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By INMATE MURPHY, IAN A.
Published June 13, 2005
My horrendous and capital crime was one that is committed each and
every day all across the country. Reported by media outlets, discussed
in every area of life these days as millions clamber for a similar
chance, publicized and made acceptable by the very fiscal arms dealers
and purveyors of such lofty thoughts indeed. It is sanctioned by and
touted as part of the American Dream by attorneys, brokers and the
average citizen. Bankers and financial institutions vie for the chance
to help you commit this crime and provide me with the instruments of
crime to guarantee my conviction. Young and old are taken in by this
drug of allowed choice. Yes, I'm a victim of the mass conspiracy that
has gripped this nation for as long as I've remembered. My parents
and my grandparents also have committed this crime, but none have ever
been placed in the cement coffin that I'm now in.
It was just a simple day when the first vicious assault upon my life
occurred. Sometime early in September, 2002, it happened. Without
warning, I walked into the cell, not knowing that a life sentence was
to be handed down. The judges, elderly and allegedly wise sold me on
the "beauty" of the cell block and it's sinister allure. And
then the sentence was imposed on October 8th. By my own hand, I took up
the pen and signed my life away to controlled thought and life. Giving
up, I did not know; the simple freedoms to be hounded away by the
dreaded keepers of the prison. To be under their thumb and ever
gripping control, I took my own life and became part of their minion.
Freedom, once something that was taken for granted, has now become
fleeting. Behind locked doors of steel and glass, to only gain access
by passage through the electronically locked and watched by a camera,
and to have additional electronically controlled towers of steel to
control my very access to areas and my own cell. Locked doors and
minds. Key access to some areas and locked out of others, even though
they are part of the prison, I'm trapped. Access to simple knowledge,
newspapers and television is tightly controlled by the censors of life
itself inside this island of stupidity and mind control; contracted and
mandated; as the only source of propaganda allowed in this place, by
those too ignorant and complacent of the dictators of this state
sanctioned residence of tyranny; I stand as a thought criminal and
lover of freedom. Even the flag of my country is banned inside this
prison as it stands for freedom and life. But it is also kept hidden
from the inmates and dreams of the population.
It has become a struggle to see the truth that is real truth, but I
still persevere. Lies told to me as truth by the wardens. Unseen guards
reporting as snitches to the rest of the general population who also as
prisoners but allowed some freedoms that escape my purview. Freedom,
still elusive as ever; now is only to be found on day excursions from
this hell. Clad in my daily trappings and held hostage by the very same
who placed me here by simple prosecution of this American Dream, I'm
now a prisoner in an ever losing financial and human battle against
this demon called home ownership. But just not any home my friends, one
that is called a condominium.
A hellish existence of societal and social death that shrouds my very
thinking and traps my spirit and makes me wish for a simple life with a
heaven promised of white picket fences and a backyard barbecue pit. To
feel the warmth of my own fireplace and it simple glow on a chilly
night is now unthinkable. A socialist society in this the land of the
free, I've now unknowingly becoming part of the proletariat, a still
free thinking non-member of the party, but still enslaved by it.
Even the very air that I breathe is controlled by these demonic
masters, unable to open the windows where each day the light anew
streams; to find only shielding; to the very internal confines of this
cell. Its very smell; being mechanical and harsh, cold and musty, as
the forced recirculation of life's breath is contained and held
hostage form mingling with the lifting breeze. The glow of sunlight,
blocked by walls of dense dark fabric, like grey gun metal; shielding
me from them and them from me, to insure conformity and one vision; to
keep all vision out; or in; from ever being allowed by the controllers
of this cellblock, I toil in utter darkness and the glare of harsh
incandescent light, not feeling the security of the days beginnings. To
never smell the spring flowers, or the clean scent after a rain,
missing is the smell of a fresh cut lawn and only to remember from my
youth such aromas of life, they remain elusive and distant now. Only
the harsh trumpets that blare from the passing chariots are ever heard
as all life is silenced and squelched by the Rules and Regulations of
this prison. No life or nature itself is to be allowed and is
exterminated for the alleged good of all inmates. The harshness of this
antiseptic living is supported and regaled.
Water, held in high esteem for it's pleasure in life, becomes coward
and controlled as well. No choice but to drink the poisonous brew as
required by the wardens. Drugged with toxins and disease, we are forced
to be receptacles of their insidious liquid plan to ever control our
ever being. Salt to clog our mind and body, chemicals to control and
fluoridated as required by state sanctioned decree, forces our self to
become part and parcel of the growing cancers delivered by tap to our
cell. Unable to filter out their demands or the filth that flows from
the sewers to the faucet, we become numbed and left for dead.
To forever forget that democracy was the cornerstone of the country's
founding only to see that the very thought of personal freedoms are
taken away by others with no right or reason in this mausoleum of
former lives gone by. Passed only to the next prisoner by the death of
the last prisoner, it waits silently as a beast ever consuming the next
one in its warm grasp until it closed it's steely hand around your
throat and takes your breath away.
Slowly dying, the former prisoner, like me, stands as a disastrous
testament of the dream goes awry. Only those in power, the Board of
Directors under the menacing glaring eye of the Property Manager are
allowed to think for the rest of us and controlling our life; and to
issue for forth their own edicts as a way to live and to forget the
life I once had; and knowingly think that they control everything, but
still I maintain my personal freedoms with visions of tranquil
existence and lawn care.
Paying my captors for alleged required or mandated services found
elsewhere freely as part of my former freedoms, now I beg for economic
relief from such tolls from this rocky road. Spending like a drunken
sailor on shore leave; these wardens take freely and give nothing back
in return. Stealing with fees that would make most cringe; taking the
very bread from my tin plate and seizing the simple pleasure of subtle
life to insure their edicts are obeyed; I pay and hope that the
alleged laws that put me here do a not also take my cell from me due to
my disobedience of their illegal proclamations.
To know that my life is being watched by the elderly wardens and senile
guards that have become my very captors of life itself. Draining me of
the light once burning brightly and looking for each day, this prison
is now my home. As a life sentence 30 to Life is handed out by the very
institutions that sold me down the river as being the alleged dream,
now nightmare; that has become my albatross. I hope for escape from
the festering wasteland of this humanity and be freed by the Parole
Boards of Real Estate.
But what of my humanity, my quest to save others from the horrible fate
that awaits by their own hand by the stroke of a pen. Am I not to apply
charity in my dealings with others? Or do I allow them the same fate,
and same misery that now is my lamenting song? Yes! In my goals to
preserve the very essence of the American Dream, I bring forth the
battle cry to stay away. Save yourself! Do not be fooled by the sirens
song of the dreaded Condominium animal.
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Cell Block 4 at Otter Key State Penitentiary
