These prison walls symbolize strength,
rebellious horrors and automatic
misfortunes. I hear cries and they
are not mine, but the man who’s
slammed down on his knees, shaking
like a temporary madman. No one cares
inside these walls. Death strings along
mocking sloppy protesters in stripes
and orange suits.
Every cell will rot; hands, feet, eyes, mouth
and lips like artificial love. Every man
wants to be a God chasing the devil.
Every man plots, escapes undreamed of.
The apparition of washed out inmates,
linger between deceased hallways,
that reek of shame, murderers and
deadly games that feed the mouth of
These prison walls promise the stench
of penalties, and unconscious slaughtering
that tangos with the ego of pious men
that live tragically with overwhelming eyes,
ripe scars and burning sorrow. Every hour
promises a new herd of gangs, pranksters
and priests that did wretched things,
while praying on bended knees.
These prison walls offer lessons,
A fierce euphoria of reflections that
come for free, stabbing alive,
dull minds, caved eyes and hushed
conspiracies to revolutionize
their collapsed lungs with bible leafs.
Each lesson is drawn from the leaking
blood of the last man that howls at
night between tattooed bars and
paralyzed screams. Nothing comes
out, but scraps of bland remorse
and fueled shame.
These prison walls prevent the soul,
the raw flesh of hope, the common
yearn for thirst to escape beyond
barriers, sickly wired as watch dogs
suck the marrow of every man
who slams down his chained feet.
And knife on wrist, some pose a threat
between intervals of insanity that
crawl through the skin of bruised
limbs, tattered on the grounds of
false security, maximized to high
Consent for liberty paces on the fingertips
of illusionary dreams, while they scream
and scream and scream inside malnurished dreams.
Copyright @ By Author V.S. Atbay
From The Book: Epiphany- A Collection of Poems
Publisher - Friesenpress 2013