Poetry Slam Volume 3: Unreachable Love

Hotep,

This next poet is no stranger to W2TM or BTWF.  As a barber, he does an impeccable job of keeping my image tight.  

As a writer, he's in a class all by himself.  Blogosphere, welcome to Bucktown.

Your MannofStat

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Two and a half months ago, an experimental reading and writing workshop was offered to us here on death row.  It is appropriately called "writing from captivity." Initially I was reluctant to participate; especially considering the workshop is being supervised by the manager of the prison's psychological program.  No way was I going to give the prison administration a 'free' opportunity to psychoanalyze me.

That could work against me considering I'm in the midst of my appeals and anything I say or do can be used against me.  But then I thought about it and considered the possibility of the workshop being of some benefit to me.  After all, I do consider myself a writer and I'm always working on improving my writing skills.

Well, I signed up for the workshop and I'm glad I did.  It is one of the most enlightening experiences I have ever had.  "Writing from captivity" is about more than just writings from people who are incarcerated, its about expressing thoughts and emotions that are held captive inside of us.  

You see, being incarcerated, our opportunities to tell people what we think and how we feel are limited - relegated even, to being written down.  It is said that words are power.  Well, being in such a powerless situation as incarceration, writing gives us the best power of expression available.  Otherwise, we would not be heard.

This workshop has helped me see this better.  So I repeat, it is one of my most enlightening experiences.  I say this for several reasons, but for the sake of brevity I'll only give two.  The first is the book "Man's Search for Meaning," by Victor Frankl.  Its an autobiographical account of his experience in the Nazi concentration camps of World War II - not so much how he survived it, which was miraculous, but rather how he endured it.  

The second reason is the heavy focus on poetry.  My understanding of poetry is, it is simply an artful way of expressing one's emotions and/or thoughts. Even more, it draws out the true individual, the part of them that is rarely seen.

Thoughts run rampant in a place like this and writing is a therapeutic process that we all employ consciously or not.  As one who does so consciously, I'm glad the workshop is being given.  It has inspired me and increased my passion for writing.  Literally "writing from captivity." This doesn't have to be a bane.  It can be a golden opportunity to reach out beyond captivity.

Bucktown.

Unreachable Love

For the life of me I can't seem to crack the code

Find the key to your heart even more mines won't let go 

of thoughts of you despite your aloofness

The signs that my efforts to connect with you are useless

What are you, a voodoo priestess? 

Who has cast a spell on me with your essential sweetness

My heart is a prisoner of your memory

Longing for just a glimpse of your energy

A synergistic connection

A semblance of your affection

A moment to bask in the glow of your enchanting eyes

A distant vision of your hypnotic stride

To have the melody of your voice caress my ears

It would be sublime to hold you near

Ahhh hopes and dreams they seldom come true

But despite my knowledge of this I can stop thinking of you

Bucktown

Copyright (c) 2013 by Rodney Taylor

Poetry Slam Volume 2: Cemetery in the Flesh

Hotep,

You never know what’s on a man’s mind.  Oft times, public perception can contribute to the malfunction of what it means to “Man up.” For me, “Man up” can best be defined as facing your fears and acknowledging your flaws.  Poetry can be the antidote.  The writers of the row reached a growth spurt on 9/25/2013.  Our poetry slam was undeniably, “Slammin!” Ya heard?

Big Bank is the consummate “Glue-guy” of the row.  He wears the hats of spiritual adviser, civics analyst, lyricist and death row b-ball referee.  And let me say; he’s well spoken in all of the above.  Word is bond!!

I instinctively selected Big Bank to follow-up my recital of “Where Would I Be,” because there’s fire in his pen.  I had no doubts that he’d keep the poetic momentum going.  As a first time guest, on this W2TM platform, I ask that you push public perception aside and feel the truth as it was felt during our poetry slam.  Aight?

From this moment, you’re now in the space of the man the row knows as Big Bank.  The stage is yours, Dunn.

Always 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

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Cemetery in the Flesh

They say a coward dies a million times

Well I guess I’ve died a million one

You see, every time my spirit dies from fear

It’s just like killing one

Scared of what other people might think

Being afraid they might laugh or berate

Made me hide the truth inside

Wanting to be something I can’t

Trying to be things that I ain’t

Living lies ashamed of my fate

So every time my spirit would rise

I’d kill it cause it was me that I hate

But this is murder nonetheless

Now I’m a Cemetery in the Flesh…

Big Bank

Copyright © 2013 by Michael Braxton

Poetry Slam Volume 1

Hotep,

This creative writing class gets better every week.  Today’s (9/25/2013) session was simply off the charts.  Mr. Joyner (Warden), Mr. Vaughn (Deputy Warden), and Mr. Doering (C.E.O. of Prison Medical Health Care) joined the many guests in attendance for today’s class.  Real talk.

As you should already know, this creative writing class is kind of a big deal.  Well, today’s Poetry Slam took a big deal and made it a mega historical event.  BTW, in case you’re unaware of what a poetry slam may be, your MannofStat will be more than rapturous to indulge your interest.  Here’s how we flow on the row:

After weeks of exploring our literary skills, Dr. Kuhns along with his colleague, Ms. Lee – decided to put our skills to the test.  We were told a week in advance that we would be expected to have and recite a poem created by no other than the individual reciting it.  I gotta tell you blogosphere; sharing my work has never been a problem for me, but reciting it hasn’t been a part of my growth as a writer.  That is up until today.  Na mean?

Descending the stairwell on my way to class, I had no idea that the classroom would be filled to capacity.  The mood was set by the sounds of a bangin jazz CD, and Dr. Kuhns coordinating introductions between staff and prisoners.  Once I broke the threshold, I instinctively went into my zone.  It was much like a hungry MC stepping into the booth for the first time; but different.  I could feel my Grown Mann exuding decisiveness – giving me a level of confidence to aid me in stepping out of the madness and into unflappability.  I was ready to be heard.  Feel me?

Once the volume of the mesmerizing jazz CD was lowered, Dr. Kuhns asked, “Who’d like to be brave enough to go first?” He didn’t even get to scan the room before my hand went into the air.  “I’ll go.” Before I knew it, my entire being was consumed in a tribute to my Moms (Where Would I Be - http://word2themasses.blogspot.com/2013/05/where-would-i-be.html).  I introduced this poem by stating that it was a tribute to the first woman I’d ever loved.  The word “be” is used in this poem as recognition to my Moms moniker, “Stingin B.” Something I was able to bring to life in my recital.

I could barely hear my voice.  The stillness within the room was tranquilizing.  The facial expressions of the audience fed my literary confidence.  And the intoxicating applause was nothing but the truth in the wind; it was everywhere.  Word is bond.

After I took my seat, Dr. Kuhns granted me the privilege of selecting the next poet.  Without a second thought, I chose, Big Bank.  His expression, “Cemetery In the Flesh” will be featured in Volume 2 of this Poetry Slam series.  My barber/fellow lyricist, Bucktown, will be featured in Volume 3.  He’ll display his poetic prowess (Unreadable Love), as well as engaging you with his perspective on our creative writing class.

So, for the next week, just sit back and enjoy the poetic light show, coming from the row.  The warden certainly did.  Ya heard?

Stay Up,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2013 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Four Years and Counting

March 14^th marked the fourth anniversary of Word to the Masses.  Four years ago Leroy Mann began sharing his voice with the blogosphere in an effort to shed light on life in the basement of North Carolina.  In that time, Word to the Masses has been viewed in 50 countries.  Congratulations Lump!!

Periodically, Leroy has shared his platform with other residents of North Carolina’s Death Row.  He has encouraged other prisoners to document their expressions and share them with the blogosphere, in an effort to expose the world to the humanity that resides on death row.

This year Leroy will continue his efforts to expose the blogosphere to other voices in the basement of North Carolina through, ‘Voices from the row.’ Voices from the row will be the avenue by which Leroy will share the expression of a fellow prisoner.  Once a month Leroy will share an expression that he found interesting or that moved him in some way.  Some of the writers may have already posted on W2TM and others have not, but I’m sure you will enjoy the expressions shared.

Help me congratulate Leroy on another year well done.  This truly is a labor of love that gets better and better each year.  Four years and counting.  Stay tuned!

Change of Address

Hotep,

Can you imagine what life would be like without the freedom to express your opinion?  I mean, without the least amount of effort, a person is able to form an opinion on just about any topic.

E.g. I think stability should be prevalent in the rearing of a child; simply my opinion, right?  Now, here are the facts: Job cuts, school closings, or even worse, the death of a legal guardian can happen at the blink of an eye.  If stability is relinquished, does that mean the child is bound to fail?  Not at all.

The will to survive goes beyond human understanding.  In the most dire of circumstances the weak become strong.  The blind see all and the mute find a voice.  To be uprooted, moved away or taken from the familiar surroundings and the loved ones within it, is not without anguish.  But it is the evolution of a survivor.

1300 Western Boulevard had been my address from 1997 to 2013.  I’m currently serving my 17^th year of bondage at Central Prison.  For some reason or another, the address was recently changed.  From the outside looking in, I’ve changed addresses without going anywhere.  I’m stuck in the same place, right?

Well, for those of you who may not know, my lifestyle address changed four years ago.  My way of life residency has been http://www.word2themasses.blogspot.com since March 2010.  The stability of this platform has nurtured my evolution as a writer and a Mann of focus.  Which in turn, makes me a survivor.  Feel me?

The W2TM movement has been my ‘deluxe apartment in the sky.’ From this view, I can see the world as it is, and not how I perceive it to be.  The concrete box continues to be my reality, but the familiar surroundings of this blogosphere have molded me into a person who can accept another’s opinion as just that, simply an opinion.

Now, here’s a fact that’s longing for your opinion: Bradley Cooper (no, not the actor from Silver Linings Playbook fame) is the accused murderer – tried and convicted of killing his wife, less than four years ago.  He and I currently share the same address.  We both faced Wake County superior court judges and prosecutors during our trials. 

I wear a red jumpsuit and he wears brown khakis.  Bradley Cooper was recently awarded a new trial.  My case has been in abeyance since 2004.  He’s currently awaiting a bond hearing.  His address could very well change before the year is out.  Does this mean I’m bound to fail?  Or am I still a survivor?

100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Stepping to the Fountain

Hotep,

The influential fictional life of Ms. Jane Pittman was a journey of bondage – momentarily tranquilized by love – only to be shocked back into the realism of the murderous rage polluting the Deep South.  

The pain and strife of the bloodshed flooding her path, evolved into a Nile, by which her moxy sailed through the course of time – leaving the dust of racism to dissipate in the wake of a historical sip of opportunity.  Feel me?

This blueprint of trailblazing came to mind yesterday (2/4/2014), when I was introduced to two ladies who operate a non-profit organization capable of spilling truth onto the dirty lies that have buried so many.  For about an hour, we spoke at length about various topics:

Positive role models, social roles and educating potential jurors of the inevitable cultural differences between themselves and the defendant.  Death penalty qualifying a juror shouldn’t be the extent of the jury voir dire process.  Na mean?

The outcome of this meeting has yet to be settled, but I do look forward to our next forum.  There was a positive vibe in the air; a vibe that allowed me to see that my years of diligence are far from void.  This vibe is a milestone that was believed to be unreachable, but will soon be understood to be attainable.

Much like in the story of Ms. Jane Pittman, tragedy and disappointment invaded my time zone, to the degree of wondering why I’d continue to awake day-after-day.  And now, to have an opportunity to go even further with this diligence of a Mann that understands where life begins, as well as where it ends; is worthy of shedding a jewel or two – bare from my soul.

That ‘Whites Only’ water fountain was an opportunity for Ms. Jane Pittman to bear her tragedy and disappointment to the eyes of the unborn.  Mr. Gaines’ fictional drama’s legacy will be a teaching tool until the end of time.  Word is bond! (Ernest J. Gaines wrote ‘The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman.’

Being a follower has never been attached to my brand, but I am stepping to that fountain of opportunity.  Not to take a sip, or even make a splash, I’m submerging myself to a dimension of redirection.  Delving deeper into social interactions beyond this wall.

The great Madiba once said: “Indeed, the chains of the body are often wings to the spirit.  It has been so all along, and so it will always be.”

The fire flowing through my pen is an internal burn incapable of being quenched.  Ironically, the flowing fountain of opportunity compels it to burn at a much higher degree.  R.I.P. Nelson ‘Madiba’

Mandela.

Peace and Love,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2014 by Leroy Elwood Mann