Introduction

First of all, I would like to send my love to both the struggling children and adults of America for allowing me at least one more trip through your minds by you picking up this booklet of many blessings and deciding to read my story.

It’s always a blessing to know that there are open ears out there not to only hear me out, but each other, and always ready to come to the aid of one of our brothers and sisters when there’s a need to. That’s what The Beat is all about. The struggling citizens of America’s hearts forever beat for each other and understand the struggle of our brethren who are fighting the same war as us. That’s to be physically, mentally, and spiritually free. May we all one day collaborate and come together and rise from all this hurt and pain, from all this stress and torture, from all this violence and evil to a godly world where the air we breathe is pronounced “love.” Remember, “The world is what you make of it.”

I just finished reading Beat volume 8.49 and I was impressed by the eye-catching topic “Life In My Cell” that was utilized in that issue. This is also a topic I feel is meant for anyone serving time behind the bars we know as prison. Therefore, if it’s all right with you ladies and gentlemen, I thought I’d put my two cents in this foundation of pain. Hear me out!


Life In My Cell

Doing life in my cell is like being trapped in an oversized casket where the pain and the suffering are the bugs eating at my flesh, sending a shiver through my bones with just the terrifying thought of the predicament I’m in. It’s like I’m suffocating in this place and I’m in desperate need for that life-saving air we know as freedom. I guess that’s the six feet filled with dirt that’s stacked on top of me, keeping me forever in the dark while my loved ones grieve from my absence. Within everyday, it’s like I’m losing another part of my mind in this place and it’s nothing I can do about it. I’m just as helpless as a dead man daily being eaten by bugs that all goes by the name of death. I guess it’s destiny’s calling and the only way possible for me to escape such a predicament is by being dug up and freed from this cell-like casket with the hopes of God’s spiritual healing, curing these bruises that are planted as deep as my soul.

Will I rise in my 7th year like Jesus rose on his 7th day and come to shock the world with these teachings I refer to as blessings? Will God put his hands of divine guidance on my back and choose me with all this pain and suffering I hold inside, to deliver a heartfelt message to the world that will all spiritually, mentally, and physically change us forever? Will God ever allow me to step out of this cell not a half-dead man, but a freed man with the knowledge to turn this globe in the direction I see fit? I guess this is my biggest fear, the thought of me never being heard, the thought of these inner cries for change forever being silent, the thought of me returning to this cell-like casket with a life-saving vision that unfortunately would never have the chance to be manifested. Lord, please do not let this be my destiny.

When the judge told me that I was being sentenced to the state penitentiary for the sins I’ve committed, it was like I was being buried alive and all that I could think about was all the people and things I was going to miss, and above all, the torturing cell I was to return to.

All the hopes I had of getting out was suddenly diminished and the reality of “I was going to be here for awhile” slowly started to move in. I was shocked as if I had a bad encounter with electricity and that all I wanted to do was go to sleep to escape reality as if it was a bad nightmare in my dreams. It was like my not so innocent life was being taken away from me as simple as that, and I all of a sudden went from the suspect to the victim. What hurt even more was the thought of there wasn’t a soul in the world that could help me. Justice had arrived and all my vicious days of running was over. I felt my heart drop to my stomach the minute she said, “ I sentence you to the duration of eight years,” and even though I’d agreed to the terms a couple days before, it just didn’t seem believable until it came out of her mouth. I felt like a dead man walking, no longer in control of my life, and that’s when I came to the realization of how much freedom means to me. That’s when I came to the realization that life isn’t a game like we call it, but something special like no other. Life is as serious as me sitting right here in this cell for at least the next seven years envisioning life.

Let me welcome you to this little city that goes by the name “Hell on Earth” where everybody got at least one thing in common: we’re all seeking freedom. The flipside about this place, ladies and gentlemen, is your outside inferiors (freedom) can all of a sudden become your inside superiors, (incarceration). “E-Money, you kind of lost me. Can you further elaborate?” Let me serve it to you raw and uncut. Those who you thought you were better than on the streets, such as your school nerd or your neighborhood square, may be that same nerd or square dressed up in a green suit that says “CO” (Correctional Officer), and is here to correct your troubled mistakes with excessive correcting, or let’s just say “bully-style,” even when there’s no mistake to be corrected. No need to get all mad and emotional because your sensitive feelings is a sign of weakness in this place, and they will be exploited.

Should I proceed? So-called dope dealer, you remember that dope addict that was drooling for another one of your lucky charms, or should I say “crack cocaine”? Guess what? This same dope addict comes behind these walls of prison and due to this is a regular home to him, he may be given the privilege to be your penitentiary “shot-caller,” or let’s just say your “convicted commander.” What he says will go, and what goes, you will do. Catch yourself not doing and get did. Sorry to say, but behind these walls the strong prey on the weak, and even though it may have been your intentions to do a perfect program and get released as soon as possible, the last thing you want to be labeled as is “weak.” Therefore, you got to keep your head high and stay strong within this place even if it cost you your life. That’s just the price you got to pay physically or mentally, and emotionally pay an ever higher price for a lifetime. I know it doesn’t sound fair, or as you may put it, “just,” but let me ask you a question: is life fair? You ask me what’s life in my cell, and I’ll tell you, “Forever struggling and fighting against the evil forces of pain.” Can you yet feel my pain or should I elaborate?

I don’t think you heard me. I’m a star in the dark seeking for light. I’ve been stuck out here in this galaxy-like cell with just me, myself, and I. Do it get lonely? You damn right it gets lonely. I’m that little kid in the playground playing by himself wishing upon a friend. My old friends say, “I’m too rough,” and plus I’m no longer equal because I’m a convict -- so tell me, is this what you really want? Do you want to be stereotyped for a lifetime for an unwise decision you’ve made ten years ago? Do note: these are my pains, conceived from my desires of wanting to be a thug. Do you still want to be a thug, my little friend?

In summation, life in my cell is being under a constant stress and forever visualizing a freedom that is not guaranteed. It’s forever thinking about those I love and wishing I can be there with them. It’s watching holiday after holiday pass by, birthday after birthday pass by, and sunny day after sunny day pass by. It’s watching loved one after loved one pass on and not being able to attend their funerals. Some people may tell you, “You’re not missing out on nothing” as words of comfort, but to keep it real with you, if missing out on life isn’t missing out on nothing, I guess you’re already dead.

Life in this cell is hell. It’s like experiencing what it feels like to talk to the devil. Even though it could be peaceful at times, it also can drive one crazy. It’s forever burning inside, wishing upon a key to come free you out. It’s something like death, but associated with life. May the Lord have mercy on your soul.