and her other children. I am happy about that, but it left Jamie on his own without his family who hasn’t been there for him at all in eleven years. It left him without his son because no one would bring him to visit.
His family has not once helped him see his son. Excuses for ten years. No one could be bothered. I do blame them. They let him suffer on his own. No one thought of what that would do to him. The law of cause and effect is strict. Even if they are Christian you real what you sow. You get back what you give.
I worked hard to keep his head screwed on straight because I cared. No one else cared. Was I supposed to walk away from him, too, and still live with myself? Was I supposed to hurt him, too? Is that the kind of person I am? Should I have felt after three years that I had done enough? No, absolutely not. I only wish I could have done more.
From reading your letter it looks like your hands have been full. All this stuff you do on the internet. I’ve never messed around on the internet. Of course it’s nothing like it was back in the 90’s. We had a computer but no internet. There was no Windows or a mouse that you clicked on a screen. I was reading the new Time magazine I got. On the cover it has a little furry monster with horns, a big grin and also had a laptop on his lap. The article speaks about all different websites, what they are used for and so on. However, the main topic was about the hate in the internet world. It’s everywhere and it’s crazy. I think about that. People can hate and not be seen. They teach their kids to hate. You can pass them on the street and not know how much they hate and crap they spread all over the world. They don’t get hurt, but it causes other people to hurt each other.
Moving on: Guess what I had for breakfast. I must say the breakfasts have been a lot better lately. Scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, jelly and butter’ 1oz bowl of bran flakes and peaches. On this date next month I will have the exact same thing. The menu does not change.
I know it’s been hard taking care of your mom and doing all the things you do. Don’t try to do too much. You usually do. As time goes by maybe you’ll have more help from other family members. Please tell your mom I said hi and tell her not to give up.
I do know this. If I believe in anyone it is you. If you tell me not to worry, then okay, I won’t worry. You tell me you aren’t going anywhere. I believe that. I have to believe that. Sometimes it is hard because I see what happens to dudes in here. I get scared I’m going to lose you, but you tell me you aren’t going anywhere. I don’t think I would have made it without you. I won’t worry anymore.
Hey, can you do something for me? Can you look up anything you can find on the statue of Liberty in New York? I told this dude she had a name so he and I went back and forth about how it was a gift from the French, but we don’t know anything else about her history. Also, from now on, if you send books please have them be educational. English, history, math and science. I really do need to work on my education. I can’t wait for them to let me learn things.
That’s all for now. I have to get this out before they pick up mail.
Love always, Jamie
THE NEXT MONTHLY ISSUE OF THE ITFO NEWSLETTER WILL BE GOING OUT SOON. TAP THE LINK TO GET IT DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX. EACH ISSUE NOW WILL FOCUS ON A DIFFERENT ASPECT OF PRISON ISSUES EACH MONTH. THERE HAS BEEN NO TALK OF PRISON REFORM SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE ELECTION CAMPAIGN WHEN EVERYONE JUMPED ON THE BANDWAGON SAYING THEY WOULD BE THE ONE TO FIX IT. NOW NOTHING IS BEING SAID. IT WILL BE THE PEOPLE DEMANDING CHANGE THAT HAS THE ONLY CHANCE OF CHANGING THIS. PLEASE POST THIS ON YOUR OWN SM AND ASK YOUR FRIENDS TO SHARE IT, TOO. WE’VE SEEN WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE COME TOGETHER AS THE AMERICAN INDIANS HAVE DONE. WE NEED TO MAKE PRISON REFORM IMPORTANT, NOT JUST TALK ABOUT IT. CAN WE DO THAT?
This piece was written for the book I’m writing of the same title. It is the longing of being on the inside looking out. You can find first draft copies of some of the chapters written in the blog post written before this. I would honestly like your opinion of what has been written.
Inside The Forbidden Outside by Sonni Quick copyright 2016
INSIDE THE FORBIDDEN OUTSIDE
Inside the forbidden outside Looking out through only one side Never feel the sun through the other side Never feel it on my skin I want to feel the breeze of the wind Feel the grass beneath my feet See the sunset when the light meets the earth and sinks beneath
Inside the forbidden outside Where nothing is for real I have to close my eyes and think To remember how life feels I’ll never take for granted That things, like rain, are free I’ll never lose another day When freedom comes to me
Outside looking inside Looking through the other side Never see the world through my eyes Never live your life like me Don’t take your life for granted Don’t take the chance to lose The touch of grass beneath your feet or the freedom . . .to choose