Showing posts with label Prose and Cons - Book. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prose and Cons - Book. Show all posts

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Another Cool TLB Book, Discovered by "The Grump"!

I recently came across an old 1976 paperback titled “Prose and Cons” , “a sensational collections of writings torn from the guts of men and women behind bars.”

Info here:

It includes Leslie’s 46 page short story titled “Ima Fibben” and 40 pages of poetry written by Pat.

First, “Ima Fibben” is good!  Very well written, and when it ended I wished it would have continued on to a novel!  A young girl, “Ima Fibben” tells about being in jail for the first time, and the story of her adjusting to prison life.  It begins with her being called a “new fish” (shades of Shawshank Redemption), to the end where she get’s a “new fish” cellmate and begins to teach her the ropes as others taught her.

Pat’s “poetry” is very good as well.  I know there is a word for this, but it doesn’t rhyme at all!  She never mentions Charlie by name, but as you can see by these two poems, she was obviously talking, and thinking about him.  She was still so in love with him in 1976!

Of Love

I watched your eyelids gently
Falling as I lay beside you,
And beneath your chin, my head
Rested listening to your beard grow….



finger licking strings
That hum to a scream
The beat
Ballad to a flamingo
Home spun to sting.
To listen intently is a game
Played around
your own mind’s reasoning.

His eyes ever constant
Facial muscles moving
Rapidly changing relatable expressions
But the eyes remain as a doe
Reaching to the other side
Making full circle around you.

Menacing glares when you step too close
Without being invited.
Piercing and loving
You know he has seen
But is looking around you
And when he finally focuses
To a single dark perspective he pops a pimple on your face.

Voice deep and calm
Within the turbulence of changing rhythms
Repeating words
Dangling as apples on a tree
Prepared to fall
Then caught like a fly ball
To left field.
You have the impression
You are playing with a dealer
Whose deck is full.
You invite his words
While he meets your plays
And you continually ask for another card.

When he loses
He always comes out a winner.
Defeat unspoken
In a past of unspeakable
When his eyes disappear.
Considering 28 years in walled cities
Is unintelligible
To a coed cheerleader
Of football reality.

An almost detached stance
To his body.
He laughs when he knows you like him
And his mouth of thin lips
Protrudes sexily
Into a wide
Shallow opening.
Relax and laugh
Pat you on your back
Walk away grinning.

Hands forever mobile
If not on another
On his guitar
In his pockets
Fumbling with a penny
A rock
A pen knife
Flipping a deck of cards
Like a Mississippi riverboat gambler.

Always with dancing fingers
With a cig
Running from and over the thumb
Thru the forefinger
To the next and return
Finally hiding it in a cupped hand
Though there is no wind.

Feet slightly haired
Toes that clasp the dirt
Like a friend
Though he usually wears shoes.
Top to top he walks
Making the world his own
Never refusing the day or night
His presence.

Moves with a clip
A shuffle
Can cover an area of two feet
And make it an acre.
Ballet steps
Pushing sweat from his ducts
Up to be worn as a taste of life.

Works for change
But never repeats
Except in a song
And even there
The music continues to change.
Makes ideas easy
For someone else to incorporate.

Stands before a mirror
Practices like a comedian
On the grammar of muscles
And emotions.
Handles scenes
But exits when no one wants to talk
Can make a show that will stun.

Sincere in fucking
Controls your person
Making sure you know
You have received a gift
And you know you have.
Never perverse
Yet you wonder
If he even enjoyed you.
Finishes by lighting a cig
Putting on his pants
Walking away.

Never a thought about spending
$50 on a 1 lb. bag of sugar\nor a complaint about wanting salt.
Yet push
And he will push harder.
Full of drive
Spanned by pressure
Which he draws from
Uses to his own advantage.

Sizes up a condition
How to move a mountain,
Finds the solution
Buys a candy bar instead.

Man of a million faces
But always those eyes
Which cause you to think.
He then tells you not to
“as you might get caught
Unconsciously analyzing
A situation.”