I told them we shouldn't have ventured inland. we should've just listened. I should have just listened. and let them go off on their own. they were always going to do it anyway, my hanging around trying to prevent it wasn't going to stop anything. why would it? I was the nice guy. and I knew better; it’s just that I wanted her to look at me the way she looked at him..so like an asshole I went along with it and now here we were, the three of us crouched behind this old rusted car with a hollowed rear wheel well trying to slow our breath to in inaudible pace. with mud caching our shoes and sweat stinging our eyes and mosquitoes piercing our skins. on top of that I had the tailpipe digging into the back of my neck, but I was too afraid to adjust. you could hear their voices off in the distance and you didn't have to know the words they spoke to understand their meaning. even some of their own people were scared. tripping and falling as they scurried to hide themselves from the 'diablo.'

hopefully that the malaria made quick work of us, better that than the alternative. the pop pop of their shots filled the air with laughter acting as a chaser. their guffaws even more threatening than their thundering weapons. the scrape of metal came next. I didn't look but I visualized an old machete encrusted with dried blood dragging along the side of another diserviced vehicle. they were getting closer. my heart felt like it was going to explode. and I was getting lightheaded. fuck..fuck. I had to do something. fast. I could hear their footfall squishing in the mud..fuck..shit shit shit. think. didn't they know we were Americans? think. think. this had to be Trump’s fault. there was wild brush just off to my left. I just needed a distraction. I looked to my right. at Nicole hiding her face in the pit of Kyle's shirt. his arm wrapped tightly around her sunburned shoulders. kissing at her scalp..before I could stop myself I pushed at them as hard as I could. pushed them from behind our hiding place and out into the muddied dirt road. the shriek of their surprise added to the cacophony of wildlife as I made a mad dash toward the bushes. only looking back in time to see Kyle's head jerk back, bursting like a spoiled fruit, speckling Nicole’s blonde hair with its pulpy seeds. the sound of the shot followed shortly. the last thing I heard was Nicole’s fading screams over the jackrabbit speech of the men’s native tongue as I ducked further into the trees.

​

​We are the land with no culture where materialism rules
Where the tweeter of the free world diddles his thumbs mocking us
Voters queuing in line for the next big phone
We are a mockery on the world’s stage
When the curtains are drawn
We’re the actor that forgets his lines when its time

Our borders unite but we are a country divided
Liberals in line A-M, conservatives in line N-Z
All in line for the same show
There’s nothing more divisive than beliefs

A cop, a black and an illegal walk into a bar
But only the cop walks out. The shot the illegal when he caught her trying to rape the black…bullet must
have caught him too
But not to worry, it’s all on camera so the cop will be acquitted, he needed a vacation anyway

A judge imposed a sentence imprisoning a small time dope dealer, an embarrassment to the
community.
He hung up his robe, then left work for the day
But didn’t go straight home. He needed to unwind before facing the wife and three kids. So instead he
met his friend at a remote motel where they took turns doing blow out of the crack of an escort’s ass.
When they were done, the prosecutor went one day, the judge went the other
The hooker’d still have court on Monday

No matter how you might emphasize, you still only see the world through your own eyes.
That’s why they stay clear when others might cry.
Or maybe it’s just because nothing is real to you anymore
You might be all dialed in, but you’re disconnected, all the same

Life doesn’t exist if not shining up at you from behind a LED lit screen
Why cry when you can swipe another’s pains so easily to the left

We live in the world of now. Grandma called it impatience
But whatever, it’s better this way
Everything you could want is at the tip of your finger
Lust, love and other intoxicating drugs, plus everything’s delivered. Then if you don’t like it just give it a
bad review on Yelp.
Work ethics, courtesy and virtues are for old people
Who wouldn’t want to live here and now?
Where a man could wear a dress and become woman of the year?
Where everyday hard working women were made to feel less without a fake ass or fake titties
Fake nails or fake hair?

Tell me…how is that fair?

​Mr. Caged Bird,
Why do you sing? Perched so very proudly on that lone pine swing.
Taking in the world through that thin slatted metal, hoping your next meal will arrive on schedule.
You never seem to mind that old newspaper flooring, the same headlines screaming the same old stories. Be sprinkled with your droppings you care not how deploring, you chirp the same song through the night into morning.
Stupid little bird.
Don’t you ever shut up? Singing and singing and singing, I mean, really, what the fuck?
Don’t you know you’re in jail?
How are you so jolly?
When’s the last time that you got some polly?
Not that it’s important, but understand what I mean? Three hots and a cot? Was that really your dream?
Are you really satisfied with living in that cage? A winged groundhog reliving the same day?
Come on little bird, you’ve got to wake up.
That man with the keys doesn’t give a motherfuck.
The system is a business designed to make you comfortable; ensuring all your needs are met, you don’t even have to work for them.
Then before you know it you’ve grown complacent and then dependent and when they let you out you’ll neglect your life’s commitments.
There’s no recidivism when there’s rehabilitation.
Keep that in mind during your next visitation.
Little boys and girls with three hour fathers
And it’s normal to them, does that not make you bothered?
You’ve got to want ore, for you and for yours
Unlock the potential hidden behind your mind’s doors
Don’t allow that cage to dictate who you can and cannot be,
Life is what you make it, even on plan C.
When it’s all said and done, thank of what you’ll leave behind
Don’t be the little bird that never learned to fly.

​Disability, be it manifested physically or mentally is only deemed as such by those who are considered to be normal, healthy, or sane or competent. Disability only plagues those who are uncomfortable by the stark or otherwise blatant differences between those labeled with the term of disabled, and those who are not. For the actual person behind those disabled eyes can often feel the very same emotions as the next “normal” person. He or she holds the same capacity to smile, to laugh.  The same capacity to hurt or to cry. If one does not take the time to consider this, as is the general societal norm, the disabled become outcasts. Enter the judicial system. Here we all sit, garbed in blue, penning our intellectual, insightful thoughts down on paper, not a one of us I feel is disabled. However since we do happen to be garbed in blue, sitting on the other side of these razor wire fences, in the inferior position of inmate. Once we leave this place, we will undoubtedly be stigmatized as disabled. By society, strangers we will encounter in passing and will never meet, even amongst loved ones or those you’ve once held dear. Looked at, considered, but then passed over for job positions like bruised tomatoes in the produce section of the supermarket, set against those who are clean. Because of the stark reality of our records now as much a part of us as our shadows. No longer normal, but disabled.