THROUGH The Eyes of A Crying Soul: The collective work-poetry of one's journey through the stages of darkness-purgatory

By K. A. Mohabir

This is a literary composition composed for those who feel like nobody's listening. For my comrades, my mom and my dad, and my two sisters who showed me what it means to be different. For the drug addicts that fiend but still dream of better conditions, huddled with puddles on pillows with Brillos and pipes, not bathed or slept in days, high as a kite. For the single parents that struggle working doubles, taxing their muscles so their children can comfortably cuddle and sleep at night. For the people looking for peace through the pieces of life, each intricate piece significant in this puzzle of life. I speak for the weak, for the innocent lives that died in the streets. For Kalen, my nephew, and for Kaira, my niece. I'm standing tall for my uncle Paul who died at the homeless shelter in his sleep. For my aunt Vanessa--God bless her; she left us at peace. For hip-hop unlocking the key and making this an option for me. For my ancestors, the investors in this struggle who made it possible for me. For Thomas Edison, for constituting this beautiful medicine for me. For the Almighty, who told him rightly it's only right that we have the freedom to speak. And for giving me this platform as a uniform for community outreach. Through the eyes of a crying soul. My fears have been exposed through the windows of my soul...through the eyes of a crying soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781637105399

Book preview

Freedom and Success

Man, I gotta get home. I gotta give this time back! Fifty years in a Florida state prison; tss, I can’t even see that far bruh.

You know what? I refuse to be the dude that stays in his rack,

I can’t be the one that sleeps around and act as if life is meaningless.

When it comes to my freedom and success,

I have to be an extremist.

Some have deemed the conditions of living in prison unfair,

and it seems that only Momma and Poppa truly care

whether you live through this nightmare or survive this burden you bear.

And that’s based on your bond and the kind of love you share

or if they’re still there.

This is cruel and unusual punishment here;

the only peace of mind you’ll find is through divine power and prayer.

Meditation, self-education, and application is constructive ventilation

for detrimental frustrations that stem from unproductive conversations;

the life and death confrontations, the isolation and subjugation;

the segregation and degenerative degradation that’ll push you way outside the virtues of patience.

The racism is flagrant,

belligerent and blatant.

The white preacher’s congregation of believers don’t see that he’s a devil

throwing pebbles at rebels’ unsettled minds.

The black preachers are just as evil,

oppressing their own people and putting down.

Using words with racial slurs to unnerve the tenants;

warriors, soldiers, generals, and lieutenants

Daily fighting these cowards screaming white power

and every unjust hour of your sentence.

Channel your anger and focus; Freedom & success, Progress, not regress

Channel your anger and focus; Freedom & success, Progress, not regress.

Clarity

This is not entertainment!

I repeat.

This is not entertainment!

I am not here to glorify drug dealing, thug living,

Nor to add to your mental enslavement.

Before I got the courage to face my fears;

For years,

Subdued by the pressure of my peers,

It was dear.

The game was meant to be sold,

Not told.

But then I learned the otha side of the game

After Judge Marc Gold sentenced me to fifty years up the road.

Kill or be killed,

They said that’s how it goes.

They never disclosed that using your intelligence to lighten your load

Doesn’t make you weak.

They didn’t expose that ignorance carries the burden,

So be your own person

With character and dignity.

Still Here, Still Standing

For many years I’ve been a frequent flier,

in and out of these revolving doors.

I’ve hurt and I’ve been hurt

with hate and sorrow seeping through my pores.

My heart and soul have been broken;

I’ve been torn down completely.

All I have left is my freedom of speech,

so I speak firmly, open and freely.

I’ve been tormented and beaten,

but I’m still standing with the ground beneath me.

No longer do I sit in silence,

allowing mental violence to beseech me.

Reaching out, I asked for help;

the Most High sent His angels out to meet me.

While diligently seeking, I heard these words spoken in a still, small voice

sternly and discreetly.

Life is full of trials and tribulations,

but be patient, things will change.

Endure through the struggle, embrace the suffering,

face the pain.

I Miss You

I need to see you;

I’ve been away from