Shredder the Bed-Wetter

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I’ve come across stories I’ve written when I was eight years old. I remember getting sent to the principals office when I was nine for a story I wrote.

The Ninja Turtles had come out and were all over the place. Being young and not quite bound with the restraints of copyright law I appreciated their nemesis Shredder.

My story was more comic than the action and I changed  his name slightly to Shredder the Bed-Wetter. Okay, its not Monty Python or Mel Brooks but to a room full of nine year olds it was high comedy let me tell you.

Well, my teacher thought it was an outrage. I remeber her grabbing me by the upper arm and marching me to the principals office. They both stood there glaring at me ( I was crying again) while the principal read the story over the phone to my mother.

I’m not sure what her reaction was, but I don’t remember getting in trouble with her for that one.  I do remember  sitting in the corner with my back to the front of the class for the rest of the day.

It’s incredible the power of laughter. What not ten minutes before had made me feel on top of the world now humiliated me. I doubt even Tolstoy had to deal with that. Gave me some authority.

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Preachers

Preachers are generally not exceptionally bright. Or good. I hate most of them. The Puerto Rican guy that comes in isn’t one. I think he wants to be. He stutters and had painfully long lessons. Preachers get something into their otherwise empty heads and preach it regardless of audience demographics. I listen to the lesson and its being taught to people in here fro multiple counts of armed robbery, burgulary, impregnating a 15 year old and driving around (while on parole) with a gun and meth. None can read well or spell at all. Most didn’t or just barely graduated school. None have ANY experience with the impressive vocabulary of the clergy. Their eyes glaze over while hearing the words sanctified, justified, redeemed, remission, and even testimony. These guys don’t even know who David and Goliath were. Teaching them about being the vine’s branches means nothing. Being a fruitful believer. They need to hear Jesus. About Jesus, It’s not too late for them. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Just and only Jesus. I’m still arrogant I guess. And know nothing. I’m sorry. IMW

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Dreams

God I keep asking you to stop my dreams. To have mercy on me. To strengthen me. To encourage me. For even a drop of water. A small moment of peace. I get nothing. I get worse and worse. A guy just came in. His bunk is next to mine. His girlfriend goes to that church. The one that knows nothing about forgiveness. He’s friends with a couple of families from there. Both of which I was friends with. One that I was very close to and miss terribly. Their sons would come to our house and loved us. I’ve never hurt them and they too just threw me away like so much trash. Just let the knife twist a little more.

How can someone continue serving the Lord when you won’t even give me the strength to? They sell 54 inch shoe laces in prison. Might be the solution to my problem. God I’m so tired and hurt and lost. I got nothing left. They just threw me away. willing to believe the worst from someone and someones they never like or trusted. It hursts. I hate the so called ministry at that church and everything about it.  The hurt, the time, the effort,disappointment, the betrayal, the lonliness. I hate it and everything about it. I hate my family telling me to minister to those around me. I would rather have my eyes burned out than to have anything to do with it. You said you chose the foolishness of preaching to save the lost. Mine was most foolish and saved no one. I hate the ministry that betrayed me and destroyed me at that church. The ministry that humiliated and made fun of me every chance they got. The people that took and took and then threw me away. They sure didn’t have a problem taking my tithes and offerings. Especially the pastor and his so called wife.

I hate them and what they are. They will be caught someday, and it will be soon.  I hate myself the most though.

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jailhouse burrito

if you ever get a chance to eat a jailhouse burrito, don’t.  the last one they just mad had leftover meats.  chicken that was 4 hours at room temperature.  weiners that wern’t good when they were warm.  pickles. chips. awful.  you get several packs of cooked ramen noodles.  mix it all together on a workspace.  then roll it up tight.  its exactly like a sushi roll.  3 inches thick and two feet long.  and full of germs.  in my cell alone we have any number of people with s t ds and hepatits c.  it makes touching anything a little scary.  especially the toilet seats.   i’m only worried for my physical health in regards to disease.  i would actually prefer being stabbed to death etc, but not giant boils on my butt.

i miss wife

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more of the same

Ray is always scared that people are having “spider babies.”  at first i thought that was prison lingo.  its not.  its bi-polar lingo.  Dear God, my pressure is up.  They all had a fit when i told them i could be taking 6 xanax a day but i flushed them.  i don’t think its fair that wife go through life hurting while i coast through as a doped up drug lord in prison.  i’m not going out like a punk.  prison dice are made up of wet toilet paper. shaped into cubes.  then finished out with bits of dry toilet paper and toothpaste.  mine stink.  paul came up the other night and told me to stay strong.  i told him i wasn’t strong.  he said i was the strongest of us all.  but i cry all the time so i think he just wanted my brownie from supper.  conniving devil.

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prison life (dice)

i made my first two prison dice.  saying goes… it don’t count till you made our first set.  a set?  five. five?  craps is only 2 dice. yeah. but these hardened criminals dont want to shoot craps. oh no. they wanna play yahtzee.  tough guys.  Ray”s typical leftover stash is kept in apast cup thats about 20 ounces.  meatloaf, salad, cornbread, carrots, pickles, chips.  typical fare. and they love it.   or they eat a lot of ramen noodles with dehydrated beans and crackers or doritos  in it.  i hardly eat anything.  i don’t eat breakfast or lunch anymore.  and only half of my supper.  maybe i”ll waste away.  i miss wife

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Galatians 6:1 if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.

its devastating to have devoted my whole life to the church then realize it was all for nothing.  i spent so much time trying to help people. at the expense at what was most dear to me.  then when i needed christias the most, i found out that the only one i knew i had run away.  now i’m just full of hate.

i miss wife

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proverbs 18:22 who findeth a wife findeth a good thing and obtained favour of the Lord.

i have always been lonely. even surrounded by people who claim to love or like me.  my mind always felt just a little off. well, more than a little.   it lent itself to a very lonely existence.  no matter how hard i tried to fit in, or think like everyone else, i couldn’t.  and not in the manner of Einstein or Nash.  more akin to an overgrown 8 year old. perhaps a retarded 8 year old at that  but somehow i found a wife. or God gave her to me.  even with her i felt lonely sometimes.  my fault entirely.  i never knew how to completely click.  i spent so much time alone. even when surrounded.  it took trauma for me to understand being a husband, but now its too late.  now i know real real lonliness,  i’ve lost her to so many enemies and because of myself as well.

i’ve lost my wife.  if getting a wife makes God happy, losing one must be very bad.  because i haven’t heard from him since.  he’s gone too.  which might be for the best.  i don’t think i could stand before him as i am.  so for the next 50 years i am to wander through what remains of life like a ghost.  family loves me but would no matter what.  does that matter or console me?  not even a little bit. selfish. yes. self-centered. of course. always painful. more than i ever imagined.

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Wild Onions

He handed me a tiny wild onion! I had just walked back into my pod from my week in medical isolation. 3 1/2 inches long.  Dark green except for the tiny bulb at the end.  It wasn’t the largest of the bunch he held but it wasn’t the smallest either!  I accepted it with genuine gratitude. Where did he get it? They had gone out into  the yard and he had harvested them at the fence line.  While they shuffled around the concrete square.  It was oddly magical. Seeing this dark vibrant green in this white sterile enviornment. I nibbled a bite from the stem.  Thinking to save the bulb for last. The pungent flavor zoomed me miles and years away from the constant fluorescent lights, the clanging metal doors, buzzing intercoms, echoing television. I was 8 year old again. And uprooting  the wild onions that grew in the rocky ground between my grandmothers trailer and my great grand-mothers house. The same burning on my tongue. The reflexive squinting of the eyes. Yells and hoots of convicts brought me back. They were playing  cards and I had tears in my eyes. Tears not from the onions aroma.  IMW

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Affliction

I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of His wrath. He hath led me and brought me into darkness but not into light. Surely against one is he turned, he turneth His head against  me all day. My flesh and my skin hath he made old; He hath broken my bones. He hath builded against me, and compassed me with gall and travail.

He hath set me in dark places, as they that be dead of old. He hath hedged me about, that I cannot get out; He hath made my chain heavy. Also when I cry and shout, He shutteth out my prayer.

He hath enclosed my ways with hewn stone, He hath made my paths crooked. I was a derision to all my people; and their song all the day. He hath filled me with bitterness, He hath made me drunken with wormwood. He hath also broken my teeth with gravel stones, He hath covered me with ashes. And thou hast removed my soul far from peace; I forgot prosperity. Mine enemies chased  me sore, like a bird, without a cause.

 They have cut off my life in the dungeon, and cast a stone upon me. Render unto them a recompense, O Lord, according to the work of their hands. Give them sorrow of heart, thy curse upon them. Persecute and destroy them in anger from under the heavens of the Lord.  IMW

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