Category: The Beat Without

by Michael Russell I open this letter and greet you with honor and respect. I’m addressing you as child because I want you to know and understand that you’re not yet an adult even if you feel that you are. Your childhood and teenaged years are a special time, and you should enjoy it and not waste it doing things that are counterproductive. See I was you once. By the time I was thirteen years old I was sexually active, a drug-dealer, a car thief and out on my own. I swore I knew it all and I had an

by Alvin “JRoc” Richardson In the abyss of Californians vast prison complex, I find myself lost and unaware of the things that matter to small minds captivated by institutionalization. At one point I thought I belonged amongst these small minds, so I did as drones do, follow blindly! But now on my 18th year (in prison), I no longer fit the bill, because my thinking has evolved and my knowledge has elevated. I feel awkward and out of place, based upon my personal growth, not anyone else’s lack thereof. Nothing even feels the same, as I go on with the monotonous

by Rahsaan Thomas  “Ain’t nothing to talk about,” was the motto I grew up believing in.  I didn’t think there was anything to talk about when someone had wronged me.  Talking to someone who offended you was viewed as a sign of weakness.  Discussing peace at that point meant they would get the last laugh.  So I thought like the rapper Papoose said, “Peace makers sound funny like Heathcliff with that dead the beef (crap), why would I dead the beef when I can dead the (negro) I have the beef with.” At the same time, I never wanted to hurt

by Mr. Daniels Finding balance in all that we do, will keep you from much of this unnecessary stress, heartache and frustration that is out there in the world. As we travel on our journey to acquire the finest things very rarely do we properly prepare a plan for the end game. We rush into plan “A” without even taking notice of plans B – Z (B through Z). We let our image, ego and the fantasy in our heads constantly run us head first, into the brickwall of life called reality. Why is it that our most happiest of times

by Miguel Quezada As a kid, I failed in many little things. Basketball, because I had no coordination. Or when I tried to ride my bicycle over a motorcycle ramp and fell and broke my wrist. Or when in the seventh grade I asked Destiny to be my girlfriend, but she said, “Nooooo!” When I was young, I didn’t believe I was my failures. All they amounted to were failures. They didn’t get in my way. I kept falling, but picking myself up and trying and trying and trying. As I grew up, I seemed to fail a lot more. It

by Dortell Williams “If you want anything done, you’ve got to do it yourself,” goes the refrain. That includes that ever elusive thing they call rehabilitation: self-help and personal development The truth is that within the confines of our misnomer, The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation, rehabilitation can be a difficult thing to tackle. Lack of class space, lack of vocations and lack of structure for personal growth. I recall asking a mental health specialist a few years back what “rehabilitation” is: What am I chasing here? Were my exact words. His response? He laughed, heartily. He told me: “There

by Fausto Minor Since my incarceration my life has changed dramatically.  The change came when I realized that I can do something constructive with my time in prison.  This realization came to me while I was serving a twenty-six month SHU term.  That is when I decided that I no longer wanted to be a prisoner of my own vice, so I started to study all sorts of subjects that would stimulate my mind.  I began to see the positive aspects of being in prison.  Once I realized that prison can be a positive experience for me, is when I knew

by Clarence Reese My life has known sunshine, has known rain. A life of little joy linked to an abundance of pain, Washed in a bird bath of tears I have caused to be shed, Who blew out the spark leaving no light up ahead? Roaming, cold, sweaty, walls of ink dripping tattoos and raw scars, Why do memories fade into dreams lost upon waking up behind bars? Near the shadow whose figure leans tilt, it has slip Sways handicap, without a mast, my life, a handicap ship Drifting in a sea of waves far from home, far from port,

by Cody Ladd My name is Cody Ladd, and I’m an inmate incarcerated in a California State Prison. Born and raised in Humboldt County. A fellow friend/inmate told me about The Beat Within.” I’ve read and highly enjoyed it, and would love to be a subscriber, please. I love to read, writer and draw, so I am most interested and can truly relate and connect to The Beat Within. Please do let me explain: I love how the Beat supports the youth, and those who are incarcerated, locked away in jail or any other facility, state- or nationwide. I can

by Shawn D. I’ve moved all around to different places, I’ve even slept in a few parking spaces, Never enough money.  I’m always poor, The music I listen to talks blood and gore, Insane Clown Posse is what I hear Suicide (hotline) is the way I’m ready to steer, Losing my mom is what I fear, I was born in Kansas but I’m Mesa raised, My life goes many different ways, I sometimes think of it as a never ending maze, Had a few “friends” that dropped dimes, Wound up in court, then on probation, I was twelve when I first