~From Plantations to Penitentiaries~

Food for thought...

Freedom is only a whisper in the halls of in-justice, three strikes and your busted

sentence, life without the possibility of parole, if it were possible wouldn't we know?

We're only mere abstracts in the flesh game, ponded off for economic gain, then left to wither away on broken remains.

Voices, crying out from prison graves, hunted by echoes that once danced upon distant shores, long before we were slaves.

Now, here we sit on blood drenched land, confounded by time, misconceptions, an anarchy of truth or dare loosed upon the air.

Must I shout rebuttal at the united nations clamoring together in silent deterioration, wiping out generation after generation.

Are we but mere pawns in a clever scheme, obstacles of irrelevant inflation, feeding the masses on prison wages, while shuttering at the very thought of emancipation?

Are we hungry ourselves for annihilation, flocking to man built prisons for infiltration, while manning our own broken stations?

I sit on the threshold of humanity gazing over into projectory, from plantations to penitentiaries, our people have always been economic & agricultural security,

history has and continues to feast on our misery, bartering on our captivity, while hanging us from that tree of democracy.

(©)copyright:KarenRussell/7-22-2010