Sunday, March 31, 2013

Sirens & Bullpens

And their hearts beat with fright as sirens and spinning lights flash through the night
Many a home in the hood is torn apart in the wee hours of the night
In the name of the crime fight
We live in spotlights of badges and guns
Unwarranted frisks, searches and seizures
Seizures gone untreated on bullpen floors
Dope fiends shaking in their own vomit
There's nothing, no remedy to stop it.
Bullpen therapy to break spirits and souls
Collect phone calls home
Jail wives diligently hold on to all they love
With all their might
Holding on to the memory of that last night
Hopes and prayers of freedom
Time speeding
Needing
Home
To be happy, secure, safe and filled with love
Flicks, packages and multiple hour trips
Putting up with Correction officer Bullshit
& this for us is it...
From child support to direct sales and traffic tickets.
If they can find a way to steal a black soul they'll run with it.
Black babies thrown in the system, adopted away forever in 18 months
Mommy's got a 2 year bid
Now another family's lost another kid.
Look, it's a shame what we've did.
We were born with the wrong color skin.



(*not blaming the incarceration solely on racism but speaking the truth of minorities being targeted primarily in the inner city to fill the correctional facilities mainly located in rural small towns with limited income in an effort to provide economic stimulation. They've got to find someone to fill all these jails-and they're not looking at their neighbors. )


Bullpen Therapy- The practice of extended hours of incarceration with many other individuals in a small, medium or large one room concrete and steel barred cell. Each cell is lined with one to two benches on each side allowing for a limited number of individuals to be seated during the wait for court in New York City's Central Booking. Many are forced to sleep on the floor while waiting several days in the Booking's.
Although food is provided there is no visiting with loved ones, family or friends while awaiting court. This allows for the psychological and sociological aspect of incarceration. During Bullpen Therapy the detainee has time to reflect on his or her actions leading up to incarceration, call family, friends and legal counsel for assistance, speak with counsel before court and discuss his or her case with other detainees in the Bullpen. In New York City one can be detained for up to 72 hours awaiting arraignment-in the Bullpens. Some individuals frequent the Bullpens never making it to Riker's Island but going home from court, over and over again. Others learn the first time and never come back.
Others are transported to Riker's Isand for a wide variety of reasons where the true Bullpen Therapy begins. The individual can spend another 72 hours being processed through a series of medical and mental health testing and screening (including Hepatitis, TB, STD's and pregnancy in the case of females) before being sent to their actual cell block to await the next court date. These bullpens range from very small single person cells to extra large holding cells. The individuals are moved from cell to cell like cattle during the processing on Riker's Island and many cells are filled to standing room only capacity, sometimes with more than the legal amount of people per cell.
The detainees are dressed in jumpsuits and many sleep on the cold concrete floors after being washed down in a freezing de-lice shower at the beginning of the Bullpen process (not optional). Many people get colds, flu and infections after or during Bullpen Therapy. There is air conditioner running during all seasons in the Bullpens to prevent the spread of airborne illnesses and kill bacteria. Blankets are not given in the Bullpens until the detainee is ready to be housed.
(image: an actual Riker's Island cell block)

During Riker's Island Bullpen therapy one is not allowed a phone call, visit or contact with the outside world forcing the individual to face the reality of their situation. Once finally placed in their housing unit detainees are not safe from bullpen therapy. Bullpen Therapy is used for court dates, outside medical and sometimes for child visits.
The day of release for an inmate is a very long day of Bullpen Therapy-hopefully making sure the inmate doesn't return. Reality is the recidivism rate is astronomical despite the sheer torture of Bullpen Therapy.


Thursday, March 7, 2013

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Ancestral Hope

And through the lands their souls broke, shattered and scattered slave children old enough to work  were bought and sold for the sake of trade.
Today in the Hoods across America scattered children still cry from broken and shattered souls & homes.
They roam.
Hoods with teenage littered front stoops & school yard benches cloaked in hopes and dreams of better days and better ways
Just the same as their ancestral slaves
On plantations filled with songs of sorrow and strength
They sang songs to the beat of sweat drops on soft cotton.
Tear drops the heart of the melody.
From then to now we silently cry.
From plantations to stoops, to back yards and garages
We hope
We dream
And we pray
For one day
A better day
Another day
In the Hood.

-Jay Dee

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Black Man

We see you brother...We see you. (J.D)
We see, we hear and we understand .

THE GOOD OLE DAYS



Sittin on car hoods..
Munchin’ on Bonton’s  
 Throwin’ back red & blue quarter waters
Dip dip dog shit
Shorts under the skirts for our daughters

Concrete benches
Tag , Flippin ‘over park swings
Chinese staircases, “The box”
Double Dutch
Freezer burnt bodega ice cream

Double Dutch
Manhunt,  
Stayin out til the sun left…
These are the moments when I remember the hood the best…

# KIDS DON’T HAVE A CHILDHOOD ANYMORE… 

Silent Whispers



I never really saw myself until the moment I took a step back and analyzed myself for the first time from the inside. Yep, that was me…Like so many sisters and brothers of this world today; …Im just trying to endure this everyday hustle and bustle.. Trying to walk in my own path, while at the same time finding the strength to have my own say…….


A quite girl in bondage, so that silence kept me slumbered in the crowd….I went from a child to a woman, turning it up, standing from out of the crowd out loud !.. hahahaha….I’ve been silenced too long.. We’ve been silenced too long….


Let’s go ahead and break the chains and talk about what’s been kept sleep… the situations and issues most don’t want to speak out about…The GOOD.. The BAD…and The UGLY… whatever that has  been swept from under our feet and hidden under that dusty rug….I hear you… We hear you… but have you let yourself be heard? Let’s not let the silence fade us into the background….

Monday, February 25, 2013

As The Hood Turns our beauty still reigns supreme. Natural glow like The Sun 'Ethnic' women in the straits of poverty in Hoods across the country wear their beauty gracefully, almost in ignorance of how powerful such a beauty is and can be.
In European hair weaves, swinging locs and bald heads we grace the streets of our Hoods. 
And we are loved. 
We are the mother of the Fathers and Sons who build our Hoods up and unfortunately tear our Hoods down. 
We are the softness that carries our daughters and we are the voice of empathy through the cold and callous streets.
We are the fierceness that protects the young, the caretakers of our elderly & the backbone of our Men. 

There is always beauty in The Hood and as it turns we stand balanced in His Grace.

-Jay Dee


My name doesn't matter. I'm just here to talk with you. Talk about all we see, hear and feel we wish to share with the world. The Hood is Turning all around us and for some reason they can't see. But we can.
Here you are sure to be interested.
We want to keep you commenting and talking about our topics and insights, it's for you, by you. Yup, you wrote this, cus I am you. Don't believe I am you? Look in the mirror...see me right there? I am you ancestor, your offspring, your sibling, your friend. I am one born with a wide open third eye. There...can't you see it? Of course you can, because you're here. Welcome.
I can see your big beautiful third eye as well. It makes me smile.
Sisters, brothers, lets tell the others what we see...shall we?
I don't write I talk and brothers, sisters I invite you to talk with me.
We converse here in The Hood, while it turns around us.
Let's share our insights.