Extracts From A Prison Diary

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Listening to a group of youths chatting amongst themselves on a bus, I was appalled to hear how they all but revered one of their friends who had recently been jailed for a knife attack on someone. 

I bet they wouldn’t think prison was so good for street cred if they were there, locked up for much if not most of the time and deprived of their freedom all the time...

The majority of young people are decent, hard working, good people. The tragic irony is that the relatively few bad apples in the proverbial barrel have the same potential if only they would acknowledge the common sense in getting their priorities right, the courage to resist peer pressure from the wrong parties and make the most of that potential instead of whining about how the better opportunities never come their way.

Prevention is better than cure. True, luck can play a part in whether or not opportunity knocks at our door, but mostly we have to take a good look around, see what there is to be had that we want and is worth wanting, and ... 

GO FOR IT.

Did I say it was easy ...?

EXTRACTS FROM A PRISON DIARY

A neighbour slipped out to buy bread

and…was shot dead;

Hoodies cheered, one waving a gun;

(Who’s next? Could be anyone...)

I thought I knew that hood inside-out

till I heard a devil yell, “Shoot!”

A face in shadow, but I knew the voice;

what happened next, my choice

Mates say guns are a must (gang culture),

a necessary feel-good factor;

suddenly, blood on my designer shoes;

heads cops win, tails I lose

Emergency sirens blasting at my head,

(Like it was me shot someone dead?)

I knelt by the body and called out a name;

the only answer, howls of shame

I was told to wear a white shirt, black tie

for the funeral, but it was a lie;

what difference if I’m dressed up smart?

Better jeans, hood, a caring heart

Later (crying in cuffs) taken back to prison,

old mates, some hoodies, looking on;

Drugs, booze, skipping school, what matter?

It was my finger on the trigger

The idea of prison hadn’t bothered me

(I’d seen cool shows on TV);

the reality? I am as meat in a lion’s den

only…torn to pieces by men

Oh, to be a schoolkid again, a wiser one,

who would never carry a gun…

nor would I mistake everyday life for dull,

but get an education, enjoy to the full

Like bile on the tongue, every word written

for tears and fears I keep well hidden

or drown in each lonely day’s angry swell

crashing down on this, my life, my cell

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]