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George Martorano

Gray America – George Martorano’s First Hempfest Blog

prison bars

His eyes opened.¬† His nose smells.¬† His right hand reaches out and runs along the cell wall.¬† He feels pain in his lower back.¬† He breathes in the years and exhales within his mind.¬† He begins to pull, push, struggle himself upright on the prison bunk.¬† He lifts one leg, then the other and his feet succumb slowly to the cold concrete floor.¬† With his torso lean; his stooped shoulders, he stares at all below.¬† He sees the draft blowing across the bottom of the steel door; pushing, lent, bits and pieces of this and that.¬† With a moan he stands and shuffles the long, the short, distance to the steel sink.¬† His hurt hands grab hold the sides and ever so slowly he looks, believes, into the tin mirror.¬† Oh, what he sees.¬† The age; as if the bent tree outside the cell’s window…..¬† In time with worn old but clean prison clothes, he begins the journey.¬† First he eases his head out the cell door.¬† He looks left.¬† He looks right.¬† He begins to move.¬† There’s no one about…..¬† Finally, he enters the traffic of the living dead; the long red broad way of the prison hall.¬† He does not look up at the faces.¬† His mind ignores the sound.¬† The smell of prison food his lungs reject…..¬† Yet, he shuffles on.¬†

He moves with the set purpose within.¬† He moves with the final judgment he has decided within.¬† In time he’s there.¬† It is where the orders come from.¬† It is where they told him he must leave.¬† He must go free after 52 years caged.¬† He stands, backs up against the stone of the wall.¬† Now he adjusts his stare, a moving stare, at what is about him; the waste, the human waste, as he.¬† Then the plan begins to develop.¬† It is a simple plan as he himself; a simple prisoner and no more.¬† He exhales.¬†¬† He sees a cut in the human traffic and he shuffles across to the spot he chose.¬† Before the set of steel bars he locks onto with his old hands.¬† Then with all the aches within, he begins to slide to that red stone floor…..¬†

He shimmies his arms through the steel and holds on for dear life…..¬† “Come on Mr. Brown.¬† You’ve got to go today,‚ÄĚ delivers a guard from the group of guards around the desperate soul…..¬† They see his head shake, the gray of it.¬† They hear the mumble and whimper coming from he who sits…..¬† “Clear the hall.¬† Clear the hall!”¬† And the prisoners are chased away; just the man and his want and the uniforms with their orders….”I, I, there ain’t nothin out there for me.”¬† And finally a clear sentence comes from what the courts have delivered from decades within the prison castle…..¬† “Just leave him be‚ÄĚ; ‚ÄúCome on all of you go on about your jobs‚ÄĚ said the warden, leaving the man to decide when to unlock his soul from the forever grip.¬†

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What I have just revealed to you I have witnessed; for I was one of those prisoners in that hall traffic that day.¬† What I have relayed to you is occurring in prisons all across America.¬† We are the only country that keeps non-violent prisoners forevermore in cages.¬† Sad to say; I George Martorano, might someday find his set of bars and lock onto with all of my soul’s wants.¬†

George Martorano, CR: 12973 George is serving life for cannabis.  You can read more about George HERE

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