A Poem About Prison...and Some of My Thoughts on the Arts

I've never been to prison, but I do have a class called Corrections. We've been watching a lot of videos about life in various prisons. A recurring theme in the videos is poetry written by inmates. The professor for this class gave us an assignment to write a poem about prison. I tried to think of feeling trapped and then applied what I've heard and read about the life of a prisoner. I just did a simple AA BB etc. rhyming scheme. There were some really good poems in the class, and I'm not really big on poetry. I like to write songs, but somehow, though it is the same thing as poetry, I don't like poetry. I think the reason why is that sometimes people pass things off as poetry, and I don't understand what in the world they are talking about. Personally, I like poetry (and songs) that make sense. They need to tell a story or convey strong emotion. That's the type of song I like, so I suppose that's also the poetry I like. I never understood the type of art that is just spilled paint either. I like to think of myself as more of a realist than a polarized optimist or pessimist; I guess the realism carries over into my art appreciation, be it written, painted or sculpted. In the cases of abstract art I still can appreciate the skill and time put into the creation by the artist, it just doesn't make my toes tingle in the same way "You Won't Know" by Brand New does. OK, go listen to that song and come back and say "what are you talking about? all he does is scream in that song?!" Like I said, emotion, that's what I'm looking for, and Brand New gets my emotion up. Maybe the whole idea of one person critiquing another person's work is slightly ridiculous because we all have such varied experience and perception. I suppose that is true, so who cares what I think about poetry? Not me. I tried to write a sonnet one time after hearing a podcast about writing sonnets. I thought, It can't be that hard, as hard as they are saying it is, to write a sonnet. So I wrote one, although I don't think I got the rhythm of it exactly correct. It was good enough for me though. I will post it when I find it on my computer, or retype it later. I shouldn't hate on poetry, it really is the same as writing song lyrics. Poems have their own type of accompaniment and rhythm, built in, whereas my songs are accompanied by a guitar. What was the purpose of this post? Right, prison poem, so here it is, my homework assignment to write a poem about being in prison:

Incarceration, my faults were made known
My weakness and folly I now have to own
When so many others live life without care
I’ve trapped myself and it just doesn’t seem fair

I have so much time to sit and to think
Wondering what could’ve been, it all makes me shrink
I can’t face my family, I can’t face my friends
I can’t face myself the shame never ends

If only I wouldn’t have made that one choice
If only there had been a kind, loving voice
If I had someone to tell me “just leave it alone”
This sorrow and pain would have never been known

Locked in a box, 20 years I will spend
Is this really the best way to make amends?
Taken from society and the victims I’ve made
Couldn’t I do more if I could serve them day to day?

I understand they fear me and I’ve become a label
But if they’d just listen to me they’d know that I’m stable
Am I the only one who has ever made mistakes?
Or am I only the one who got caught for Heaven’s Sake!?

For 20 years I’ll sit locked away from the world
I’ll think on what I’ve done, lying crying and curled
My sorrow goes unheeded and everything is so cold
Soon I’ll start resenting them and I’ll become bold

I won’t listen to them as they don’t listen you see?
Is prisonization what’s really best for me?
Someday I’ll get out and be back on the street
I’ll have nowhere to go and nothing to eat

The stigma keeps me from getting a job
But my “pals” back in the prison taught me to rob
It won’t take me too long to be arrested again
For some this or that, it’s all the same in the end

I’ll be back in the cell, back to serving up time
But this time I won’t be sorry for the crime
What started as a mistake by a misguided youth
Developed into a process of distorting the truth

Life inside the prison, counterfeit society,
Makes the world a safer place, but for you, not for me