This is the dramatic dialog of MajorMigraine and the Crazy 8’s...
Let me introduce the crew. In no particular but the block order:
Pumpkin-head Puente, Raul the Rabbit, King David,
Little Ricky, Testy Tyrone, DJ the Dasher and Don Juan.
(also featuring Father Frankie, Gringo Gomez, lil’Lopez,
Molesto, Danielson and Rastafyin’ Ralphy)
             
You know how they say, if you ever go to prison,
you should act crazy, as to scare off the others?
Well, I’m not too worried about the other inmates,
but I do enjoy screwing with the cops.
When they stripped me down and told me to cough, I sneezed.
They ruffled me up and stuck me in my own cell downstairs.
I spent a few days preaching at the top of my lungs
and when they finally moved me on up,
I was placed in Protective Custody (PC)
with the rest of cell block 3E, ‘The Crazy 8’s’.
Although the times were crazy, I want to skip the insanity
and connect the fantasy with reality.
Just in the door, DJ loaned me a collection of short stories titled
‘Nightmares and Dreamscapes’.
There was a massive amount of coincidences
connecting the King’s collection, to our conversations,
to my own literary legacy, including a ’78 Plymouth,
self-fulfilling prophesy, free will, fluoride
and a mountain called ‘Destiny’.
( PS: The toothpaste had double the regular content of fluoride )
( And weighed exactly 78 grams)
             
My latest stay in Mexico featured a number of films.
A favorite was ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’.
I was quite touched by their take on time,
and story 4 or 5 or so dealt with time travel.
A man had returned to the past to visit his previous self.
He let himself know he was the author of his own life
and was about to take over his younger body.
That same afternoon, as he retired, the Rabbit call out to me,
“Jerry, wake me up in three days.”
Later, I happened to be noticing the TV screen
on the other side of the divide.
I saw the word ‘DREAM’, a few flashes of the screen
and then the phrase ‘WAKE UP!’
The day continued, until the night fell and finally, I fell asleep.
I’m running. Been at it for a bit.
And I just know I’ve been here before.
Coming on out of a corridor. Passing a cafeteria or something.
Crossing the café’s corner, from behind I feel a spy.
I turn around and realize a man I recognize.
I greet the guy (him and his friend), “Great to see you again.
Follow me!” And around I spin.
AW Crap! I triggered a trap. And I already know that.
Even before I look down.
I step over the wire in site and take a quick right.
As I enter the next room, I see the tops of trees to the left me.
I’m on a balcony. It’s overlooking a visitor’s area,
and a large pane of glass separates me from the outside world.
I notice that my friend’s gone on ahead and as I approach,
I whisper, “They’re coming. Get down!”
I pull a silver revolver from my left coat pocket,
duck behind a blockade and stare through a hole.
Two armed men enter from the right on the balcony
on the opposite side of the open area.
The man in front is dressed in plain clothes,
while the second is wearing a nice black suit.
The front man glances my way and I hold his attention,
as an incredible fear takes him over.
His lower lip trembles,
and he forces his weapon
into the hands of his follower.
The glass walls prevent any sound, but I can read his lips,
“Take it! Please, just take it from me. I don’t even want it.”
I see confusion on the face of the suit and when the head turns,
I stand, take aim and pull the trigger.
A black dot immediately appears on the man’s forehead
and prior to the body hitting the ground,
the first fellow in line is also taken down.
I then turn 90º to the left and count to three.
A man dressed as a police officer is shot dead in the door way,
before he’s even had time to turn.
The movie continues to its conclusion and as I awake,
music is still playing in my mind.
Along with the repeated chorus,
♫ We get to go back to where we’ve been before. ♫
 
 
I’ll be providing a detailed interpretation of this dream.
But first, I want to ‘WAKE UP!’
Step 1. We admitted we were powerless -
that our lives had become unmanageable.
I’d read (just before my incarceration) that people
with a high IQ tend to sleep less. And perhaps it’s true, 
because a good half of the crew didn’t sleep much at all.
And the night of what I’m labeling
‘The Wicked Dream’
was my first decent doze in days.
Step 2. Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves
could restore us to sanity.
It was the beginning of three days and three nights
of light sleep and deep dreams.
And although I don’t remember much of the sleep,
it was on the forth morning, that I woke up.
Step 3. Made a decision to turn our lives
over to the care of that Greater Power.
In the final few moments, as I aroused to apprehension,
I heard voices.
I was aware I was dreaming,
and very aware that I was on the verge of awakening.
Step 4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
And I ‘felt’ the exact instant crossing from one side to the other,
when I became conscious that the voices in my dream
were coming from the outside.
Step 5. Admitted to God, ourselves and another,
the exact nature of our wrongs.
It was 3 a.m. and two of the crew were conversing quietly.
Step 6. Were ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
I remembered what was said before and after coming to,
but I had nothing with or on which to take notes
and the meaning was lost..
Step 7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
Hours later, I received an interesting assistance in the analysis.
Step 8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed
and became willing to make amends.
I borrowed a small Bible,
and it automatically opened to Psalms 78.
Step 9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible.
When I read the chapter, I received no real rush of endorphin.
Step 10. Continued our personal inventory
and when wrong, we promptly admitted it.
But then I had a crazy idea.
I read the Psalm, verse by verse, but in reverse.
Step 11. Sought through prayer & meditation
to improve our conscious contact with God;
That’s when I noticed verse #65,
Praying for knowledge of His will
‘Then the Lord awoke as from sleep.
and the power to carry that out.
As a warrior wakes from the stupor of wine.’
Step 12. Having had a spiritual awakening
as the result of these steps,
we tried to carry this message to others
and to practice these principles in all affairs.
 
 
Because of the complicated nature of this story,
I’ll be twisting the time-line, perhaps into a pretzel.
But prior to putting the puzzle, let’s add one more piece.
A Sherlock Holmes’s mystery involving four possible suspects, 
one guilty party and a green eyed cat.
             
The three victims in my dream each represent a possible prisoner,
a sin, a cell and/or a spirit.
I am using the word ‘sin’. You may substitute the word
with ‘weakness’, ‘fault’ or ‘personality trait’.
When I say sin, I am expressing a concept
which causes disharmony within one’s self or society.
In the doctrine of ‘Alcoholics Anonymous’,
they claim that the alcohol is not the problem,
but rather a ‘sickness of the mind’ causing the addiction.
Although the organization is somewhat religious,
for the most part, it’s group therapy.
And although prison is often operated as a money making system,
for the most part, it’s group therapy.
A number of my mates would describe this place as rehab,
or a place of healing.
In fact, the location of the wicked dream
was that of a mental hospital.
The three victims of my dream (the three sins)
represent three psychological deficiencies.
To determine these sins,
I had to compare the victims of my dream to my fellow inmates.
As my time in captivity continued, I began to see
certain similarities in the people passing.
Eventually, I became vigilant that the victims
may have involved a ‘spirit’ residing in each cell.
             
Let’s get started with the second victim of my dream,
as his defect was the easiest to detect.
When the 1st two men entered, the one in front,
at seeing my face, was scared stiff.
His ‘sin’ was ‘fear’. This could be described as
a lack of confidence or perhaps, a lack of faith.
Fear creates prejudice and mistrust,
prevents one from doing what’s right,
can hinder a crowd from fighting back
and allows bullies to dominate their victims.
Inmate #3, ‘Little Ricky’ was by far, the wildest of the bunch.
He was always worried that the other inmates
were going to attack him or his family outside.
and because of this, he was constantly screaming
and accusing everyone of lying.
The rest of the crew kept telling me (and themselves)
that the man was simply out of his gourd.
But I don’t much accept ‘crazy’ and almost every time
he would yell at me, calling me a liar,
I could see how it would correspond to a false idea in my mind
(listening to the others tell their tales).
It’s as if the man could hear the voice in my head.
When he would yell at my roommates, it would often appear
that he was reading their minds as well.
I think this phenomenon may have something to do
with the ‘thought police’ of Orwell’s ‘1984’.
I will admit however, Ricky was considerably crazy,
having no control whatsoever over his anger.
And strangely, he would often ask,
“If I’m already dead, then how am I still hearing you?”
             
Around 2am one morning, I was reading Steven King’s story
‘You Know They Got a Hell of a Band’.
The author mentioned a ‘dead girl from Texas’,
and then I saw the line ‘All my exes live in Texas’.
I looked over at Little Ricky lying in bed
and called out to the old man, from within my head:
I wish you’d say something. A sign, so it’s true.
The ‘dead girl from Texas’; That’s talking about you.
At which point, Ricky reached up (with his right hand)
to scratch his nose.
             
In Laredo, TX, there’s an old two-story building
called ‘the white house’. They say it’s haunted.
They finally cemented the openings but a few years ago,
you could enter through a back window.
Some kid showed me the place one time and that evening,
I returned to camp out.
I cleared the trash in a room upstairs
and laid down some carpet I’d discovered outside.
It was pretty comfortable, and I slept well but in the early AM,
I had a dream.
I was walking through a desert area and came upon an old saloon
(complete with swinging doors).
I reached up, knocked down some dirt and revealed the name
‘La Casa del Sol’.
I entered the establishment and it was filled with spirits,
and not just the alcohol.
I figured they were ghosts of a previous clientele
and I walked around the bar for only a few seconds,
before I was awoken by three loud knocks on the door downstairs.
 
 
♫ He said travel anywhere your life takes you. ♫
Years ago, in Oregon, I read a book called ‘Half Empty, Half Full’.
One experiment involved two groups of rats and two buckets of water,
containing just enough liquid that the rats were forced to swim.
In the center of one container, there was a small platform.
♫ Who is the clown? ♫
If discovered, it would allow the animal to stand on its toes,
allowing air to reach its nose.
♫ Who is the fool? ♫
For each of the two test groups, the mice were forced to swim
until they passed out.
♫ Which one knows to his bling? ♫
Naturally, the team with the platform was able to fight for life longer.
♫ And which one is lost in the game? ♫
But then the swimmers switched, and the results were reversed.
♫ This world ain’t a wasteland. ♫
The group of rodents who had no platform the first time,
did not even seem to notice it on the second occasion.
♫ It just taste that way some times. ♫
However, many of the mice who’d utilized the platform in round one
paddled on even further during the second time around;
♫ It depends on the angle, ♫
Searching for an island of support that wasn’t even there.
♫ On how you read your lines. ♫
             
During week three, the Dasher was removed, because...
How do I put this subtly?
DJ had in his possession, two bottles of a certain brown substance.
The term ‘dashing’ refers to one inmate throwing water at another.
DJ didn’t like to use water.
I’m not getting into what happened,
but he was relocated to his own private chambers.
The man was disturbed but for the most part, he was cool.
I do not believe he was in the dream.
I believe DJ was the green eyed cat and when he moved out,
the Gringo moved in.
Both Gomez and I had boisterous voices and one afternoon,
we were not at all having a quite conversation.
From me, Little Ricky was across the hall
and for no good reason at all, he decided to dash me.
I simply backed up to the opposite wall, just out of the water’s reach.
He was doing no more than wetting the floor and at first,
I made fun but after a moment or two,
I began giving the old guy his due,
thanking him profusely for saving my life.
Over the last few months, I’d been losing composure,
letting my anger get the best of me.
I’d recently read a line,
‘If you don’t control your temper, your temper will control you.’
I was thanking Little Ricky for helping me open my eyes to that truth.
Ricky quickly relaxed and within hours, he was released
and replaced by ‘Father Frankie’.
I’ll not have much to say about Frankie, until he moved to cell #1
but when he did, he was succeeded by a dirty, long-haired fella
named Rastafyin’ Ralphy.
This one played his part very well
and kept mentioning my making of the movie ‘Ocean’s Eleven’.
He was always responding to my thoughts
but seemed to be oppressed, more than possessed.
He was constantly coughing.
Dry heaving like he was trying to get something out of his throat.
Perhaps the man was fighting against the ghost’s possession.
 
 
During another experiment,
two groups of humans were to compose a phrase 50 times.
One wrote ‘I’m glad I have (this).’ While the other, ‘I wish I had (that).’
Then the testers took a survey, asking each person various questions
regarding their personal past, present and future;
and the answers were affected by their moods.
The ‘haves’ were happy.
They found fond memories of days of old and had high hopes.
However, the ‘have nots’ were not.
They saw sadness and figured on failure for the future.
             
I’ll move on to the next victim very soon but first,
I want to describe Casper, the crazy ghost in cell #3.
Of the original eight, there were a few at which Ricky never yelled.
As far as I could tell, Raul the Rabbit was innocent.
I claim that he could hurt a fly and will not place him at this time.
Don Juan arrived at the same time as myself. I took cell #7. He took #8.
He had a little trouble letting go of the smoke, but was a pretty good kid.
He’d recently begun reading the Bible
and was well on his way to a ‘spiritual recovery’.
Intelligent and calm, he never argued and for the most part,
he was able to follow the points I made.
He even requested that I direct all ‘spiritual questions’ towards him.
The youngster never had answers but by his listening skills,
I was able to find them from within myself.
In this little play on life, he was John the Baptist,
the ‘old friend’ who first appeared in my dream.
The Don moved on, I moved from cell #7 to #8
and he was replaced by lil’Lopez.
When I re-met that first character in my dream,
I greeted ‘him and his friend’.
The friend played only a tiny part in the dream
and disappeared right after I took the quick right.
On the block, the corresponding character was in cell #3.
King David was one of my favorite members of the crew,
as he reminded me of Arthur Jr. in Mexico.
A victim of epilepsy since early childhood,
‘Kevin’ would often yell out randomly.
Our friendship was the obvious reason for the love received
so freely from his father.
Inmate #3 was very similar to Kevin
in that David was constantly calling out randomly.
             
The Half Empty/Half Full philosophy is part of the plot of ‘Plato’s Cave’.
The delusion of a defining failure is a personally plotted prison
and if a person is unable to penetrate the walls of a rickety reasoning,
they will never realize a world outside their own mind made misery.
And a toddler raised right, untouched and in tune,
provided with tons of toys and a silver spoon,
may never understand the sad song of a man,
sleeping in the streets and living to mouth from hand.
             
Once David was released, he was replaced
by an delightfully delighted dude named Danielson.
The following was recorded during that day:
“It’s so cool man, you’ve been writing the story since the beginning.”
He calls me M&M. About an hour ago they moved him in.
Similar to David, but not so random.
He’s much more outspoken, his randomness makes more sense
and he ignores everyone but me.
He says the reason he had to test me
is because he wants to introduce something new.
I think:   What’s new?
And he answers,   “Free cars. Free ride.”
He says we’re creating our own lives with our own info.
Rabbit walks up and he says, “Hey Leo.”
Says he’s love. Rabbit says he hates him.
Says he can explain, but he likes to keep secrets.
Says that it’s being recorded, “M&M rapping in his super suit.”
I hear him say something about something, and think:
What does quantum mechanics have to do with time travel?
“Do you want me to cut you? In past, present and future?
You’re in the dark two generations later.”
He mentioned “seven months and getting tired of this head virus.”
“You need to keep to yourself, ‘cause if M&M doesn’t punch you,
you’re gonna keep lying to yourself, lying in jail.”
He’s bringing sexy back. It’s called brain-right. Good thoughts all day.
I guess he took Peter Pan pretty seriously.
I think my pen in running out of in...
 
 
After Danielson was released, arrived a crazy vet named Molesto.
Immediately, I heard him mumbling.
The next morning, the guards tapped on his window.
When he didn’t respond, they dragged him downstairs to suicide watch.
Now as far as I’m concerned, the tapping is torture.
They do a roll call half a dozen times a day.
And if someone doesn’t answer, they’ll beat on the window until he’s awake.
Sometimes, they tap on a window for nothing and run away,
as soon as the inmate turns.
They even enjoy flashing lights through the windows,
disturbing the sleepers’ peaceful slumber.
This torture technique was actually mentioned in the Steven King novel.
I stopped answering the roll call,
a guard tapped on my window and I flipped him off.
He gave me a little ‘shave and a haircut’, and they never tapped again.
Later, when it was time for ‘lista’,
I’d recite various 9-11/911 speeches, until they moved on.
             
Speaking of the Eleventh of September.
✟Revelation 12:1-3 And a great sign appeared in heaven,
a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet,
and on her head a crown of 12 stars; and she was with child,
and she cried out, being in labor pains to give birth.
And another sign appeared in heaven; a great red dragon
having seven heads and 10 horns,
and on his heads were seven diadems. ✟
Dr. Ernest L. Martin shows in his book,
‘The Star of Bethlehem: The Star that Astonished the World’:
The signs in the sky, Shown in Revelation 12:1-3,
Occurred on September 11, 03 BC.
The waxing sliver of a New Moon appears under the feet of Virgo,
Who is now “clothed with the sun” shining brightly in her belly,
With Mercury and Venus at her head.
If we consider the nine bright stars of Leo at and above her head,
Along with the planets Jupiter, Venus and Mercury, 
We have an exact match to the description.
             
So I been thinking about thoughts.
Good, bad, racing, sexy, sadistic, self-involved and soul searching.
In chapter six I wrote ‘It was a scream’ to tell a story
for which I could not otherwise find the words.
I am yet unable to explain those images and sensations even though,
but I’ve recreated the experience without the help of hallucinogens.
I will describe one aspect of the act. I was filled with positive energy.
At the very onset of any ideas of fear, sadness, anger or doubt,
I would have the sensation of destroying (or consuming) those ideas.
This was a visualization of something that I’ve learned
through the practice of meditation.
For the most part, that’s all it takes to keep bad times at bay.
And it’s only one way. Another? Just be happy.
They say smiling makes you feel better. And it’s true.
All the happy thoughts and positive energy you need will soon follow.
 
 
The second bad guy in my dream (victim #1) was the man in the suit.
His malady was ‘vanity’, one of ‘Seven Deadly’ from ‘Dante’s Divine’.
These seven are subcategories of the same condition.
They are each a creation of the ego.
An inflated ego places more importance on one’s desires
than on the needs of the greater good.
The crew had informed me that Pumpkin-head Puente
was Brother-in-Law to the District Attorney.
And quite often he would mention his mafia connections,
saying that his family ‘owns Mexico’.
But whether a con, crazy or connected, who cares?
Let’s move on to the uniform.
God, grant me the serenity,
The general purpose of the police is to protect the rights of the people.
However, when any official is capitalized,
the goals of the greater good are often abandoned.
To accept the things I cannot change,
It took time to determine the nature of the beast of victim #3 but,
when the Gringo arrived, the problematic prisoner was obvious.
And the clues came quickly.
The confidence to change the things I can,
I waited three seconds for the third bad guy to show up.
Gomez got there during week three.
The victim was shot down in the door-well
& Gomez was whimpering before even entering the block.
And the wisdom to know the difference,
When in Mexico, if someone doesn’t know my name,
they will often use a racial term.
This is always meant with love, like a man calling his wife ‘mi negra’.
‘Qüero’ means ‘white guy’, but a more popular title for me is ‘gringo’.
They say the term originated when the US army
came down to steal Texas from Mexico,
and that it refers to the green military uniforms:
‘Verde Va’ = ‘Green Go’ = ‘Gringo’.
I don’t think the fellows fighting at the Alamo were wearing green,
but that’s what they say.
Gomez wasn’t even white, but he was military.
In fact, he was a security officer for the Air Force.
The guy was filled with anger and had the hugest ego.
I’ve never met a man so self-righteous.
But even after making the connection,
I was still having a hard time discerning the sin.
Living one day at a time,
Help was received in another dream.
I was sitting at a computer playing solitaire when suddenly, 
I was being pushed away from the desk in a wheelchair,
as the nurse patted me on the shoulder.
I wasn’t really playing cards. It was a fantasy.
Enjoying one moment at a time,
That day, while we argued, Gomez made the statement,
“What if I hadn’t called myself a cop? What if I called myself a nurse?”
And the comprehension came in cashing.
Like I said, the location of the wicked dream was that of a hospital.
I thought of the victim not as a crooked cop,
but a patient pretending to be a nurse,
and I realized that in Gomez’s fantasy he’s wasn’t a prisoner,
he was still an officer.
Accepting hardship, as a pathway to peace.
Although not one as much as the Gringo,
the inmates would battle to regulate the block.
this can be directly related to the way in which 
people obsess with running their own lives,
and are miserable when things don’t go exactly as they want.
 
 
Them guys are living in a dream, A nighttime-mare as it would seem,
And all on through the night, They feud & fight,
Can’t even hear their screams.
I do not care about their loss, ‘Cause they think they are their own boss,
And all on through the day, They waste away,
Stuck under their own cross.
How hard it is to open eyes, Guess I’ll ignore the crazy cries,
And move on down the road, Next episode,
Preparing for prime time.
And when it’s finally been forgotten, Root revealed and really rotten,
Guess I’ll find a friend, And try again,
With every eye I’m dottin’.
             
After finishing the short stories, DJ lent me another novel,
‘Under the Dome’.
A small town in Maine has been trapped by an invisible barrier,
and no one can enter or leave.
In the story, many of the children in town have seizures
and yell out prophesy.
One message refers to the ‘Pumpkin King’.
The kids claim that he’s causing all the trouble.
Ricky couldn’t have hated anyone as much as #1
 He was always calling the guy a pumpkin-head. 
A very large man, with a very large head,
Puente often appeared to be acting like a child.
He was very spoiled, always lying
and repeatedly asked the same questions regarding his case.
He’d accrued a number of Styrofoam plates
and placed them betwixt the bars, blocking the view.
I figured it out quickly and ignored him entirely after that.
Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder
characterized by intrusive thoughts that produce
uneasiness, apprehension, fear or worry (obsessions),
and repetitive behaviors aimed at reducing
the associated anxiety (compulsions).
Symptoms include excessive washing or cleaning,
repeated checking, extreme hoarding,
preoccupation with sexual, violent or religious thoughts,
relationship-related obsessions, and rituals such as opening
and closing a door a number of times before walking through.
The acts of those who have OCD may appear paranoid
and potentially psychotic.
Puente did have power with the police,
but all that changed when the Gringo arrived.
He was indeed an ex-cop, but that’s only a small part.
His full name was Miguel Angel Gomez.
I don’t know if he really believed himself to be the Arch Angel,
but he took his name seriously.
When I informed him that Ricky called Puente a pumpkin-head
and that Steven King claimed all the problems
to be the fault of the Pumpkin King,
Gomez really took it to heart and within 24 hours,
the power was distributed. 
Unfortunately, power can corrupt.
             
One line from Danielson was,
“If M&M doesn’t punch you, you’re gonna keep lying to yourself, lying in jail.”
When he said ‘lying to yourself’, he was referring to ‘denial’.
Denial, in ordinary English usage, is asserting that a statement
or allegation is not true. The same word is used
for a psychological defense mechanism postulated
by Sigmund Freud, in which a person is faced with a fact
that is too uncomfortable to accept and rejects it instead,
insisting that it is not true, despite overwhelming evidence.
 
 
Later, Pumpkin-head Puente was released,
and Father Frankie moved from cell #4 to cell #1.
After the move, Gomez and Frankie began battling.
Up until then, they were practically friends.
I figure the problem was primarily positioning.
By the cell’s numbering, the two closest to the door,
and therefore, the two inmates with the most access
and influence with the guards, were cells 1 & 5.
However, inmate #5 tended to ignore the whole ordeal,
and his power was transferred to cell #6.
At first, there was a constant fight between Puente (#1) and DJ (#6).
Later on, the fight was between Frankie (#1) and Gomez (#6).
I say the situation was a simple struggle for strength
but since I’m in to ghost stories right now,
let me talk about that option.
The guards had informed me that the building is haunted,
and that one spirit is of an officer
who’d been struck by lightning outside.
They say the guard’s ghost wonders the halls at night.
I doubt this dead cop has been hanging out all day in cell #6,
but it does make for a neat story.
And that an ex-cop is inhabiting the cell
inhabited by the ghost of an ex-cop,
that’s the stuff a writer’s dreams are made of.
When Frankie moved into cell #1, his attitude quickly changed.
He began hording items (cups, coffee, Kool-Aid and the little bars of soap).
Puente used plates to limit the view
but Frankie would hang his blanket, blocking the entire entrance.
When Father Frankie was released, lil’Lopez moved from cell #7 to cell #1.
             
I do not believe that #5 was in the dream.
Was he was the guilty party? Or perhaps the Pumpkin King?
Testy Tyrone was a smooth talker and also claimed to be a prophet.
At first, I thought he was indeed enlightened
but once I was near enough to pay attention,
I realized that he only preached about such things as ‘the pain in God’s love’.
He’d use words of hatred and racism to anger the others
and though he enjoyed insulting his inmates,
he would scream (and throw his own waste)
when anyone would talk about him.
Part of the problem was in the design of his cell.
There was a small hall leading back to a sleeping area,
located behind the shared shower.
This meant that he could throw things at others,
but the others had no access to dash him back.
This created an overwhelming sense of security, inflaming his ego.
He was also a gringo (ex-Navy) and was deeply in denial,
always lying to himself and others.
After Lopez moved to cell #1, he and Gomez didn’t fight,
but Tyrone began fighting them both.
This resulted in #1 and #6 combining forces and dominating the floor.
All day long, they’d take turns letting each other out,
and no one else would be released to shower.
Fortunately, this lasted only a few days
before the conflict collapsed in a convenient conclusion.
Rasta was released from cell #4, Lopez returned to cell #7
and I took my place in cell #1.
Within another 24 hours, Gomez tucked his tail
retreating all the way back to cell #8.
Finally, with the Major at the helm,
tranquility quickly covered the corny coals,
friendly fellowship finalized the feud,
and powerful peace patiently parted the watery words of war.
             
In the Sherlock Holmes mystery,
Watson solved the crime before the inspector.
One evening, reading my story, I said that he couldn’t hurt a fly
and heard the Rabbit giggle.
Early the next morning, I heard him say,
“Is that a boy or a girl? It looks like a girl.”
I furrowed my forehead but was busy with breakfast,
and didn’t pay much mind to the matter.
After dinner that evening, Rabbit went to the floor
and said it to my face, “You looked like a girl.”
This time, I responded with, “So, you look like a clown.”
As soon as I’d said the words, I knew, for all I knew,
they could be true. And I might still not have a clue.
I looked at the young man with an impressed grin
and stated, “I can’t believe it!”
He smiled back and said, “Don’t be mad.”
Now, without a third eyed view inside,
I can’t really say that Raul turned out to be Watson
but shortly afterword, he handed me an image
that he and lil’Lopez had drawn together.
The cartoon suggested that the pumpkin-headed Pumpkin King
was no more than a scarecrow.
 
 
There’s a scarecrow included in the MGM film ‘The Wizard of OZ’.
In the movie, based on books by L. Frank Baum, the scarecrow has no brains.
Even by the character’s somewhat ludicrous movements,
if the film had no volume,
you might not apprehend that a lack of intelligence was the issue.
You might even think the character to be crazy.
But I guess you’d have to be crazy
to watch the movie with the sound turned down.
Unless you weren’t interested in ‘The wizard of OZ’,
but ‘The Dark Side of the Rainbow’.
This is accomplished by loading Pink Floyd’s ‘Dark Side of the Moon’
and hitting play on the third road of the MGM lion starting the movie.
You kill the volume on the wizard and enjoy some amazing synchronicities.
When Dorothy lands in OZ and opens the door into the incredible land,
you’ll hear a cash register’s ka-ching, ka-ching, as ‘Money’ begins to play.
When the scarecrow shows up, you’ll reach the title track of the album
and hear him described as ‘the lunatic’ both ‘on the grass’ and ‘in my head’.
The most amazing moment in the cinematic display of the Wizard of OZ
is of a door opening from a world of black and white, into that of vivid color.
The album cover for Dark Side of the Moon features a prism,
white light entering from the left, and a rainbow exiting right.
             
The color black is the result of the complete absence/absorption of visible light.
White light, apparently colorless, contains all the wavelengths of the visible spectrum.
Black is often used symbolically to represent darkness, while white represents light.
             
Good and evil are opposite sides of the same coin, metaphorically black and white.
Often, the 3rd option of gray (the edge of the coin) goes unrequited when in fact,
there is not one, not even 50, but infinite shades of grey along that round edge.
             
♫ All that you touch; And all that you see;
All that you taste; All you feel; 
And all that you love; And all that you hate;
All you distrust; All you save;
And all that you give; And all that you deal;
And all that you buy; Beg, borrow, or steal;
And all you create; And all you destroy;
And all that you do; And all that you say;
And all that you eat; And everyone you meet;
And all that you slight; And everyone you fight;
And all that is now; And all that is gone;
And all that’s to come;
And everything under the sun is in tune; 
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon. ♫
             
Grey is a combination of black and white, a combination of light and darkness.
The color white is a combination of all colors.
Accordingly, along the corrugated edge of a black and white coin;
There are an infinite number of shades of an infinite number of colors.
 
 
So I guess it was about a few months ago,
While traveling to the City of Mexico,
I was working a truck stop on the 57;
 
I was pushing my fliers and books,
For fun and/or rides giving looks,
When a wheeler willed weed, Straight from heaven;
 
I decided it was time for a break,
Hide from the hot sun and get baked,
And to the edge of the lot I went walking;
 
Where I discovered a dude at his truck,
Like he was waiting for me, just my luck,
And as I got to smoke, we got to talking;
 
To my mind and himself he kept whispering,
In a mental world of words she was listening,
It was another hot and heavy host for ghosts;
 
With some time he put in a CD,
They were the Rolling Stones’ MP3s,
And I was asked if I could translate, Just a dose;
 
I did a pretty crappy job from the first,
And not from missing understanding of the words,
But because they came to me as a surprise;
 
I swear to God that of the plot, I was the subject,
Ears glued, tongue tied, I couldn’t budge it,
And by the meaning my mind was mesmerized;
 
He gave on up after a fail or few,
And while we chatted, he let a song play through,
When that one ended, I swear it was insane;
 
The next in line (right on time) 78,
The title ‘MAN’ (as in the son of) was displayed,
It was the musical biography of MajorMigraine;
 
When all was said and done, desiring dinner,
My friend and I into a restaurant entered,
He ordered tacos, I asked for coffee and gave my pitch;
 
It’s as if she didn’t even know I’d spoken,
Be it a sin, yet once again, my heart was broken,
I rolled my eyes and gave a sigh, But couldn’t bitch;
 
I’d had enough, I gave it up, I took a sit,
Inside my head the voice shut up and bit by bit,
I noticed that my new friend was the only movement;
 
Every other body in the crowd,
Just stared ahead like they were waiting for a bow,
They fixed their eyes on me, And stopped what they were doing;
 
My friend was looking (with a smile) back and forth,
And to the crowd (aloud and proud) he did report,
“Sin Dios, Estamos parados.”
 
They all went actively agreeing with their Sí’s,
Until their gazes dumbfound returned to me,
The guy took one last look around and asked the crowd,
“Y el diablo?”
 
 
 
 
It’s November the 8th, 2014; My worst birthday ever.
I was listening to the newest #2, contemplating on a conclusion:
He told the crew his name was Larry, but he also calls himself the devil.
He calls me ‘Jesus Christ’. I just had the thought:
Maybe he only calls me Jesus, because I kinda call myself that in my mind.
And he yelled in anger, “NO! They call you Jesus!
That’s what they called you.”
The next day, he moved to cell #7 and the Queen of England arrived.
She said something about not paying attention, and so I did.
Immediately, I heard,
“I’ve been trying to get you to work on your temper for some time.”
A phrase has been often repeated on a local radio station,
‘Escapa de lo que puedes, si puedes.’
I believe that’s why I’m in jail, to escape.
At the end of my first week downstairs, I made a decision.
As I laid me down to sleep, after breaking my fast,
I quietly stated this decision to myself,
“I am going to take a nap and when I awake, I will be released from prison.”
I know now, as I know I knew then,
that I wasn’t referring to the building in which I’m held captive,
but a prison of my mind’s making, in which my happiness is held.
             
November 10 (Day 78) ~ My trial begins today
(or rather tomorrow, I guess I’ll say).
And by the way, I’d no idea that this was day 78, until I’d written the number.
According to Guinness World Records;
The corruption in southern Texas compares to the 3rd world.
I’ve never been to prison in the 3rd world. I can’t say how it compares.
But I’ve not seen such neglect.
The guards here seem to purposefully allow
the worsts of the prisoners to run the block.
And when they act up, everyone gets punished.
Just last week, we went three days without water.
I’m going to make an official request to be moved and tomorrow,
I’m declaring a hunger strike.
I’ll not eat or drink anything, until released from prison
or at least removed from cell-block 3E.
I’ve been planning this protest for a while,
but it really all began weeks ago.
During the same day, they brought in two problem children.
First was a man they called Detroit.
He moved into cell #4 and was the craziest combo of Ricky and the Rasta.
Extremely loud and angry, he was always yelling at the guards and inmates.
He complained about everything, late into the evening
and starting again at the crack of dawn.
And if a man made a peep, while he was trying to sleep,
he would throw things.
Then they brought the Joker into cell #2,
his clown face permanent, inked in blue.
He didn’t yell (much) but would steal food,
and threw more crap than anyone so far.
After a week, they removed Joker (during a particularly messy moment),
and Detroit took over cell #2.
Within a day, done with the dashing, I begged to me removed from the block,
but the ‘best they could do’ was to move me to the other side of the room.
I guess all he wanted was a win, and it went well enough for a weekend,
but then, Detroit was released, the Joker moved back in,
and the food-napping began again.
This morning, when the mail arrived, I thought I heard my name,
but I received no gift and soon afterwards, 
inmate #5 announced a letter from his “Aunt Becky” (and Tyrone did tease).
I didn’t think the thievery had really happened
but with the craziness and neglect in 3E,
it’s hard enough to contact the outside,
and even more difficult to get it done on the in.
I put up a sign declaring the hunger strike
and within minutes, a guard was writing the message.
I turned on the radio and heard,
♫ I know what I’m doing. Talk about a revolution. ♫
That evening, when I was out to take my shower,
I made a prisoner request to be ‘reclassified’
and officially announce my peaceful protest.
This was when Tyrone showed me the envelope.
His lawyer’s name was ‘Beckie’.
I explained that I didn’t really think he’d stolen my Aunt’s letter,
but the very idea was what needed to push me to take the next step.
And finally, to tie up the night with a nice little bow,
Tyrone was released to go home.
 
 
(Day 79) ~ Along with last night’s declaration,
I also submitted a request for a phone call.
This morning, I made it out first and into cell #5,
protecting me from all dashing.
I’m now comfortable enough to remain in 3E
but don’t want my protest to be a joke.
So I’ve added a note.
As long as I get my phone call, I’ll cancel the strike.
I’m starting slow, moderating my metabolism,
by eating a few bites a day at first.
I’ll be down to my morning milk by this weekend
and on Monday, I’ll cut out the milk.
Only minutes before beginning today’s log, I received a sad message:
♫ Murimos juntos. ♫
             
(Day 80) ~ Lunch has come and gone, and I’ve eaten my measly bite,
while overhearing another nasty, stupid, stolen food fight.
I just wish they’d do their jobs, so I didn’t have to do mine.
I’ll cut out the coffee tomorrow.
I was lying here now, thinking to myself
about what might be the end of my actions.
Will I really be dying for humanity, or will this be a revolution of the mind,
in which I’ll find food and water to be virtually unneeded.
Suddenly, I heard the mariachi in the room singing:
♫ Al fin que no te vas a ver sed. ♫
I turned on the radio and heard:
♫ God is love and all I need ♫
To be honest, I feel no hunger whatsoever.
             
(Day 82) ~ The music keeps letting me know that everything’s good to go.
♫ Don’t believe me, just watch. ♫
I just can’t believe it’s taken this long. For a phone call.
Something I’m supposed to receive anyway.
A few minutes ago, I decided to trade a couple of pieces of paper
for half a cup of coffee.
I didn’t really want the stimulant but figured, why not?
As soon as it was gone, I wanted more.
That’s the point of the mariachi’s message.
Don’t give into temptations, and temptations won’t tempt.
Weeks ago, I’d created a cartoon of a tall white rabbit in a prisoner uniform.
It included the caption, ‘Silly Inmates, Kool-Aid’s for Kids.’
Anytime the guards are angry,
they cut off the Kool-Aid as punishment.
Personally, I don’t drink the stuff,
but I have occasionally caved for cause of the crave for coffee.
Once all worldly desires have been removed,
there’s nothing the world can do to control you.
‘Al fin, no te vas a ver sed.’
Apparently, the final result of this fight, will be freedom.
             
♫ Después de la tormenta, El amor es el que cuenta. ♫
             
(Day 84) ~ They stuck a new neighbor across from Larry,
and he blew up at the man of many.
I tried to calm the kid, telling him not to take it too personally.
That Larry can’t control it.
That the Queen of England, Hitler and the devil
are all in there fighting with each other.
I paused and added, I think Jesus is supposed to be in there too.
Suddenly, Larry began yelling at me,
pointing a finger in my face, “NO! You are not in here!”
             
(Day 85) ~ It’s Monday morning for what should be
my final full week in Webb County.
I’ve been hearing many messages lately about canceling my plans.
‘Escapa de lo que puedes.’ ’Be open for anything.’
‘Live in the moment and be free.’
On those notes, I’m canceling the strike.
I’ve gained more control of my hunger and thirst,
I’ve gained more power in this place,
and I’ve done it all on my own terms.
I’ve no real reason to continue, so I’ll quit.
I tore down the signs, turned on the radio and heard a DJ say,
“You can stop wars with that song.”
 
 
(Day 86) ~ Last night, a female guard was talking to one of the inmates.
♫ All the leaves are brown ♫
When I had the chance, I yelled out, “¡Niña! Diga elefante.”
♫ And the sky is grey ♫
She was being very distracted and I couldn’t get her all the way to French,
but Joker got a kick out of the conversation
and has mentioned elephants a number of times.
♫ I’ve been for a walk ♫
As I see an insect walk the wall in front of me, here’s a story,
‘The Ant and the Elephant’
♫ On a winter’s day ♫
An ant, traveling in the desert, hears of an oasis to the west
and wants to reach the paradise.
♫ I’d be safe and warm ♫
A wise old owl pays a visit to let him know,
he’s heading in the wrong direction.
♫ If I was in L.A. ♫
The ant’s on top of an elephant, and the elephant is is aimed east.
♫ California dreaming ♫
However, the owl explains, the ant has control over the elephant’s mind
and with concentration, he’ll go wherever the insect wants
♫ On such a winter’s day ♫
The book explains that the ant represents the reader,
and the elephant is the world.
Rather than struggling, your mind can influence reality
into producing what you want.
It’s another way of saying mind’s over matter.
That our inner thoughts effect the world.
  ♫ You’re the reason I’ve been waiting all  
  these years. Somebody holds the key. ♫  
Every individual is one piece of the puzzle.
Every will is only one piece of the will of mankind.
♫ Stopped into a church, I passed along the way ♫
My mind has dominance over a world of which you are part,
and I am part of that same world, over which your mind has dominance.
♫ Well I got down on my knees, and I pretend to pray ♫
Our wills are part of the universal ‘will of God’,
and reality is dominated by that will.
♫ You know the preacher like the cold ♫
Depending on your individual strength of mind,
a large part of reality is controllable.
♫ He knows I’m gonna stay ♫
The larger piece that is out of control, isn’t chaotic
but being controlled by the will of others.
♫ If I didn’t tell her ♫
Within the big picture, each piece of the puzzle is necessary,
for your will to be accomplished.
♫ I could leave today ♫
The things in life you do not want are there as part of a path
leading to the things that you do.
♫ California dreaming ♫
Hindsight is 20/20 and once you get to where you want to be,
you’ll see that you wanted everything.
♫ On such a winter’s day ♫
 
 
(Day 91) ~ Well, I just lost my job, my home and everything I own.
♫ We’ve all just gotta be, and then we’re free. ♫
Luckily, I have no home, own nothing and this is my job.
♫ It’s like I hear an angel calling in the music. ♫
I scribbled something last night but a roommate said it sounded depressing,
So I guess I’ll try it again.
♫ Sing my love. ♫
I’d written that I found no truth regarding right and wrong.
♫ Tu me puedes ayudar. ♫
But when I’d finished, I turned on the radio and heard:
♫ Esas son puras mentiras. ♫
And it’s true, I was lying when I said I’d learned nothing.
♫ Misery loves company. ♫
I learned that the real root of evil is ego.
♫ And you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone. ♫
And the reason people remain dirty and defiled is because of denial.
♫ Life is what happens while you’re busy making excuses. ♫
I came in steaming and screaming and will be leaving leisurely.
♫ Sí mi amor, he regalado. ♫
And in the middle of a crowd that can’t hear what I say,
I’m able to learn my own lessons and walk away.
♫ Here you are, dancing in the dark. ♫
And as far as the spirit is concerned, here’s what I have:
One morning in cell one, I was thinking to myself about some subject
and I guess I didn’t understand something,
because in a ‘louder’ mental voice, I had the thought:
Wait! That can’t be right.
I caught a quite complaint:
You don’t know anything about the spirit!
And that soft voice disappeared. 
I can not tell you whether or not that quite voice
was coming from a different ‘place’ but whatever it is,
I’m guessing it’s got to be a cricket, here to help become a real live boy.
             
(Day 92) ~ OK, one more freaky note from last night:
Earlier, I was listening to a song,
♫ I know you’re lying, if you’re lips are moving.
Tell me if you think I’m dumb. ♫
Later, thinking about that song, directed at the devil,
Yeah, I think you’re kinda dumb.
And Larry let his out loud, “Please stop insulting me.”
♫ Are we out of the woods yet? ♫
OK, so if all beings are part of the same Being;
But when the being in the artist asked if she was being dumb;
The being in me said, yes;
And by being insulted, Larry’s being asked my being to stop being insulting.
I figure God offended herself.
However, Larry keeps on saying, We are not particle.
I guess there could be gobs of ghosts.
Or there may only be two beings.
(one being black, and the other being yellow)
Or maybe there’s another being outside the two.
Perhaps ‘God’ is beyond good and evil.
The thing is, every man’s left is another man’s right.
Every man’s right is another man’s wrong.
And, disregarding dusk and dawn, during the day,
it’s nighttime for the rest of the world.
The Yin-Yang is a circle, and the two are within the whole.
I wonder what’s outside that circle.
But before we find what’s outside, We’ll have to figure the inside out.
Has help arrived?
The word ‘Christ’ represents the ‘spirit of God’.
The ‘Christ in You’.
The Key Master and the Gate Keeper just got together
and opened a portal to the spirit world.
And I suppose you’d better call someone because apparently;
The dead have returned. They’ve come back as ghost.
In the form of spirit. The form of Christ.
The dead in Christ have risen.