Another Post from Anonymous

When I was about to be released from prison I was filled with a lot of mixed emotions.
I had become rather institutionalized in there. If you could defend yourself in the occasional misunderstanding with some brain damaged crack head you were relatively safe inside. Your needs were met on a basic level and there were a few perks like being able to lift weights twice a day. By the end I could bench-press all of the weights in the stack on the machine, three hundred pounds, with three reps. Hitting the whole stack they call it. I was getting rather muscular, getting my “swole on” in jailhouse slang. I’d also figured out a ploy that allowed me to visit the prison library for two hours a week instead of the usual fifteen minutes. I caught up on the books that I should have read in college and never found time for in the free world from Hemingway to Salinger. (The cons like Catcher in the Rye because they say it was the favorite book for most of the famous serial killers.)  What really scared me was the shattered world that I was about to rejoin. I was the primary
income generator of my small business and being “on vacation” for seven months hadn’t helped. It also was somewhat less than helpful that a couple of the people I had entrusted the care of my home and business to had made a royal mess of things. Going into the sordid details here will not help illuminate the following poem but the phrase; “Kicking a man when he’s down” comes to mind. 
  I wasn’t looking forward to all the bad news that awaited my arrival home. I also wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the new “intensive supervision” my P.O. or probation officer was going to scrutinize me with. I would have to call in each day to see if one of four random colors came up meaning that I would have to come in for a U.A., a urinalysis. I would also have to attend counseling and A.A. almost daily. One slight misstep and I’d be back behind bars to serve out my sentence. What I was looking forward to was all the great food I was going to eat after enduring the soy and meat byproduct disgustations served in the prison chow hall. We lived for the once a week commissary day when we could buy a pint of ice cream. I dreamt of salad bars and going to the Awful House for hash browns, scattered, smothered and covered. A few days before my scheduled release and filled with a strange admixture of joy and trepidation I penned this little poem. 

    Scattered, smothered, covered, afraid.  By #1658022

Ten days and a wake up, I should be happier than this.
  Going home to a firestorm, a shit storm, a world of hurt.
Here I could forget for a minute, “What me worry?” Ya’ know what I’m saying?
Three hots and a cot and The Greats of American Literature 101.
Lemme fine out Ol’ School can hit the whole stack. Time to get my swole on.
  Ice cream, you scream, we all scream for commissary day.
Welcome back playa from the Himalaya, now pay up.
No rest for the wicked, the wages of sin are way past due.
Just take time to stop and smell the bullshit.
  Eat, drink and be wary for tomorrow you’re busted.
Time to screw my courage to the sticking post.
  Time to bear the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Who happens to be a really great shot.
To be or not to be, to do be doobie do, cock a doodle do.
  Early to bed, early to rise is a sign of depression.
An A.A. a day keeps my P.O. away. My U.A. runneth over.
  Is your pee cup half full or half empty?
Is your life half full or just half fast?
  Full speed ahead! Damn the torpedoes, just give me burritos!
Time to tuck into an all you can eat buffet of crow with some nice humble pie for dessert.
Scattered, smothered, covered and diced, any way you slice it, very nice,
    It’s worth every penny at half the price.
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.
  Your color came up so pee in the cup.
I do not like it on the lam, I do not like it in the can.
  Six months of bad news in a pile of unopened envelopes.
We’re sorry, but this users E-Mail box is full, please stop trying.
  I hope the novelty of eating whatever I want wears off before I really do get swole.
One more order please,
  I’ll have ‘em scattered, smothered, covered, afraid.


2 Responses to “Another Post from Anonymous”

  1. Not just saving you from chopped liver here but I liked the poem, I somehow feel that when my time comes, I might be able to make it.

  2. I responded on the last one and have read this a couple of times and it is far from chopped liver. It could have just have well been me a few years back. Being on the brink of madness and despair and rising above has been no easy chore. I’d like to blame it on 8 years (GWB) of irreparable damage to our grand Republic, but realize it reaches much farther than that. These days I’ll be sober as a judge to view the collapse which is slated for sometime in the next 20 years if nothing changes.

    Thank Anonymous for posting it’s good for reflection.

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