Confined Poetry

"Captivated"

2007-07-11T21:11:00.000-07:00

Kissing you is like a fire that burns and consumes my soul-
Being with you makes me happy worth more than any gold.

When I see you smile it warms my heart, see you cry it breads in half-
Love those sparkles in your eyes, love the sounds of harmony when you laugh.

Love the way you touch my face, love the way you say my name-
Love the way I’ve fallen in love, love the way you help me maintain.

Love everything about you even the things you say you don’t like-
Love the way you hold on to me and snuggle when we go to bed at night.

I thank Almighty that you love me and except me for who I am-
You know I’m a strong individual but I need your love to stand.

And when I first met you I was captivated how you smiled at me-
And the way you looked in the rain as you tried to convince me we couldn’t be.

I’ll never forget the day I saw you it’s locked away in my heart-
A conversation wasn’t needed. Your eyes had me from the start.

And when I finally kissed your lips it was a joy I couldn’t explain-
It’s like all my suffering was worth it, a great relief after all the pain.

And everyday my happiness grows larger and larger by the day-
So I wanted to take this time so that I just might say.

I’m missing you when we’re apart and so complete when were together-
Hold your head up high and smile for me ‘cause you have my love forever.

"Captivated"

by
Michael Victor Lugo
2003

"My Warrior Princess"

2007-04-09T12:15:00.000-07:00

All the stars in the sky shine so bright even though they’re millions and trillions of light years from night to day-
But when I look into your eyes right there before me and only a taste of beautiful lips away.

Only a touch of your hand or the harmony of your voice-
Can bring me to this state of completeness to where my mind, body, and soul in unison rejoice.

And I can’t help but thank the almighty for the foundation that we have uncovered-
More complex and intricate than all those chambers in the great pyramids that they discovered.

For fire that a thousand round barrel clipped to the bottom of an assault rifle ready to squeeze-
More explosive than a dirty bomb like on '24' that those terrorist are trying to conceive.

Our love is like a sword that’s been butting through time and space-
And seen a thousand warriors slayen by its blade and its spirit thirst for more of those who wish to rob us of our place.

Our castles in the sky, our souls print upon each other-
Our DNA from recycled life times ago where we first came to know one another.

Our poetic thoughts that stream from your mind to mine-
And like holding a mirror up to my subconscious I can see in you which reflects divine.

And damn you look good...or better yet you feel so much better-
Yet all these letters are just an arrangement to make words to make my thoughts organized to form this letter.

And they don’t mean nothing, cause they don’t do justice to describe what you mean to me-
Like trying to put it in perspective is like when God Used wisdom to create the Heavens, Earth, and all those things within the Sea.

Perfect...like when the sun sets or when the dawn of a new day starts to rise-
Or like being blessed with enough understanding to be able to perceive the truth from lies.

Or like recognizing those who try to depress us and suppress us and they realize that we’re not going to tolerate any who try to oppress us-
Cause it’s just us striving and bloody fighting for a little of what we call Just-us.

'Cause we been fighting for a long time, and all just to taste a little joy-
Trying to maintain through this so called life while powers that be try to prevent us with plots and decoys.

But you and I we’re like the wind, they feel it but they can’t predict it-
And as long as we stand strong we’re more dangerous than chaos with a side order of conflict.

But with all that said and done there’s just a few more words I’d like to say-
You are My Warrior Princess, my shooting star, the wisdom within; my hopes of better and brighter days.

“My Warrior Princess”

by
Michael Victor Lugo

"Collect Call"

2007-04-09T12:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Momma, I know you must be so weary and tired of those letters from me –
with that red stamp that says mailed from a Correctional Facility.

But at times it seems like within these lines that maybe you’ll understand –
Then even though I’ve positively let you down, I’ve made the step from child to man.

I could sit and write things all day about how you worried and prayed for my safety –
But the bottom line is, we are all products of our own choices – that’s the raw reality.

Yet there are days when I day dream back to a time when things were plain & simple-
To a time when I played with GI Joes and so many legos I imagined I built an old
Egyptian temple.

Times when time didn’t matter, and responsibility was a word I didn’t know existed-
A time before I got wrapped up in the system and before I could name almost every prison listed.

A time when I looked in the mirror and saw innocent eyes looking back at me –
Unlike now, when my soul daily battles with inner demons who wish to over-power me.

Times when me & my brother would run around the house pushing our steel Tonka trucks –
Unlike now, when I know there are consequences for actions taken and all I can do is ask God for a little luck.

And I hate to have the jailhouse religion, but while I’m here I may as well get my thoughts in order –
And I’m sorry the phone bill is so high, but collect is the only way cause this phone don’t accept nickels, dimes or quarters.

And you know I’ve always loved you even before I made that Mother’s Day card with those huge crayons that barely fit into my hand –
And I worked so hard to make it beautiful for you, yet no matter what you would have loved it – this I did not understand.

Because it was from me… your child, your son, the one you brought forth into this life –
And I’m sure you had high hopes for me like that song in the Jungle Book that we would sing together at night.

And I know I have to be a let down, cause when I look at my children I have so many things I’d like to see them achieve –
Maybe a doctor or astronaut, or a professional football player, anything better than how I turned out to be.

But I also know that no matter what they do I’d never turn my back and always support the best I could –
And I’d always worry about their safety and well-being, because any good parent should.

And things begin to become clear, why you always write me back or press the button to accept my calls –
Because you still believe in me and the little boy I used to be, no matter how far I fall.

You still believe that somehow, someway, the child you held within your arms and protected so long ago –
Still has the potential to rise above all the obstacles in life because you used to rock him to sleep and tell him so.

I love you Mom and no matter where this road may take me, know we’ll never part-
Cause you are blood of my blood, the first woman I ever loved and forever in my heart.

"Collect Call"

by
Michael Victor Lugo

"Self" - 2002

2007-02-15T21:58:00.000-08:00

Sometimes...It's hard not to get lost in one's mind.
A lot of things are easy in life, but I guess a lot of things are hard too.
Seems like the eternal balance always demands to be heard or seen.
For every one of "these" there's "that," and for "that" there's "these."
A constant 360° wheel that endlessly goes round and round.
And the mind is somewhat the same, only it's got more depth to it.
Which makes me wonder some more about the depthness of my mind.
How deep can I go until I come through the surface on the other side?
Or is there another side? Maybe...and then again, maybe not.
Now what if one goes so deep and runs out of what we would call breath?
Would you be stuck in the depths of your mind, or would you float to the top?
And if you floated to the top, would you be "mind dead," or retain your depthness?
Then again, what if you didn't run out of breath, but did not break another surface?
But did, in fact, find the floor of your mind, much like the ocean's floor.
Would you find lost vessels wrecked on the minds floor, and treasures unimaginable?
Would they reveal ancient and mystic rites to the swimmer of the depths?
But what if there are creatures that lurk at the mind's floor, much like the ocean's?
Would you try to escape, or face the truth face-to-face?
Then again, maybe they won't attack you, but welcome you; after all it is your mind.
Maybe...in order to have and open the vessels and treasures you must defeat the creatures.
After all, any worthy prize is worth fighting for, correct?
But who are you really fighting in order to get what you already possess?
It is...it can be...Time has shown...that it has always been...

"Self"

by Michael Victor Lugo
2002

“Grievance Form”

2007-02-15T20:58:00.000-08:00

“Grievance Form”

Dear God, I respectfully submit this Grievance unto you-
Because in this Confinement Cell I’ve pursued every avenue.

Yet to no avail with the officers, who run and stand over me-
A lonely Voice in the wilderness Standing up for the things in which I believe.

But it’s so hard when you are Bound and physically Confined-
When thousand pound doors prevent your Freedom and concrete walls play Tricks on you Mind.

And when judges’ words of Corrupt political explanations continue to Hold you in this situation-
They try to Rob me of my Livelihood and every Ounce of Determination.

And yet I Continue…to pray with my tears Soaking the ground-
And although my Words may not be correct, proper or Profound.

I say the things that’s in my Heart and on my Mind that sharper than a heroin addicts Razor blade-
That’s better then a Million request forms and all the Grievance procedure the done made.

And that’s all I have, so I Hope that it makes its way to you-
I hope it gets to your desk, so maybe you’ll have a Chance to go through.

Some of the things that I put down, about how they Abuse power and think that no one Sees-
About how they think they’re so High and Mighty and so much better than me.

You see, God, you’re the only one that can Intervene, and whose authority Supersedes-
All these maggot mouth Jesters of Justice that wish to cause cruel and unusual Punishment upon me.

And yet if I try to Raise up and bear my arms, I’m Convicted as a felon in possession-
And that line Waiting to go to prison is longer then the mafia in a Catholic church waiting for Confession.

So what am I to Do? As I find myself with No more Resources and No more Rights-
You see, physically I’ve been Beaten, and now even mentally they chastise if I Fight.

Divide and Conquer, but I Refuse to submit, Lord, that’s why I’m submitting this to You-
Asking You to lend me a Hand, God. Damn, Lord, Please come though.

‘Cause I could use a little help…and I figure ruling the Universe ain’t no easy task-
And there are like…what? 6.7 billion other People with requests, and I wouldn’t be surprised if mine was Last.

So if you get the Time, please go over my Words-
Because there are some People here whose Voices go Unheard.

But yet I Speak and Continue to Fight in hopes I can sleep with Peace at night-
In Hopes that those Demons who plague my dreams will Fade away with the Morning Light.

But they’re still here with their Badges and Pistols and Tasers and Cuffs-
With their Cowboy mentality, they think they’re like WWE Smackdown tough.

And yet it takes five or Better just to Handle me-
And they try to Push, Antagonize, Provoke…so I Snap and additional charges are what I’ll see.

And thus I Grieve, with so much more that goes Unsaid-
With so many Conflicting emotions that I’m trying to Maintain that flow freely in my head.

So many Burdens on the Block, I’ll pray you’ll take the Time to read the things I put upon these Lines-
No Political Agenda; merely a soul Tired of being unjustly Confined.

Just another prisoner with a Number attached to my name-
In hopes you Receive this Grievance, from a Voice who is Detained.

“Grievance Form”
2007
by Michael Victor Lugo

"Just Another #"

2007-02-15T20:56:00.000-08:00

“Just Another #”

I read the paper, I hear the news about this War on Drugs-
About how they’re cracking down on crime, Gangs and Thugs.

Murder rate is on the Rise, Police Corruption can be seen-
Yet they slap me with this lifetime #, Constitutional Rights impossible to redeem.

And many things play with my Mind as I sit in my Confinement Cell-
How the Hell the police break more laws than all the Orange jumpsuits in jail?

How come out of 27 keys only 17 get turned in?-
And we wonder how these narcotics be rolling round pushin’ Benz.

Tax payers’ dollars, ain’t that a bunch of Shit-
Illegal search of my house this Good ‘Ole Boy system makes me sick.

And let’s talk about this money that Our Law Enforcement spends-
How about over Six Thousand for Lap Dances, Juice and Gin.

Then how about all the Dope they sell just trying to make a Bust?-
Yet if I try to feed my family going the same I’m looked upon with Disgust.

And what about the prison population that Wildly continues to Grow-
It’s the constant Struggle of Oppression; don’t act like you didn’t know.

Rehabilitation and education, Moral achievement and betterment-
Ain’t nowhere within those Revolving Doors of Correction they call a Department.

Nothing but Hustle and Survive, thoughts of home, live or Die-
Hurts like Hell, better believe it, yet never let them see you Cry.

While we Chained up in the System bound hands and feet-
And they steadily making Money off my Pain, while they continue to Lie and Cheat.

They got their Bullet Proof Vests, but tell me I can’t have One-
How am I supposed to Protect myself from police who shoot for Fun?

It’s a messed up World right now that we living in-
And my wife has the burden, Alone of raising two children.

Just like many Fathers across the Land, Out of lives we Disappear-
‘Cause these legislators are making Laws and don’t give a damn about Our Tears.

They don’t care about my Family, Don’t give a Damn about Yours-
All they care about is promotions and charges they can tack on to make your sentence more.

Well I don’t give a Damn about you and this # you put on me-
‘Cause I’m Always gonna Speak my mind, Rebellion is what you instilled prematurely.

So don’t look Crazy at the Crime rate when it reaches New Highs-
‘Cause you brought it upon yourself with laws of Enforcers of Deception and Lies.

Crooked smiles, Tarnished badges, Fictitious reasons, Cocked pistols like hunters-
I’m just a Prisoner of Your Politics, and to you “Just Another Number.”

By
Michael Victor Lugo

“Cell of Confinement” by Michael Victor Lugo, 2006

2007-02-15T20:45:00.000-08:00

I sit alone in Darkness; light fails to reach my eyes-
Or better said my Soul is without; walking blind as if hypnotized.

Like a Noble in a graveyard, nothing but spirits comfort me-
Taking council from Voices, is this the point on insanity?

The Fire within has been diminished; a small flame is all that remains-
And each minute is a Struggle as I hope each day I will maintain.

I pray each Breath gives me hope, but as I said I’m walking blind-
Yet, I can never walk too Far, ‘cause even mentally I am confined.

Trapped within this Box, bound within this hole-
Justice is a Thief, ‘cause my life it has stolen.

My Heart it has crushed; my Dreams it has slain-
My Life is in the Balance, yet Justice it just plays.

These Walls continue to stand, but sometimes it’s like they’ve fallen on me-
Yet, within the flicker of that Flame I see the Faces of my Family.

They tell me to hang on; their Smiles bring me peace-
That their Love is always with me, even if they Cage me as a beast.

Sometimes I can’t Stand, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t try-
And I continue to Press on, even when the Will threatens to die.

The Armor that I wear has been damaged, cut, banged and bent-
Yet I’m still Fighting the best I can; Alone in this Cell of Confinement.

“Cell of Confinement” by Michael Victor Lugo, 2006