This section will publish creative contributions mostly from currently and formerly incarcerated people. It will include short-stories, poetry, creative nonfiction, art, and much more. If you have something creative to submit to us, we would love to read it, or see it, and publish it in About Time.
The two men popped open the Tesla's doors, thump thomp, and stepped out into a blooming orchard. The air was a herbal tea. Honey bees bobbed between the peach pink flowers.
Our faces are seen above uniforms of green,
We parade in this prison, all shaven clean.
"Another day in paradise", we sarcastically wink,
"We fake it till we make it", we tell our shrink.
We feel like stock on a bar-coded shelf,
Stored, then shifted between warehouses of wealth.
At the mercy of 'sirs';, kids with keys,
Who are half our age, who we need to please.
On our hilltop horizon, some silhouettes appear.
Marching black cattle, grazing on the clear.
A trinity of eagles, wind-surfing thermal waves,
They see both sides of the hill as slaves.
In our prison tents, we queue, single file,
But over the hill, you shop in the same style.
While we crave to return to your 'greener' side,
The eagles see a truth that we all try to hide.
You crave an idyllic pine tree sojourn,
But our star-lit escape costs more than you earn.
You crave spinning windmills where regal eagles reign,
We crave spinning steering wheels and aeroplanes.
You see this tent as Her Majesty's prison,
But the eagle's lens sees a symmetrical prism.
While we bemoan an injustice miscarriage,
You may bemoan a miserable marriage.
Why wallow my walls of incarceration,
Within bedroom walls – your divided nation.
Between each brick you add cement,
When you let the sun set while your heart resents.
We're unleashed when we reach the sentence full-stop.
While you're life-bound to shackles you cannot chop.
Our hill orates its' sermon on the mount,
When we're down, we gaze up at this wisdom fount.
Are you a slave to the debts that never forgive,
While our temporary tent gives us temporary reprieve.
Eagles see paradises, and prisons without bars,
On both sides of the hill, where there's no greener grass.
Outside these prison walls exists real life,
Going daily about their business in haste.
The hustle and bustle, too busy to stop,
Lives synchronised, and no time to waste.
Mothers with tired children in tow,
Screaming, crying, wanting to go home.
Men in smart suits walking with purpose,
Others oblivious to all, chatting on their phone.
The train station bursting with passengers,
Waiting to board for their trip to work.
Annoyed, frustrated with another day at the office
A young lad on a skateboard, being such a jerk.
A drunken man, filthy clothes, hungry and begging,
No one stops to pander to his feeble please.
So many different faces, voices and religions
A collage of wide and varied nationalities.
All these people have lives of meaning and purpose,
Busy, full, entertaining and hectic lives.
Bonded together by the common thread of family,
There for each other, in times of good or strife.
But inside these prison walls, lives are broken,
Chastened by a system that abhors crime.
Their souls hardened by years of hatred and anger,
No meaning, no purpose, just doing their time.
The clock never stops, while doing
their time.
Obey you must O’feeable citizen, do you dare to cross the line?
March in formation and resist temptation, only in film can you live those golden lives.
Transgress not the legal Dogma, For it is not your place to play.
That arena is for the daring and the ones that got away.
It will burn away at your psyche, then maybe should you try?
Or will you cower away from elation, the only true freedom lies in alibi.
It is not without great stigma, and tormenting time away.
But you will only read of it in books? Or gamble courage without delay.
Will you die a dim lit lantern or blaze with fury for what you believe?
Because those that command you of their bidding, are the ones who decree masks to deceive.
Make no mistake in knowing, that the truth is rarely told.
It’s those that break the rules who have Platinum, Diamonds and Gold.
Incarceration builds character, you will wear it with pride & glee.
Know you would much prefer it, then to fade away into obscurity.
We are the noble outlaws, our moral compass free to roam.
Harm wished upon no one, except Tyranny that mans the throne.
Do not point your finger at us, for we are who you crave to be.
True criminals evade your senses, while they tax you in harmony.
Oh how I can’t stand these nights alone
Wishing that i could just go home
Never thought this is where I’d be
Constantly dreaming of being free
A simple twist of turning key
A little click and the locks on me
I can’t say the way i feel
Surrounded by concrete and steel
I’ve crossed the line from mad to sane
A million times over and back again
No one hears my cries and desperate calls
They just echo off these dungeon walls
Should have known passing through the gate
That once inside I could not escape
Without you i dont think id find a way
To get through the struggles of everyday
When everything just seems so wrong
The thought of you keeps me strong
Whatever torture and heartache remains
Our love will break the chains.
I’ve tried to write poetry, but I find it hard to do,
I’d like to say in pretty words, just what I think of you.
And what I would like to say, would be something like this:
You make my heart run wild, with just one little kiss.
When I am holding you close, my heart beats like a drum,
And the sparkle in your eyes shines brighter than the sun.
The tenderness of your lips, is much safer than air,
And there is nothing to match the beauty of your hair.
Beyond the bars, I sit and think about the past
Beyond the bars, I wait and watch the time pass
Beyond the bars, I barely ever see the stars
Beyond the bars, I’m alone in the dark.
Beyond the bars, I try to make my dream last
Beyond the bars, I learnt to walk my own path
Beyond the bars, I always wonder where you are
Beyond the bars, I still remember your laugh.
You were never there to tuck me into bed
No, you were never there at night when I was scared
Mama, where were you when I needed you most
Mama tell me why all alone I had to cope
The other kids at school, well they all had a mum
The other kids, the other kids all had someone
I never had a close friend, one to call my own
Freedom has been likened
To a bird, a plane, a song,
It has been once personified
As a road that’s very long.
Freedom has been likened
To people: from war, death, or insanity,
To others it is being absolved
From rules for eternity.
The two men popped open the Tesla's doors, thump thomp, and stepped out into a blooming orchard. The air was a herbal tea. Honey bees bobbed between the peach pink flowers.
If I could dress it up and say I never felt better
That I’ve got a girl at home and I’m waiting for a letter
I’d pretend the kids are fine and doing well at school
And when I phone they say they miss me
And they think their daddy’s cool
No matter what our pasts may say
What hurts, our pains endured,
And tears shed for those who
Walked away.
You and I, need not let ourselves
Be defined by those hurts from
Our pasts and no longer will it
Influence our time.
Waiting for parole is like remand all o'er again
When starting on my 'things-to-do', my mind leaps back to 'when!?'
All-consuming niggling thoughts contort me out of shape
Swarms of bees inside my head frantic for an escape
Years and years I've counted down now focused on just days
Yet I can't shake the fear and dread that l'Il be here always
Don't follow in my footsteps
It's been no Sunday stroll
No the road to redemption
Isn't paved in gold
Writing can be a great way to express yourself, to get things out of your head and to pass the time. But writing can also be daunting: where to start? These exercises will help you get your pen to paper.
About Time Media acknowledges the traditional owners of the lands across Australia and particularly acknowledges the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, traditional owners of the land on which About Time Media is based.
We acknowledge the continuing impacts of the criminal legal system on First Nations people, including disproportionate rates of incarceration and deaths in custody, which remain a national shame.
We pay deep respect to Elders past and present, and all families of those who have lost loved ones in prison.
© About Time Media Ltd.
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