Caroline Peoples

Depraved (Part 7), by Caroline Peoples

Through the picture I see reality. Through the word I understand it.

As I sit conquering time
My Mind
Defies this rhyme
My eyes recognize
The signs
An where the lines
Blur
From where you are
To where you were
The curse
The souls that stir
Of painful memories
Like disease
That eats away
And leaves decay
Of the confined
The solutions
Worse than the questions
Unlearned lessons
And untaught values
No clues
No who done it
Vomit
Is what will rise
When your eyes
Finally
Focus

Back to this life of mine….
I just returned to my dormitory from my prison job that I work for absolutely no pay. See it’s a completely different world here In prison. I get buzzed through the main door, then the main gate, then the quad door and walk past various characters on up the stairs to my cell. The door is already locked open so I don’t have to wait to enter it and use my toilet that sits directly next to my bed. I don’t have a bunkie (cellmate) because the last one went to confinement under investigation. Here in prison they can put you under Investigation for almost anything and if you piss one of these inmates off they will gladly drop a request form full of lies to administration and you will be immediately placed in confinement under investigation. I’ve done a lot of time in confinement/ segregation since July 1, 2004 when I was arrested and locked away but never under investigation. I run to the hot water pipe that is connected to the water fountain to make this cup of coffee given to me by my prison family in here. I rarely get money so God sends me help. I used to hustle in prison selling cigarettes, drawing portraits, and doing tattoo’s which made good money but is so much more trouble than it’s worth. I now trust in God to take care of me like he does the birds in the air who never worry about such things and spend my time encouraging the masses, encouraging myself, and serving God. It takes an unreasonable amount of humbleness to live a positive life in prison but I’m from Chicago and survive is what we do best. Nothing easily attained is worth much so this cross that I bear is leading me to a great reward. It’s not exactly redemption I’m searching for, I’d just like to be remembered for more than pulling the trigger, feel me? I will be 42 years old this year and I feel that I don’t have much time to leave a positive mark in my part of the world. I have come a long way yet I have a long way to go on this road. I see no end and maybe there isn’t one and that makes me smile. I look out of this cell window at the sky wondering if my kids are looking up at the sky too (fleeting thoughts). I don’t hear much from my blood relatves because they don’t really know me so the wedge is so big that now it has become difficult to see around. I understand though. How could a dysfunctional home function enough to handle having a major part of it gone away with no money no understanding of what you did because most don’t know anyone who kills people. It’s a very evil act and most reasonable people stay away from evil. Yet there are families out there whose love covers sin and loves light conquers darkness. I see it in here because those are the names you hear at mail call and for visitation. It keeps a dull pain in your chest when you rarely hear your name but if you are strong you bear it. You pray for your family’s safety for their lives to be protected by the hand of God and He gives you the sense of making a difference in your family. In prison you hold on to what you can and for the woman I used to be I accept all of my punishment. Oppression has a funny way of making someone see the king and queen within themselves. If you keep beating someone down they will eventually stop feeling that they are worthless and that they deserve abuse. They will start wondering why does my oppressor never tire of beating me down. What is it that they wish to destroy out of me , to beat out of me, punish out of me, break out of me. It’s amazing how the one who will inflict you with pain will be the same one to draw attention to your good. Maybe they attack criminal minds the way chemotherapy attacks cancer destroying the good right along with the bad in hopes that it will be cured. I understand the method yet human beings are not diseases to be eradicated. We are damaged people who actually need to be repaired, refurbished, patched up, remastered. Even though we wouldn’t look new we would be better. See these prisons go on and on about rehabilitation yet they miss the opportunity to see real change because the system is counter productive. For every rule that promotes growth there’s a restriction hat prevents someone like myself from having access to what will change me. If you fell and scraped your knee badly in he mud would’nt you clean the wound so you can properly heal? You get it now? With all of the criminogenic mumbo jumbo this place spews out this lowly murderer has probably helped to rehabilitate more women than the staff. Not because the staff are not trying because these correctional officers love doing their jobs. (it is something to be said in that) but it’s because if the staff follows the rules and code plus the way they are trained to see offenders, inmates, convicts trained to treat you inhumane, to look at you like you are pure evil, bad, untrustworthy, liars, manipulators, how can you help us to grow, change, or rehabilitate. It’s Impossible. So we do this time day after day after day. I watch he way that some of these women are . I watch how this time has diminished their minds, bodies, souls. How so many are broken from being down (incarcerated) too long. It’s like watching someone with Alzheimer’s slipping away except these are not Alzheimer’s patient’s these are women too young to have Alzheimer’s, dementia, or any of that.
To be continued.,…..
Bleed with you tomorrow world.

Caroline Peoples
DOC #163969

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