Calling All Yogis! Meet Pete Russell.

peteflyerjpeg

www.meditate-4-peace.com

 

 

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Talking Walls #2 (Freestyle Friday), by The Cave Dweller (NSFW)

When I’m ninety-nine, I will let my toe-knuckle hairs grow long, and dread them into tough gray rope. At the end of each dread I’ll have different animals attached to spiked collars: a monkey, a Chihuahua, a toy poodle (I’m vain), a koala bear, a marsupial, a sewer rat, a lynx, a Tasmanian devil, an ant-eater, and a ram. Fuck with me at your own risk.

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The Cave Dweller is a Texas prisoner who will be visiting regularly with short and humorous reflections. Feel free to comment with your reactions!

Previous entry: https://uncaptivevoices.wordpress.com/2017/08/16/talking-walls-1-by-the-cave-dweller-nsfw/

Remember the Dead, and Fight Like Hell For the Living

RIP Antonio “TonyTone” Williams

“An eighties baby raised in the era of dopeboys, crack fiends, and kickdoor burglaries.

A young lion of Acres Homes, nurtured on street corners by uncles and old heads who’d yet to succumb to violence or the 3 strikes laws.

Little Antonio: all ears & energy. While his schoolmates were busy being teenagers he was trapping out of motel rooms, paying rent to his own mother, surviving shoot outs, and watching out for his younger brothers.

A black boy with an immeasurable will to live, he was. He & I met on Death Row– the last stop in the Pre-School to Prison Pipeline. I laughed when he introduced himself as TonyTone. He was trying to be serious, but a chipped front tooth diminished his attempt severely. I laughed louder; he began to laugh too. Later he would joke that my gap tooth was far funnier than his chipped one, and that he could not help but laugh.

Our friendship was solidified a few years later while playing chess. Tony was one of the best chess players I’ve played. We both gambled on the game, but rarely did we gamble against each other. I asked him one day, as we were preparing to play, did he want to bet per game. He was quiet for a few moments, then looking directly at me he said, “Friends don’t hustle each other, bro”.

TonyTone was a friend.

I remember when he left for his court hearing. Weeks earlier we talked for the first time of his daughter, and his desire to be there with her. He left Death Row filled with hope. He had survived the streets, and had become a writer, poet, and a legal mind in prison. He was a beautiful, unbreakable man who deserved far more than the short life he received.

 

Long Live TonyTone!

#BlackLivesMatter

 

—Kichwa, Texas Death Row Inmate

tonytonepainting

Potrait of TonyTone, picture from MECA Dia De Los Muertos altar in Houston, October 2016.

Artist:

Howard Guidry #999226

Polunsky Unit

3872 FM 350 S.

Livingston, TX 77352

———————————————————-

Antonio “TonyTone” Williams, passed away under disputed circumstances in Harris County Jail in February 2015. TonyTone was formerly on Death Row and had been transferred to county jail for a hearing about new evidence in his case. Two witnesses had recanted their testimonies, citing police intimidation as their reason for falsely testifying against him at trial.

The Chronicle reported “The two women who saw the shooting from a second floor patio said they were told to identify Williams despite their claims that the killer was a man named Keith who had dreadlocks with blond tips, according to court documents…” While awaiting a ruling which could have overturned his sentence, he was allegedly found hanging in his cell by his shoelaces. TonyTone’s friends immediately felt that he may have been targeted by another inmate or staff due to his strong spirit of resistance. The only reason they can imagine he would have become suicidal is due to medical neglect, as he has previously been taking anti-depressants which he was denied in county jail, and mixed with the effects of solitary confinement this may have triggered a man who was known as “someone who would never give up” to become hopeless in Harris County Jail. His death was never given a fair investigation, but whether it was murder, or a reaction to negligence and torture, the Sherriff’s office is responsible for the conditions which led to this young man’s death. We must fight to make sure there is a future where there are no more senseless deaths in our jails and prisons. Prisoners rights are human rights, and their lives should matter to us too.

— the editor

Out of Sight, Out of Mind: A Convict’s Analysis on the Maintenance of Relationships While Incarcerated

By Sean Adams, Briscoe Unit,Texas

Throughout my life, friendships have been how I’ve measured success. Not as to how many friends I could collect, as is the trend in the age of social media, but rather in the mind frame that if I’m going to cut for you, to call you a friend, we have now formed a bond that would never be broken. These types of relationships were not forged right away, rather they were earned through sharing not just the good times, but the bad. Enduring experiences together that not only shaped our friendship but also ourselves. It was these experiences that made me open my heart and pledge my loyalty to this person. From that point on nothing but the ultimate betrayal could shake, sway, or shatter that love. These were principles on which I based my life. But as I’ve been gone almost half a decade now, with a few years left til I have a chance at coming home, a new form of doubt grew from quiet whispers in the back of my head to resounding echos in the forefront of my mind. How are you able to maintain these relationships when you are no longer physically present, and expect them to maintain that strength of love? How long can you ride on the memories of days gone by before people get tired of living in the past and move on?

When I posed this question to a friend of mine I offered him a parable: Imagine that as a child you had two best friends with whom you were inseparable. You grew up on the same street, went to the same school, and did the same activities. However, several years pass and one of the friends moves away and starts going to a different school,(different friends, different setting.) Despite all those critical years spent together, in due time, who do you find yourself closer to? The one who continued to go through the journey of life with you, or the one who moved away? The answer is obvious; it was not out of loss of love that your other friend was relegated from a crucial part of your life to just a flicker of a memory of times past.

The change is never meant as an act of maliciousness or spite, but rather that of the wise old saying “Out of sight, out of mind.” Since being locked up no phrase has ever rang truer or had a more personal meaning to me. It seems that everything that could have happened did. People grew old. Some died, too often before their times. Flings turned into romances and grew into marriages and families. People who were barely eking out a living, and shacking up in warehouses with half a dozen other people, now have careers and have been approved for loans to buy their first house. All these things I was resigned to hear about through letters and two hour visits. They are always accompanied by the bittersweet feeling of happiness for their accomplishments, and sadness for not being there to share my joy with them. The more I heard, the more I felt disconnected, impotent even. Where was I in all of this? What role did I play? I suddenly felt like a grown up returning to their hometown and listening to a parent fill them in on all of the happenings of the friends you left behind. “Oh, Jimmy got married” or “Sally got a job out of state”, and “Becky passed away a couple years ago”–overwhelmed as you try to digest it all. These are my fears of returning to a world that has changed so much that it is as if you were never there in the first place.

My experience is not a common one, in that after all these years I still get at least a few letters a month, and maybe a visit every two or three. Surely it pales in comparison to the flood of mail and visits I got when I first got locked up. Over time, three or four letters a day became three to four a week, to three to four a month, and visits crowded with friends every week became solitary occasions sporadically spaced out. But still, I’m incredibly lucky that I have people like that out there for me. I’d like to think it’s due in part to the bonds I’ve built all my life. With every passing year, I can’t help but wonder how long these bonds will be able to endure the strain. It’s easy when you are in here to forget life still goes on out there, even to the point of lying to ourselves. We wonder why people can’t find the time to visit, or write, send money, or pick up the phone; our minds run rampant with outrageous scenarios as to why, but the plain and simple truth is that people have lives out there, with full time jobs, bills to pay, people to take care of, and their own personal needs, which a lot of times they find themselves putting dead last. It’s not that they are purposefully not thinking of us, but rather they’re trying to take care of the things in front of them on a daily basis. Like I said, “Out of sight, out of mind”.

With a logical explanation you would think you could easily dismiss such fears of being forgotten, but the world is not a logical place. I wonder, “If the world has moved on so much, what will it be like returning to it?”, or if that is even as desirable a prospect as it once was. I’m more scared of losing what I love out there than anything I’ve experienced, or will face, in here. But rather than wallow in lament and self-pity, I try to be proactive in my situation. Every week I go through my lists of addresses and think to myself about whom I haven’t written in a while.  Even if I haven’t heard from them, I still make it a point to write, because the best way to fight “Out of sight, out of mind” is to keep yourself in their lives the best way you can. Letters of love, support, and keeping them abreast of what I’m up to is almost the same as being there. I’d be ignorant to think that all of the sudden these people wouldn’t want to hear from me. An unexpected letter in the mailbox has the same effect as dropping by for a surprise visit, except the conversation is one-sided. I’ve invested too much time, love, and memories with my friends to let them go without a fight. While I live in a state of caution as to what the next day might bring, or what news the next letter or visit might bare, as long as I have breath in my lungs I won’t disappear– for my friends’, as well as my own, sake.

Sean Adams, #1850164, March 2016

 

Energy Without Geography- John G.

Inside us all

There’s a place we call home.

Somewhere all our own

No one can take away.

And through it all

When we can’t face the day

We turn to ourselves and say

Why must we be alone?

                                                                                        It’s just energy

                                                                                                without geography.

                                                                                                    A place that we call our hearts

                                                                                                still beating in time.

                                                                                               It’s just a symphony

                                                                                                  with no choreography.

                                                                                                  Time isn’t wasted there

                                                                                                    when love was yours and mine.

Inside us all

there’s a time we remember best.

Sort of a history test

to answer a call.

And through it all

I thought I heard and saw

My dreams walking strong and tall

Yes, these were the best.

                                                                                            It’s just energy

                                                                                                     without geography.

                                                                                                       It’s just a symphony

                                                                                                         without choreography.

                                                    A play, a song, a rhyme…

 

Written by John Green #671771 from CT Terrell Unit in Rosharon, TX.

Poetry from Pelican Bay SHU

While we are still figuring out some things in Texas, I am happy to introduce a man who contacted me from solitary confinement at the Pelican Bay State Prison. Pelican Bay has been at the center of a legal battle over human rights abuses and prolonged use of solitary for several years now. Timothy has chosen to share some loving words despite the isolation he lives in. Enjoy!

 

I see orange and purple skies,

As I watch the sunset in her eyes,

Mesmerized —

Such an elegant beauty

In which she possesses

Her every word caresses

I find myself possessed

Alleviated stress

She strokes the keys to my life

Like a seasoned musician

Of whom I will always listen–

The eloquence of her melody

Lifts me up in pure rhapsody

And sets me down

Upon sweet crimson grass

Where I lay forever dreaming

At last, at last,

Finally, at long last.

 

Timothy Trujillo, P32319

PBSP SHU C8-108

PO BOX 7500

Crescent City, CA 95531

Support Pelican Bay and other California Prisoners fighting Solitary:  https://prisonerhungerstrikesolidarity.wordpress.com/

 

Zine Release and More

On January 9th we released our second zine to a full house of enthusiastic supporters! The event was a great success, with historical and personal information from activists Gloria Rubac, Joanne Gavin, and Robert Gartner, as well as comments from editor Marie B and contributor Cristy V. Below I will share some photos of the event and information on the prisoners involved. The overall message we wanted to promote at the opening was that it is crucially important for our community to see prisoners as humans, with families who are suffering, in order to work together to find better solutions to our society’s problems. The current unjust and oppressive prison system harms our families and communities and does nothing to fix issues of inequality, addiction, poverty, mental illness, or to prevent violence. When we begin to view prisoners as members of a family and community we can work towards a more just society. Each person has an individual story and addressing the individual causes and effects(focus on healing rather than retribution) of their behavior in a  humane way can create much more effective results than punishing them and their family for years or decades. If you would like to receive a copy of the zine, please contact us to purchase one! Continue below for more information on our contributors:

Anthony “Tony” Medina

Tony is a Texas Death Row inmate, a father, a writer, and artist. His book, Witness to Murder, is a collection of poetry and essays posing the question “What is the value of a man’s life?”. You can find Witness to Murder online. Tony is currently hoping to make a casual friend from Houston, and you can write to him at:

Anthony Medina #999204

Polunsky Unit

3872 FM 350 S.

Livingston, TX 77351

 

Howard Guidry

Howard is on Texas Death Row. He is a son, husband, brother and uncle who is very dedicated to his family. He is also an artist, writer of poetry, essays, and plays, and is adamant about practicing yoga regularly in his cell or in the recreation area. He is always looking for new friends to keep him occupied!

Address:

Howard Guidry #999226

Polunsky Unit

3872 FM 350 South

Livingston, TX 77351

James Broadnax

James, or JB, is a young man on Death Row. He is an avid writer, and has contributed both to a blog called Solitary Mind, and a book called “Emotionally Illiterate: A Collection of Writings”. He submitted a spoken word piece and other poetry to our zine.

Address:

James Broadnax #999549

Polunsky Unit

3872 FM 350 S.

Livingston, TX 77351

 

John Green

John Green is an avid writer of fiction (prose, poetry and songs), a classic rock fan, and an enthusiast of literature, radio, and comedy. He is currently working on a fiction novel, but chose to contribute an inspiring and humorous reflection on his role model, his father Bob. He has contributed several poems and songs to our blog as well. He is actively seeking a dedicated pen pal.

Address:

John Green #671771

C.T. Terrell Unit

1300 FM 655

Rosharon, TX 77583

Jorge Garcia

Jorge is currently held at the Eastham Unit, in solitary confinement. He is unfortunately separated from his family (mother, sister, and daughter) by a large amount of space and hopes to see reform in the use of solitary confinement soon, as well as hoping to be moved closer to his loved ones. He likes to read and writes poetry and short prose. He would love to make a friend to have someone to express his thoughts to and learn from.

Address:

Jorge Garcia #1372972

Eastham Unit

2665 Prison Rd #1

Lovelady, TX 75851

Kenneth Conrad-Vodochodsky

Kenneth was sent to Death Row under a law of parties conviction, but has since had his sentence reduced. He is not guilty of murdering anyone and actually was not present when the murder was committed. He will be released by 2029 and has worked to better himself during his incarceration especially since his move from Death Row has allowed him more opportunities. He is an artist and writer who works with German artist Anja Claudia Pentrop on various projects. 

Address:

Kenneth Vodochodsky #1362329

Pack 1 Unit

2400 Wallace Pack Rd

Navasota, TX 77868

Nanon Williams

Nanon was formerly on Texas Death Row, but because he was convicted as a child he was later moved to general population with a life sentence. He is an academic, a published author, and a tradesman who makes beautiful leather and metal items in his prison craftshop. He has published a prisoner newsletter for many years and continues to fight his conviction. We hope he will join us in the free world to fight for justice soon! His books, with co-author Dr. Betty Gilmore: The Darkest Hour and Still Surviving, are available online.

Address:

Nanon Williams #1306434

Ramsey One Unit

1100 FM 655

Rosharon,TX 77583

Pete Russell

Pete is a Death Row inmate and a dedicated yogi. His book, Texas Death Row Yogi is available online. Pete is currently looking to make a friend to help maintain his personal/yoga centered web page. He also contributed artwork to our zine project! 

Address:

Pete Russell #999443

Polunsky Unit

3872 FM 350 S.

Livingston, TX 77351

Sean Adams

Before his incarceration, Sean was a longtime anti-racist activist in Houston and supporter of leftist movements and he was working on a historical fiction novel about Anarchists during the Spanish Civil War.  His problems with alcohol and other drugs brought him to prison after a tragic accident. He is currently about a third of the way through his sentence and has worked hard to be a model inmate, tutoring others and continuing to be a positive influence in the life of many of his friends from Houston. He hopes to see parole in the next 5 years so he can rejoin his father, sister and many friends and continue to fight for a better world. He is currently in the transfer process, but his address can be found online.
Sean Adams #1850164

Tee Earvin

Tee is one of the longest serving Death Row prisoners in Texas, and probably in the nation; he arrived there in 1976 and has not only maintained his sanity despite decades of torture, but has changed his life in many positive ways. He is a serious writer of poetry and prose, an artist, and is politically engaged as well. He is an example of personal growth against all odds and some of the young men on Death Row have written about him as an inspirational person in their life. 

Address:

Harvey Earvin #000577

Polunsky Unit

3872 FM 350 South

Livingston, TX 77351

Terence Andrus

Terence is one of the youngest men on Death Row in Texas, arriving there at the age of 24 in 2012. He left behind a small daughter who was his motivation for contributing to this publication. He has been learning about writing and many other subjects since his incarceration began, and is seeking a mature, dedicated friend to support him.

Address:

Terence Andrus #999578

Polunsky Unit

3872 FM 350 S.

Livingston, TX 77351

 

See our Pen Pal page for more information on

(and pictures of) many of these men and others!

Pictures From the Zine Release!

gloriatalking
Gloria Rubac speaking about the men on Death Row

zinerelease16

marietalkingzine
Marie introducing the zine

zinereleasebobgroupzinereleaseboby

Thanks for Reading!

Our next post will be a continuation of writings on family and incarceration from two men in solitary confinement…coming soon!