During the course of filming at New Jersey State Prison, the filmmakers Alan and Susan Raymond were invited to an evening with the Prose and Cons Poetry Workshop under the supervision of community volunteer Bill Carhart. These inmate poets would meet once a week to read and share their work. The men in this class were not illiterate upon being placed in this institution and are not volunteers in the L.I.F.E. Program. The filmmakers felt that by contrasting men trying to express themselves in poetry or written form against the struggles of those men learning to read, an audience could see the value of self-expression as a necessary human need. (Recently a community volunteer started poetry classes for L.I.F.E. Program students as well.)

In 1989 inmate Michael LaBruno, a highly published poet, originated this poetry workshop to encourage fellow inmates to write. After LaBruno's death from liver disease, Bill Carhart, a teacher in the education department of New Jersey State Prison, volunteered to oversee this poetry workshop and has continued to work with these writers for the past ten years. Bill Carhart stated:

"As a writer myself, I recognize that communication is a human essential. Over these ten years, I have seen people doing such lengthy sentences become disciplined and not give up on life. Writing is outstanding as quality rehabilitation. And rehabilitation does exist if only in the mind."

The members of Prose and Cons publish a tri-annual poetry collection at New Jersey State Prison called Harvest. Harvest features NJSP inmate poetry and artwork. More recently Harvest published works from inmates in other prisons. The members of Prose and Cons have published Harvest since 1995.

A selection of poems is included here:

State of Mind
By Desi Ricardo Sykes

State of Mind
State of Mind
State of Mind

It does not surprise me few of us have remained men, in the eyes of the man we exist as animals
Human beings reduced to mindless creatures, regressed to slinging their own feces to vent their frustration
While being robbed of their humaneness

As I wade through the human destruction of shattered minds, broken spirits, lost dreams, and fears that are afraid to cry out
My soul raises against the handcuffs, chains and shackles I have been bound and held captive with
Each day my mind a step closer … to slipping into the abyss
Black rage

State of Mind
State of Mind
State of Mind

I am being pushed, shoved and told to move on
As I shuffle to keep from stumbling past the bars, balance is regained
Brown eyes searching our mind, connection made
No words spoken, but the message is loud and clear:
One day at a time bro, One day at a time bro
Because like I said, few of us remain

Led through sterile hallways, displayed to be perceived as a hostile entity
Dragged and drugged upstairs and downstairs, tier to tier, cell to cell
Bodies combine, forced together, crushed and crowded
Sweaty aroma lingers like fall all within these prison walls
Stale cigarette smoke, radios blaring, tvs flashing
Screams and shouts, verbal abuse, physical battery
Just avoid the pain of this reality

State of Mind
State of Mind
State of Mind

Steel seats during plexiglass visits, as if I am a danger to my own family
Mind games played, subliminal, yet detrimental.
Numbers dialed to make a collect call, before you can even acknowledge me a computerized voice reminds you I am an inmate.
As if you or I could possibly forget
I remain behind these walls and not there

As I gaze out my window through screens and pencil sized holes, the act of conditioning is crystal clear:
Projects to prison — there is no difference
Police swarm the hood
Guards patrol prison corridors
Playgrounds made of steel and concrete
Klink, Klink
Money, Money, Money
In your face kid
State of Mind

The Night God Forgave Me
By Samuel Moore

When I was on the streets
I lived as a king
Even though I sold drugs
Murder was my thing
Motivated by this twisted high
That no drug could supply
And the fear of being one of the weak
Is what kept me at my peak
I often prided myself on not having to be a petty thief
In order to survive on the mean streets
But when I pumped that steel
It was someone's precious life I would steal
So it was into my pride that I lied.

Recalling that night that changed it all
I had to open this cat up with some silent heat
And when his body hit the ground his blood cried out, God, avenge me.
For the first time in my life did the words of my prey linger in my mind
Sending an electric chill down my spine
Afraid of God's wrath my soul cried out, God forgive me

The beast enrage at my choice to be free
Labeled me one of the weak
And put a bounty out for the recapture of me
Unto the hunters who now see me as the prey
And plot to steal when my body conceals
I say strap up because its not going to be easy
Oh yes beast I know there be some days that you get the best of me
But God's grace shall keep me in perfect peace
Reminding me through Christ Jesus I already had the victory
Because the night that I prayed God forgave me

 

If you are interested in obtaining a copy of Harvest, the
tri-annual Prose and Cons poetry collection, please write to:

Bill Carhart
Prose & Cons Poetry Workshop
P.O. Box 861
Trenton, NJ 08625-0861