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Array
(
[sid] => 163905
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A Con's Christmas
[time] => 2010-12-24 09:44:27
[hometext] => A prison inmate shares his Christmas experience and message.
[bodytext] => A CON’S CHRISTMAS © 1999 Ben Van Meter T’was the day before Christmas and the Aryan Brothers had a beef in the yard with all the black muthers. The Warden was ***** and said with a frown, “Merry Christmas you bastards, that’s a lock-down.” So we sat in our cells all Christmas day. No one was talking; there was nothing to say. The cons was all sullen and so was the screws. The turkey was canceled. We all had the blues. Cold beans and a biscuit, and not a thing more, was brought on a paper plate and slid through the door. Around about six with a scream outa hell, a punk from Modesto hung himself in his cell. The cons started yelling and venting their rage, burning their bedding and rattling the cage. The guards all come in dressed up for a riot. They turned on the hoses until we was quiet. And then in the silence, what do we hear, but “Oh Holy Night,” in a voice high and clear. It pierced through the gloom to all of the tiers: a holy old song sung by an old queer. We all stopped and listened. There weren’t a dry eye. I went to my window, looked up at the sky. And what do you think I seen through the bars, but a sky full of clouds and one brilliant star. It’s shown like a beacon for two thousand years, feeding our hopes and calming our fears. Over prison and palace its light from above gives visions of peace and fond dreams of love. The clouds moved across it; t’was soon out of sight. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night [comments] => 5 [counter] => 187 [topic] => 18 [informant] => Blackfeather7 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 11 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Holiday Poetry )
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