Friday, March 26, 2010

The Second Time

I'm thinking about a person in my mind
for the second time
while doing a crime
Drinking that Corona and lime.
I'm here in NVJDH
God help, Jesus Grace
Please let me get out of here and let me free
I promise you one thing, I'll stop smoking that tree
Lord please
I'm locked up like a dumb beast
I think the mistakes are unchangble
and now ima start holding myself accountable.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Is There Any Mail Today?

Is there any mail today? I always ask the same question in the morning. Then I always get the same answer, “Cody I’m not sure” or “[Name] not at the moment”. I keep waiting for this letter that is for a fact on its way to me.

I continue to wonder what kind of news the letter will bring. While I wonder I often think “What do I really want to happen”? Then “what will be the best for my future”? If I am a soon to be father, should I be more happy than scared? Or should I be more scared than worried? Do I really think I can do this?

At night it makes me tremble, when I think of all the possibilities. I always thought “that won’t happen to me”. No! It was more like “that can’t happen to me”. I never thought of how serious having a child is. Let alone feeding it or providing a safe shelter. I’m still a child! I can’t even take care of myself.

I get so riled up when people decide to lie about being a parent. Acting like it is what proves you’re a man. That happens a lot in here too. If I haven’t mentioned yet, I am currently incarcerated. The worst part about my situation is the feeling that I cannot provide. I can’t even prepare. Since I am a juvenile I can’t even partake in a work leave setting.

I’ve already told both my parents about the possibility already. I’m just scared to tell my probation officer. I don’t want another charge. Can you get another charge for that? I don’t know but until I find out the truth I am going to keep my mouth shut. I’m just waiting for the mail to come. I always have thoughts, like maybe there’s a problem at the post office or something.

When I got the first letter that there is a possibility of me being the father I cried. I mean I literally sat up the whole night and cried. It was the only time I ever cried longer than my mother when my step-brother passed away. I usually cry when I am really mad but never out of sadness and confusion. I will be there for my child and the mother if she is pregnant. I still have the question, “Is it mines”. I’m so upset about not having a job. I feel like the stereotypical teenage parent. So, is there any mail today????????

Author's Note: Since I wrote this page back in the beginning of December it has come to my knowledge that she is not pregnant and that it was just food poisoning.

No One Knows

No one knows how it is to walk in my shoes.
No one knows how much pain I go through.
No one knows why I do the things I do.
No one knows why I don’t like you.
Is it because I don’t know you.
Is it because the colors you wear.
Is it because the way you look.
Is it because your race or religion.
Is it because the way you live.
I just don’t like you because that’s the way
I feel about you.

My Destiny

Sometimes I think I was born to be locked up, born to be in programs, born to be an addict. I think this because no matter how hard I try, I just can't quit getting into trouble. I’ve been through DHS, Girls Outreach, Aurora House, Vanguard, New Directions, and now New Beginnings; all the programs in Arlington, plus TAP, a program in Reston. I honestly don’t know why they keep putting me in these programs, because they’re obviously not helping. And all the drug treatment, it’s not gonna help either. Besides my mom, I was born into a family of addicts, and I guess that’s just how it was meant to be. I can't stop using, and I know I definitely won't stop using. Even though I want to stop, I'm pretty sure the way I’m going to die is by overdosing, having a really bad trip, or by the long term effects.


She is the woman who gave birth to me.
She was, at the moment, still sixteen.
She resumed school and earned a college degree.
She struggled to be stable financially.

She’s a nurse who worked from here to there;
Leaving my little sister and me to Grandma’s care.
She worked abroad, worked everywhere.
She mailed money to us and thought it was fair.

Washington, DC, was her final destination;
Working for two years and announced a declaration.
She wanted my sister and me to move to another nation.
As naïve as I was, I was expecting perfection.

September 3, 2006, is a significant date.
I had an opportunity for my life to recreate.
Sadly, it turned out to be something I’d hate.
I am appalled that I was misled by my fate.

My mother is whom I blamed for my downfall.
She is whom I hit back and made the 911 call.
I was a prisoner of this wall and that wall.
Tears were shed at night but around her, I refused to bawl.

Three months later, from foster home, I ran away.
I was a homeless person with nowhere to stay.
Each day I asked myself, “Would I make it out alive today?”
“If I won’t, please protect my family, God,” I would pray.

Halloween, Christmas, my birthday, blizzards, Valentine’s.
I was starving while families were out to dine.
I asked God and He gave it to me: a sign.
A couple of hours later, it was time.

She opened the door and tears streamed down her face.
I thought she would slap me but that wasn’t the case.
She was beyond comprehending, I was beyond amazed.
This mother-daughter team is back in the race.

She apologized to me and to her, so did I.
We talked with ease and an emotion I could not recognize.
Like your body is free from tension without exercise.
Like a hideous individual with no need for disguise.

The court system determined I’m to be locked up until November.
I wonder, how drastically would my life change after?
I concluded I’ll survive because there’s support from my mother.
She assured me that in the end, all will be better.

She was my age when she had a baby.
Did she predict how that baby girl would turn out to be?
I’m blessed she didn’t entirely lose hope on me.
You’re irreplaceable. I’m proud to call you, “Mommy.”

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Why Do Teens Join Gangs?

Teens join gangs for protection. Teens join gangs at the age of 13 to 21. Gang members use these methods to get teens to join. These are the methods of peer pressure, offer protection, threaten safety of friends or family members, offer money for what appears to be simple activities. Some join gangs just because they have problems at home with their familys or just because they grow up around them. That’s why I join a gang; I grew up around them. I was 13 when I got jumped in to my gang. Now that I think about it it’s not worth it, all it leads you to is jail, the hospital, or dead. I can’t even walk out side my house with out watching my back. I can’t even go to a store with my mom with out watching my back because you never know who can come behind you and stab you or shoot you. I was only 7 years old when I saw my cousin get shot in the head. Am not ready to go through all that. Am not ready to see my mom cry because one of her sons got killed and I know that she is not ready to put me in a grave. That’s why when I get out I am ready to change. I am ready to start all over. That why don’t lose your self with gangs.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Bam Bam


Monday, March 15, 2010

Dear Dr. King....

Dear Dr. King,

I really like what you was saying in your letter. I don't know about anyone else, but it made me think a lot. It made me think about why do black people kill and hurt other black people in many ways. The white people already did that to us. It still a lot that need to be done in society, there's too much violence all over dumb stuff. I paid a lot of attention when you said, "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you." I really like that quote. I say that a lot of people need to read this letter and get an understanding of it. Maybe they will soon change after reading it a couple of times. If everybody reads this letter I honestly think that jail cells would be empty. I say that because maybe everybody would think twice about the bad things they did before they did it. This is why I really like and honor this "Letter from a Birmingham Jail".

11th Grade Student


I've always been curious about what my purpose is in life. What was I put on the earth to do? What was the reason God put me on this earth? This is a question that puzzles me or should I be dead or alive. The real question in life.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Seven Candles

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven
Seven candles burning and smoking;
Lit seven candles flames of doubt, fear,
Sorrow, pian, waste, hopelessness, despair

They turn my insides with black soot and ash,
There is something at the back of my eyes,
A pressure building, building, building

Hot like flames of seven candles, which
No amount of breath can extinguish

One, Two, three, Four, Five, Six, Seven
The fire spreads
The fire run through my veins
Why can’t I just escape these flames of these?
Candles or is it just. PAIN

Wednesday, March 10, 2010


I hope I get something out of [this program]. I hope this program can help me cause I don't want to go through the same thing all over again. I want to stop getting locked up but I know that when I get out I am going to see the same people I was hanging out with and all I want is to stay away from them but not all cause I know that it's going to be hard but I am going to try to leave them behind.


I've always been curious about why people do certain things to try to fit in. While I've been here I've noticed that certain people change how they act on the outside because they don't want to feel left out; they don't want to be an outcast. I think they change because they want to feel some comfort while they are in here. I think that they should just be themselves instead of covering themselves with someone they aren't.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

I am from....

I am from Washington, D.C.
I am from a neighborhood that looks for no beef.
I am from a family that care.
I am from a mother that raised her son from a young boy to an older man.
I am from a family that have respect, peace, value, tolerance, perseverance.
I am from a family that supplies they child whatever he/she needs/wants.
I am from the man that put us on Earth, Jesus Christ.
I am from a school that really wants the scholars to be successful, Cesar Chavez School.
I am from a mother that wants her son to change for the good not just for the bad.
I am from a neighborhood that people don't pull them up but pull them down.
I am from a place that I call home that every one have something to live for or have goals.
I am from a neighborhood that everybody is an enemy or targets.
I am from where everyone robs and steals.
And first and foremost I am a person that has goals in life and am willing to change.
I am from a group of friends that robbed people, steal things and carjack people.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Same Old Cell

I sit here in this same old cell, same old jumper, same old food, same thing everyday, every week, every minute of every day. I can't smell the fresh air outside my window. I can't even see fully out of my window; all I see is a little crack out of my window every day at 2:30 PM. I feel like I'm getting locked into a five wall box everyday I go back into my room. Every 15 minutes they do a check like we some caged animal or something. We sit here being accused of this, this and that, being accused of provoking peers and bullying them is even worse. The way we feel when we we angry is a provocation; we can't do [stuff] because it's just another termination, another loss of knowledge. They say use your freedom of speech but when we do we get locked down another 24, 48, 72 in our room, another court report to the judge, to the PO, to everyone. Every time we go to court we think damn when am I gonna go home, when is it all gonna be over with? You scream to go home but you never see that day. You wonder when oh when will it arrive. You sit here for months, weeks, days, minutes for the day to come. You can't stop to think about it but you do. You can't stop to think what are you doing here, why do they still have them old charges on me? Why can't any of it all go away? I miss the smell of the coldness, the smell of winter. I miss the sight of snow, I miss the traffic in our lives outside these locked doors. I don't want no more locked doors. They put us in a box and then throw away the key and we in a box forever and ever and we can't get out but why? I just want out.