Tag Archives: New Jim Crow art poetry


America’s great war wasn’t the First World War
nor was it the Second
It was civil in nature.
Brother against brother
North against South
In came Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston
to govern the great fort Alcatraz.
Born in Kentucky was he
raised in Texas did he
Roots dug deep in the South
That’s why good ole San Franciscoans had their doubts
That a good ole boy could defend Northern territory
When Confederate President Jefferson Davis was a friend
goes the story
It lead to his removal from this great isle
As rumors of Southern sympathies did they beguile
For the good citizens of the Bay could never reconciliate
That a gentleman of the South could expatriate
So rejected by his Northern brethren he retired to the South
But picked up a Confederate command and died valiantly at the battle of Shiloh
A hundred and fifty years later
I don’t salute you as a foe
because shame on us
for mistrust
of our brethren
must be told.

by C-Note

©2017 Donald”C-Note” Hooker

[Editor’s Note]: No Southern Shall Govern This Isle, is a work that was specifically created for the Art Escape At Alcatraz, prisoner art exhibit on Alcatraz island May-June 2017, sponsored by Prison Art Touching Hearts.
Help P.A.T.H. in their mission of touching hearts through prison art and give a donation.



Rapunzel could let down her hair
because someone cared
Letting down my hair
I wouldn’t dare
So all I do is stare
at the bliss
of all things I miss
Mother Nature’s wonders
Cause Father Time
wants his due
and the world ain’t got a clue
Here I stare alone
in my room
cell block

About the Paintoem
Poem by: Cn
Painting by: Cn

“Mprisond,” is an original work of wax, ink, and graphite on paper. Done by Cn, in 2014. It is the sequel, to another piece “My Dilemma,” done in 2009. Cn was asked to create poetry, around some of his artwork being exhibited at the Escaping Time, Prisoner Art Exhibit, on Governor’s Island, New York City, July 26, 2016-October 2, 2016. Both the poet and we agree, that the image and poem, may be used in conjunction for publication, exhibition, and/or performance, without our expressed permission, so long as the artist-poet, is acknowledged/mentioned, as the creator of these works, e.g., by Cn. This is the genesis of the Paintoem. “Mprisond,” was sold in 2016, at the” Through the Wall,” Prisoner Art Exhibit, at the CB1-Guest Gallery, in downtown Los Angeles. However, you can still buy prints of this piece, and other related products, at Fine Art America

[Editor’s Note ]: This Paintoem, like all Paintoems, are given to the public, to have free use rights, so long as acknowledgement is given to the artist(s).

Links to other Paintoems:
My Dilemma
Tears of the Mothers
Black August-Los Angeles
Life Without the Possibility of Parole
More Paintoems
Related Article:
Help Break Prisoner Art Exhibition Record

More paintings by Cn:
Colored Girl Highlighted


So they dun killed some black boys
that’ll never grow up to be black men.
So you dun had an epiphany

Little black boy
killed in the streets
not guilty verdict
a jury did reach
Teary-eyed sista
signed off on Facebook that day
these final words, she had to say

I know black folks
didn’t think
George Zimmerman
was the final chapter
Cause a young boy in Missouri
got killed
to show you
Black Lives Don’t Matter.

Presidential Election
now these women all in a tuff
Who dey think they is
calling out Hillary Clinton
that ain’t enough.

Bill Clinton’s Crime Bill was passed 22 years ago
So where have you been?
You just now dun figured out
black men
been languishing
in these pens?

I say It Must End!”
and I swear I mean it too
cause it’s year twenty two
and I still ain’t got no letter from you.

Come on Sistas
y’all out there
loud mouth protesting
But you ain’t talking to me
you talking to them.

When I hear dem women speak
let my men free
Y’all make good sound bites
in dem public squares
But alone
in my prison cell
your voice is not there.

You can Instagram, Tweet, and Facebook all day
But when it comes to really giving bac
writing a letter
you have nothing to say

You’re speaking to the media
and whoever will listen
about what have you done
wit our men
you know
the ones locked up
in the pen

Now he’s been down thirty
just twenty-two
Now I don’t know
What you got going on
but I never heard from you

When was the last time
you sat down and wrote him a letter?
I know he dun sent you five
and you still ain’t got bac
with some jive.

Where all the Sistas in the V.I.?
Just Snow Bunnies and Latinas
supportin your men
So the question gots to be asked
Where Have Y’all Been?

When I see a Sista
I can’t laugh
I can’t cry
All I can do
is die inside

For twenty long years
I ain’t never been
One of these Sistas

Let alone
one of dey Lovers

You ain’t never seen me
up in the V.I.
Wit one of dem Sistas
who be lookn so fly

So you damn right
I’m bitter
Wit a Heart so cold
Colder than Sister Souljah’s
Coldest Winter

Cause where all these Black Women been
Since they dun hauled all us men
to the pen

Ain’t nayer a Sista
ever wrote me a letter
never gave me a chance
if I had words to say
to make her life better

But you won’t put paper to pen
Cause a real friend
you might find in the end

Just a bunch of lonely Black Men
dying for communion
without kin

A message to the Black Woman
come heal a Brotha
I know you think
your protesting and marching
is something true
But Black Women
ain’t writing Black Brothas
and that has meaning too

Some Brothas don’t care
you’re just now coming
late to the party
But I do
alone in my room
longing for a Shawty

Cause each year
tops the year before
of prisoner exonerations
Ain’t making excuses for the
but ain’t all convictions
real you see

25 years to  life
for stealing aspirin
for a teething daughter
getting more time
than committing manslaughter

So you’re just now discovering
Black Men are locked
and you wanna protest
Am I supposed to be impressed?
I’m depressed

Some men
in the pen
have been driven
to psyche meds
cause Black Women
dun left us for dead
I’ve chosen another route
So let it be said
in the verses
you’ve read
It Must End!

by Cn

Editor’s NoteTo read another epic poem by this poet, check out: THE CRIMINALIZATION OF OUR AMERICAN CIVILIZATION (This Is Not A Manifesto)


Brought into this whimsical world, by a powerful force unknown
Skillfully crafted from mud and a miracle, came to be flesh and bone….
And into my breath was given, along with a heart and a soul
A one-of-a-kind creation so eloquent, that is surely broke the mold….
And though not the first of many, is still unique in every possible way
So that even after my inevitable death, a legacy would undoubtedly remain….
Alas at war with love, or at war for love seems to be the purpose in question
With an answer only to be found at the end of my journey, is the very reason I’m still guessing….
Do I follow the path, or manifest my own and accept what should ever come to be
And if not then what good is the life I lead, if it wasn’t to be led by me….
It’s no secret I’ve made my mistakes, much like an angel stripped of his wings and that has fallen from grace
His penalty, tossed back to earth or in my case a steel cage counting down the rest of our days where are judgement awaits….
Humbled but not defeated, is exactly then that I’ve discovered just Who I am
In spirit I’m more than human But in your eyes….
I’m Only A Man

by Square Cuz


Who am I?
The cool calm and collected kid wit hoop dreams?
The innocent kid wandering through the concrete jungle watching the flashing red and blue lights from police sirens as they give chase to the up and coming Hood stars?
Who am I?
The young boy looking up to Lil Sc60by and holding onto his every word wanting to be just like him?
The kid that traded his hoop dreams to become a R6llin Sixty Crip like Boo Manuel NewHouse Uncle C•Dog Lil Fee Peanut Blacx Mouse Big U Baby Wino and so many more?
Who am I?
The teenager kid that stays fly chasen paper in and out of jail? Becoming a young tiny loc line presser?
Who am I?
The 18 year old kid fresh out of Y.A. from doing 3 years and 6 months feeling like the world owes me?
Who am I?
The 18 year old young nigga that just passed for six figures?
Buying expensive jewlry fly whips in out the club drugged up?
Who am I?
They hot head kid that popped his blower over his chain?
Who am I?
The kid facing murder charges that didn’t stick?
The kid that thought he was untouchable having money?
Who am I?
The kid that had to face them murdered charges that I thought I beat?
Who am I?
The kid that took 17 years in the state pen?
Who am I?
The kid that been gone for 13 years that grew into a man?
Who am I?
The man that looked back and realized I wasted my life?
Who am I?
They constantly ask me time and time again?
The man wishing I could turn back the hands of time so I could tell that cool calm and collective innocent kid to follow his hoop dreams?
Who am I?
The man wishing I could go back.

written by Sauce


I move to the sounds of an acoustic storm


Making love to the percussion of every rain drop…


In my pin stripe suit, and my wing tipped shoes


I jive to the grooves of the melodies tunes…


With thunder clap bass drums, and wind like flutes.


My heart is torn between the worlds of rhythm and blues….


Oh how I love thee, acoustic storm


Though you sometimes make me cry….


Yet I still don’t run for the comfort of cover


I just simply wear your rain as a disguise….


Under a shaded sky of darkened gray clouds


I proudly shuffle and stamp my feet….


Although my fingers are froze, and I’m shivering cold


There still no place on Earth I’d rather be….


Spectators watch in awe from their window seals


Unure if I’m even sane…


Puzzled looks trouble their warm blooded faces


As they watch me dance out in rain….


We have a bond you and I, acoustic storm


A bind that could never blemish or fade….


Even after April showers, brings fourth it’s many flowers.


Our love never washes away….


So I’m proud to say “I Love You” acoustic storm


As awkward as this all may seem….


How a human being as shallow as me


Could have love for such a distant and unliving thing….

But for those who still wonder and long to know

Why I dance even though I’m in pain….

If you’ve ever danced to the rhythm of love

Then you know why I dance in the rain….

Love…. The Acoustic Storm


by Square Cuz


How is it that I love you, when we’ve only just met
Yet ever since, you’ve been like a Beautiful nightmare that I’ve been unable to forget….
A constant reoccurance like a broken record, or a merry go round An adorable nonsense to me, like a crying baby boy or a studdering child….
It’s like an incomprehensible attraction, like a moth to a flame Enchanted by its alluring flickr, it’s demise is all the same….
Or like trying to count the falling rain drops, I know it is pointless to even try
As it is to look upward towards the heavens, and not see the beautiful sky….
It’s a breath taking experience, like watching the flight of a hummingbird
Or an indescribable melody, like a song sung without words….
It’s like the last inch to a final yard,or a final step in a foot race
It’s like a 400 meter relay, or like running a marathon at love’s pace….
Simply put.. It’s like bringing in the new year, and waiting for that crystal ball to drop
Or like the rush of a speeding roller  coaster, the moment before it stops…
That’s how you make me feel
by Square Cuz