I really have to ask myself what could I do to find an answer to the equation of life?
If I contemplate this amazing equation, I always find myself spinning around the fact that human beings have been put on earth to love each other it really doesn't seem so difficult to understand. Because there is no emotion that can satisfy a soul as much as love; love is the strongest word in the entire vocabulary!
Is there maybe something more meaningful?
Or that is more important than love? I don't believe so.
Because Christ himself said that what he asks of as is love; love for him and love for all human kind.
I believe that love is the solution to the equation of life!
Locked up in prison as I am, without relatives or friends alive in the world out there, and living immersed every day inside the hate that thrives in here, I find myself in front of the perpect example of what life should not be!
I don't think somebody really wanted me to learn some thing from this complete lack of love, but here I am.
Therefore, here is a little thought that I want to give to you that are reading this and to myself: let's try to restart from love, from our home first and walking together with "him" in the world, at work, with friends and strangers and let's see if by pure chance this is the best solution...
I am sure that it is...

God bless you and
peace be with you all
Daniel Larson F40838
CA 93204 USA


From Carlo to Katia, by Norman

Norman Wayne Whillote C29683
310-2-61L Po Box 9
Avenal, CA 93204USA


O God why (Teshuvah)

O God why have I forsaken You
My sins are great. My sins of the world
Even greater are my sins of the spirit
I have travelled so far away from you
And the moment I asked you welcom me back
You gave me all I had lost and more
You put me in a place of honor
Men offered me power and prestige
I desire none of it
Only to be close to you
To praise you and love you
To have you ever present in my lifeIn you I am fulfilled.

O God teach me your ways
I am like a young boy with limited Knowledge and experience
Teach me to walk on your path
To listen to you to do your good deeds
Keep me from temtation open my mind
So that I see evil and do not invite it into myself
Show me how to rebuke wrong actions and thinking
Show me how to fill my life with throughts of you
My life is ever at risk taech me to be safe
My soul is ever at risk protect me lord
Take away negative throughts
Do not invite thieves in to my home
Protect my family bring them all good things
May we all leam to love lord
With all our heart, soul, might and mind
May you always reside in our heart.

O God forgive my trasgressions
Teach me to live according to your ways
Take away my evil inclination
Be gracious unto me
Shine your light on me and my family
Be kind and merciful.

O God I need you always
Without you I am less than dust
My spirit was dead until you revived me
My life was drunk with the word of passion
Now I am awake praising you always.

Lord lift up your eyes and your servent
I who have labored many years in foreign fields
To no avail for I lost all that was precious
Now I ask to come back and reside in the land of my fathers
To pray at the altar of my Grandfather
To cry as I learn the suffering of my people
To be consumed with grief at their death and destruction
To lie naked in front of you hiding nothing.

And when I return to my God
What will he keep from me
What will he deny me
Fore he has said he will place
Everything in my hands
I rejoice that I've woken up
Removed the shackles from my hand and feet
Chosen to walk in the ways of rightesness
God lives in me and I in him
Thank you God for your grace and divine providence.


May the lightof God shine through me

Every day i will look for opportunities to:

be kind,
lift someone's spirits,
do something good,
make a bad situation better.

I am light in the darkness

No matter what:

I have done in my life,
people think of me,
my situation or where i sleep at night,
my future looks like.


Write to me:

Daniel Woodward T56711
Avenal CA 93204


The screaming man moans

There is a man here who has been screaming for two weeks now... Continuously.
He's been locked in some perpetual nightmare or agony, howling at any time that I take to stop and listen.At breakfast, listen... You can hear his unearthly ballad.
At dinner, his sceeching voice sounds counterpoint to the count clearing horn blowing in the distance.
At 10:00 pm during the istitutional alarm check, his shrieks join the bells and sirens.
I was up as always at 3:30 am as his screams ejaculating unformed curses at the god who allowed him to live with this infinite pain in this unending hell.
Again, up till dawn, I finally closed my eyes as they were tired orbs. The demon and devils were tearing at my flesh, gnawing at my abused liver, dining on my soul.
Still up, the midday sun beat a tatoo through the narrow window on my face. I lay for a moment, caught between pseudo-sleep and consciousness in that netherland of half dream, half awake... Basking in the peacefullness of silence before the implication of that quietude struck me with full
I struggled to hear as it sent chills straight to the core of my being...
It seems that the sceaming man has lost the will to fight anymore...
because now, the screaming man moans.

Write to me:

Michael Geffner K91323
CA 93204 USA


Prison is a place

Prison is a place where the first prisoner you see looks like an all-American college boy and you're surprised. Later you're disgusted because people on the outside still have the same prejudices about prisoners that you used to have...
Prison is a place where you write letters and can't think of anything to say. Where you gradually write fewer an fewer letters and finally stop writing altogether...
Prison is a place where the flame in every man burns low. For some it goes out, but for most it flickers weakly, sometimes flashes brightly, but never seems to burn as it once did...
Prison is a place where you find grey hair in your head or find your hair starting to disappear. It's a place where you get false teeth, stronger glasses and aches and pains you never felt before. A place where you grow old and worry about it...
Prison is a place where you hate through clenched teeth where you want to beat, kick, and scratch and you wonder if the psychologist knows what they're talking about when they say you actually hate yourself...
Prison is a place where you learn that nobody needs you that the outside world goes on without you...
Prison is a place where you can go for years without the touch of a human hand, where you can go for months without hearing a kind word. It is a place where your friendships are shallow and you know it...
Prison is a place where you hear about a friend's divorce and didn't even know he was married. It is a place where you hear about your neighbor's kids graduating from school... and you thought they hadn't started yet...
Prison is a place where you're smarter than the parole board because you know which guys will go straight and which ones won't. You're wrong just as often as the board members are, but you never admit it and neither do they...
Prison is a place where you wait for a promised visit. When is doesn't come, you worry about a car accident. Then you find out the reason they didn't come. You're glad because it wasn't serious... and disappointed because such a little thing could keep them from coming to see you...
Prison is a place... or is it an attitude?

Write to me:

Sergio Contreras - C65663
CA 93204 USA



Write me
Richard Arciniega - B82619
Buoilding 310
Po Box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Light as a feather

Light as a feather, I stand,
and as I turn to see back at the treacherous
path I have walked,
astounded I am at the near miss of pit falls that have
been set before me.
Now, in an atmoshere of mystery and intrigue surround my effort to
I must get to the end of my journey,
so that I can see the smile of the
ones I love.
My heart yearns for the moment of ecstasy as my tears well up from pure
joy at the sight of my dear little one.
Let my conviction be deepened further at the realization of being.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Torn between horrors I am, the mysteries of life I seek,
but the veil before my eyes often as thick as a smoke filled room,
separating me for the moment.
I have set myself against what is lurking in the shadows.
I am ascending above ignorance and have not accepted the limitations and the illusions of the human enviroment.
To rule the desire within me to learn,
grow and teach,
by word and example.
I must understand what I am to obey.
I awoke with a plan fully formed in my mind,
as though my sleeping brain have been working on it all night.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



In the shadows I stand as I observe the coming and going of my surroundings. The spirit that permiates throughout the air, is ignored by the majority of the danger it possess! When the sun is high and the masses are about, I am able to hear the chaotic energy voice it's call to me. Dangerous this energy so strong, but I harness what little I can handle. Gleaming in the gloom, are instruction in the form of a single-word commands. Listen, hear, patience, kindness, fortitude, quietude, humility, courage and respect, the list goes on. Arrested I am!

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204

We're all a little emigrant

History books are full of the most famous ups and downs of migration waves; some grow and develop silently inside the national sphere like the "dust bowl" migration, famous for being featured in one of steinbeck's masterpieces, that during the years of the great depression in the United States took hundreds of thousands of farmers from the middle west to California; others explode noisily crossing the country and even continent borders like the recent "european assault" that is becoming the last hope for so many desperate african people.To be completely honest nobody can avoid finding somewhere in the past of his own family some kind of migratory move; the history of civilization is also the history of human migration: at the and we're all a little bit emigrant. Somehow the large migratory waves are always generated by some bipolar effect like disaster-hope; on one side we have a push often consisting in a real threat to the life of an entire population like hunger, poverty, genocide, ect. on the other side a catalyst for hope in a better future (or at least less dangerous) like the American dream of the past century or the European one of the current.And it is this bipolarity that gives birth also to all the problems associated with the largest migratory waves; yes because the owners of that "dream wellbeing" are really determined defend it from to emigrant usurpers. In the United States illegal immigration is a fellony punished with three years of prison. Somehow the legislator with stars and stripes must have not noticed that for a starving poor mexican the "threat" of three years of room and board in a us federal prison is not exactly an efficient deterrent; in fact the migratory wave hitting southern us is stronger than ever. But it is not the migration on itsself that represents a danger for the wellbeing of the population "invaded", it is rather the possible excess that unfortunately pair off with these waves. The migration in itself is activally positive because, for istance, it helps enormously the exchange between mature cultures; recent studies have demonstrated that the development of separated communities is maximized thanks to exchanges limited by volume and time, like it happens during migratory waves. It looks like this model is more efficient not only of communities that are completely separated, but also of communities in continuous contact, the so-called "global communities". The migration in its own is positive because, for example, it is often the answer to an excess of "cheap" labour opportunities inside the receiving ecomony; now a day in Italy there is a chronic lack of basic and support hospital personnel and all of a sudden countries from eastern Europe are ready to fulfill this need; in Italy we even have agencies whose business is to recruit this personnel and train them in the Italian language and hospital techniques and help them complete the immigration process. In California there is an even more chronical lack of farming operators to fulfill the needs of the "garden of the USA" and Mexico is promptly satisfying this lack of personnel, even temporary or seasonal. Another example: in Unites States and Europe we lack programmers and designers to answer the explosive growth in internet systems and sites in India, South Africa and some Eastern European countries are more than happy to fulfill our need. In short what we should fight is not the migration wave, but the lack of organization that comes with it; lack of organization that grows bigger the larger the migration is, so big that it defeats any systematic control. It is in such movement that the growing desperation produces the "hope dinghies", and fills the hospitality centers until they look like prison; it changes the immigrant from a person looking for a job into a hopeless survivor that would do anything to avoid sure death.We've all been emigrant, in one period of history or another, and keeping this thought in mind we should give up trying to stop something that is a natural part of human civilization and development and we should try to understand and organize it as best as we can in order to avoid as much as possible the degeneration that is the real enemy, for us and for the immigrants themselves!

Write to me:

Carlo Parlanti - F25457
350-2-58X PO BOX 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Hidden pain

The beauty that lies beneath all the hurt and pain, suffered at the hands of
those who professed to love and care, is taking much effort to rise to the

As exhausting as it is to hold fast to a thin thread of hope, for a future worth
living for.

For gray has been the day of yet and with dreaded antisapation of tomorrow, I

At the wake of night I find my solace, in the dark recess of my mind,
contemplating coloring my thoughts with love, honour and respect, for that is
who I am.

Challenging it has been to beautify the images of my mind.

Contradicting are my desires, as the facts are against me.

I must find an avenue to a safe path even though it may be narrow, for
simplicity brings contentment.

All about evil lurks, behind a smile, who knows? A laughter maybe masking dark
intent. So ware of the man who fakes a limp.

For beauty seen from afar, is genuine, so approach at an angle, slow but true,
for the image you see, is a reflection of you.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



I can see your mind, through your eyes, and despite the exhaustion and your tears of frustation, the spirit of nobility you do have.

I'll venture to say, that time has given urgency to your steps, and with sweeping determination, you can build a future worth living for.

Hear me, a note of caution I give you.

With effort you must push the memory away, lest it consumes you with grief and anger.

Don't kneel before anyone and plead ignorance! For you well know what must be done. You are enslaved to memory, dark as they maybe. Shine a light on them and they go away.

My own fear shamed me, but no longer. I have ignited with intent, and within the peaceful seams of my heart, lies this flame, ever burning...which is love.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Hey Paulie, I know you have been affected.

I know you've been in a galaxy, in which you were exposed to hurt, pain, sadness, hunger and thirst.

I know you have seen the clashes of all sorts of substance abuse, physical and sexsual abuse.

I know you have seen the begining of life and ending of it.

I know you have experience to have plenty and to be in want.

I know you have been near death on numerous occasions. You have seen loved ones dead and loved ones dying.

I know you have heard the cries of others and of your own.

I know you have been slashed at, shot at, and I know you have had your share in cutting and shootings and hitting your targets.

This is the happy curiosity, that you were not alone. I was with you all along...yes, the one before you in the mirror.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Now you must cast down your laziness, he who rests on down or under cover, can not come to fame.

He who desires or in want must surround himself with those who have.

Explain yourself with action, for the lack of words is sufficient for me.

A just request, is to be met in silence, by the act.

How can you say, what is to be, if you only see, with one eye?

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Avenal State Prison Art


Write to me

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Tear drops

To see in the eyes of one who can not speak, but words I hear out loud as the life blood stains his surrounding.

In the stains of others I've become that surrounding, and the words of my mouth is what I heard, from the eyes I've seen cry. The child of a mother is who that was.

Never can be effaced from my memory, the images of my eyes. The words of their crys and the reflections of my own as a reminder, always to be unknown.

Utterly unable to decide. I have a horror of a river of tears now.

I recall his many qualities, his patient temper, his industry, his cheerfulness and tender love for me.

I can not express my feelings or describe the vastness of my loss.

What I have done!

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Ehi you, you smiling, tell me, I'd be glad to have something to smile about.

Funny, what memories come to you for no good reason.

For a moment i was a child, sensitive to the touch, always ready for a good

Tales of the dark, gruesome and insane. I'll never forget them, for I was
terrifield for days after, expecially at night.

The dark and the shadow people wait patiently for me, as if they had eternity.

Strange as it may seem, I'd always felt this chill, that would freeze my heart.

The hair on my arms would stand on and, yes...on my neck too.

At the ready, are the willing, to pull me under my bed, and my closet would
always welcome me in.

I never saw the face behind the big green eyes.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204

The depth of pain

In the depth of pain I have plunged, the moment the meeting of conception
was made.

Why would life be granted in innocence and death followed by guilt?

These are troubling thoughts of mine and questions that disturbs me so.

I have looked deeper into the realm of exsuses and have come up with
irrational hope.

My voice is filled with contempt on this matter.

I have never been able to trust words offered so effortlessly. I am accustomed
to insincerity smoothly delivered to me, but matters of the heart is what is
sought, difficult to express, I am, for much more is at stake.

In haste I accept the pain of loss, so that distance can take root.

Rather than say so, I'll ask another question.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



I have been put into a position that can turn my hands red at will and to have that
responsibility is very burdensome and weighty.

I have little refreshment as they put me to the question with a thousand sudden

Now what can this mean? Am I now a banished man? I well know that I am followed with
deep interest.

I am on my own, for the world and death and the inhumanity of some, parted us forever.

I have decided my defense against these robbers, must be my solitude.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Allow me to bind you with my rope of words, as I
arrest your attention and hold you captive.

I'll kiss you and render you speechless, as if you
were gagged.

Don't wiggle, turn or twist, for understanding, for
the cords of my words will only tighten.

Look into my eyes and see that I mean no harm.

Surrender to your captor and say: that you will be
his lady, so that I can say, that I'll be your man.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Panic ruled my mind for a moment as hot coals of a little girls cry, for her mother!Always will be missed the tender love she had for me.

A courageous woman full of fright and held at bay, by her submissive role.

I gave her my word, she made me promise, to be the keeper of my brothers, this I will!

What good would it do to say "I love you"? I wish for better words, but there are none.

In desparation I am, lent not by design. The thought that my mother is gone, brought limitless tears and crushed me with heartache.

Life seems desolate, but not meaningless.

For yesterday is the day, that had pushed today into tomorrow, and this I live for, that my mother's sacrifices will not be in vain.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Afraid of aging, I am.

As the decadence of my body and mind races forth, I can't help but wonder, what one as old as he thinks.

As he already passed on to me what needs to be? Is he waiting for reassurance from me, that I have learned, so that I can go and teach?

I walk with him in silence, knowing I am being taught.

The source of his work, overwhelms me with addiction, for the rest of my life.

Questions of many, answers assured.

Step by step, I'll take with him. If he ever decides to speak to me, I hope he says; I have achieved.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


I no longer see the warmth of friendship and affection, once displayed to me.

The concealment of truth is revealed through the dart of your eyes and posture, so close them and speak, for then, I'll know the true nature of your heart.

As one nears out of darkness, I've become aware through the dramatic and terrible experiences of the past few years.

I was quite overcomed and taken a back, and would have fallen, if I hadn't been lying down!

The memory of what I saw caused a weakness in the very fiber of my being - a sensation like the steam of hot water infusing my limbs and paralyzing my heart.

So it is with reverence approaching awe, that my pursuit of truth is done, with unrelenting courage and diligence, influence by a flicker of light, given by others and shunned by some, for a brighter future.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Image of the heart

Image of the heart is what it gives, so through hard
work and redirected passionate questioning, it
continues simply extending the grand tradition of
Eager I press, as I have been taught by my
surroundings, to test more.
For perception of the invisible, is time bound, and
keeping me in this certain blindness, which allows
seeing of other sorts, what I can not accept as
First I must describe what I am looking for,
instruction in the art of seeing I have and through
my squinting eyes I search.
I have I longing to see beyond what my usual sight
tells me. In an alter state I am.
I grasp at the heart that led me astray and as I
looked into the mirror and seen its face, now that
it's bound and being interrogated, it can not run.
I must get the doors wide open and walk through.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


In grim thought

It hurt to see some of the scenes, I come across, when you hear like I
my mind!

At times I seem like a man set in stone, except that a tear was sliding silently
down from each eye.

Accumulated in me are volumes of knowledge of the sadness of others, caused
by those who were not foreseen with the seed of evil, in yet their unformed
human minds.

I have eye-witnessed and can testify to the ferocity, that seemed in born,
unsteady to the extreme they are.

In grim thought I sit, for pleasure is not to be.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


In my world there is not joy, I'm not sure if I had lost it or if it was stolen?

In the temporary safety of distance, I'll seek it.

In this world there are many holes and in one of these, I'll be.

Always a sparkle that catches the eye. Isn't that a wonder?

I'd let out a troubled sigh, when I first had heard, and with sour recognition I gave a weak and empty smile.

For where I go, I must face. So the sooner started, the sooner finished! That I have learned.

Upon my arrival I had noticed, that psychologically calculated, were the mood altering colors.

Paralysing dread of occupying such a place, filled me.

The icy realization prickled my flesh, that now I have become a number.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Deep thought

As I was brought out of my gyration, I had to stop and get my composure as the world around me kept spinning.

With my eyes closed, I do not speak and in this darkness, reality is found.

One must stop and take time to listen to nothing, to hear everything.

And in this realm of peace and tranquility, a smile is formed.

Extended to you is an invitation to a journey of darkness, where so much light illuminates.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


My art

Julio Martinez V96358
350-1-64M Po Box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Water is thicker than blood

Although, I regret my blood, I have begun to understand my scars and my inheritance, but yet I am innocent!

Memory wars with my still, in the path of my name. Silenced my blood, I am in the shape of distance, I'll find my future.

I have come to know the thinker of my thoughts and now the noticer of them.

My peace will come from on high and expressed from within.

As elusive as thought, I will be, so that the change of memory can take place.

Sooner or later, I will sing my song, as I vanish into history, like rumor and

And with me, talking to me lady, as the past collasses into a
breathing light.

Tears of remembrance, I will have, where the memory of others will be just
long nights of words.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204

The mask-man

I see through the illusion of the mask-man, as I peer into the eyes of the one who speaks, no-matter how skilled, they can not detach from their emotion.

By every fair means to cultivate a friendship with the mask-man, and treat him with inimitable humanity, just to convey in the end, it's okay, be yourself.

As the flight of day takes place and night drops in, I see the trueness of this mask-man, with his eyes close, innocent as can be, the son of a mother, exhausted by theatrical pose.

Why? I ask, why?

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



I wander in the darkness, and have become a wrinkle in ones life.

My trail of endurance came to and, as I was led on a path of sorrow, after chasing a forgotten promise.

I can hear the worry in their voice, realizing my appearance be damned.

Whithout let-up, life has become a game of hazard.

Who is the master of this show? Astonishment paralyzed me, my heart started thundering inside my chest, until it became painful.

I let out a sigh of frustation, as I stopped running after a dream, all I want to do now is sleep.


Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Do birds just sing for each other? Does the wind only blow for the trees? And by nature are the trees only to stand?

Are the flowers growing in the fields, arrayed in many different colors and scent, are they just to be?

No!!! For all, in all their splendor and differenciating one from the other, with a primary goal of bringing together peace and harmony, by neutralizing and becoming one with all.

Does not our environment nurture just those who are around?

Where does our environment stop and we begin? And can I begin at all without being in some place deeply involved?

Yes!!! For the place of our begining is where we are, and if not careful we become the mood of our landscape around us.

So with this in mind, maintaining discipline and respect for self and others is the essence of bringing peace and harmony, begining with self.


Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Is it possible that simple meaness can exist? That one can actually inflict pain and hurt, with not the least provocation, what so ever?

I ask these questions with suspicion. For the actions of some come to mind.

Breathtaking it was to hear them laugh and their commands (a form of) I saw.

I had entered this world whithout human rival... corrected I stand. Yes! Corrected I stand, for rivalry is all around me, unspecified evil abounds.

Gripped by fear are those weak at heart. And as they struggle with one another, to take the lead, artificial strength is found in numbers.

I find myself aching to be there beside people who capture my heart.

I well know that the most important job in this life, is to help those who need help.


Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Out of chaos, came the most influential anxiety of my live.
In silent frustration I lived, and from this reality, I can not leave.

Many anights alone, on street corners, I've sat, in confusion of mind by the method of discipline, instilled on me and mine.

So with the little hope that I had wished to express, I have saved for another day.

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204



Through the chambers of my mind, I walk, taking each turn carefully, so as to my self enclosure, in which I find myself in.

There came upon me, by degrees, a sense of being burdened with a task, whose nature I could not define, except by saying; "I must think".

What I was to think about, I did not know, and when obeying this commanding (urge), I fell silent and absent-minded.

When suddenly I realized, I had to face the invisible source of my work.

And as the intensity of my resistance lessened, the birth of understanding come to be.

Write to me:
Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


If you only knew

Temporary in my stay, if a quest I am.
In your home protected from those outside, I'll seek my peace.
The invisible shows no facts! So the darkness I'll shun.
There are those who lie in wait for me, losing sleep as they plan my demise.
Rested and well informed as your hospitality I have enjoyed.
My friend, you will never meet,a stranger I will remain.
Untold stories I can not tell.
Created memories are mine to have.
Accept me for who I am, love, loyalty and respect.

Write to me:
Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


My Lady

By the intensitive of my passion,

I long for your embrace, with the rise of ectasy,

I think of you.

I confess, that the very thought of being near you and the sacred trust we will share, entrances me.

Pretty-shine, smile so bright, my face is anxious and my expression worried, for the day after tomorrow, will come and go, and left behind will be fading memories, treasured only for a moment.

And it is during the twilight of the night, I do think of you. Your melody will forever play in my mind.

My gaze burn into you, with a hidden smile, a smile that kindles a fire, a fire, I thought long extinguished.

The shimmering flow of the hair, exquisitely done, has manifested in me, the desire to touch.

Yes...these walls and time are preventing me from physical expression.

And yes! Your charm has put a considerable amount of strain on my sense of discipline.
Write to me:
Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Where I am?

Even as one who dreams that he is harmed, and dreaming, wishes he were dreaming, this desiring that which is, as if it were not, so I became within my speechlessness.
I wanted to excuse myself … though I knew it now.

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Pretty Autumn

write to me
Baronell Ocasio Jr F32864
350-1-9M Po Box 9
Avenal, CA 93204 USA


Prison Christian art sample

Pourse for nigth

Write to me:
Julio Martinez V96358
350-1-64M Po Box 9
Avenal, CA 93204

My arts

Write to me:

Baronell Ocasio JR F32864
350-1-9M Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


Flowers for you

Made by:
Greg Van Gundy - P27407
350-2-58X Po Box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


A little boy’s cry

To set into motion the day after tomorrow, for the existence of the future is not yet beheld.
Today is the future, for tomorrow may never come.
In the pursuit of peace, victory must be won of obstacle, illusion
That can’t be shun!
Oh, how I desire to be seen by none, heard by few and held by one.
As I put much into upholding my name so high, the extention can only come through a
Little boy’s cry.

Write to me:

Paul Lara V76259
350-1-55y Po box 9
Avenal, CA 93204


The False Desperation

The spotlights have been recently shining again on the problem of abandoned infants, unfortunately, and they have done it for one of its most repugnant aspects: the garbage bin each one of us has for sure asked himself at one time or another what pushes a woman, a mother, to sentence her son to certain death abandoning him in the trash and for sure each and everyone of us must have failed when looking for so much wickedness to account for such a gesture.
Probably there is no premeditation, no homicidal push, only some kind of desperation living in the unconscious, perhaps bordering an illness; for sure a weight so weight to make something as horrible as the death of a newborn look like a “solution”. The bourgeois within me at this point is saying out loud “what should our society provide more than guaranteed assistance for every new born, no question asked? “but then my mind drifts back to that woman and I try to put myself in her shoes; is it maybe the shame for some kind of sin or the scare of social rejection?
Being cast away from the group because of an accuse of “impure facts” is so scary to push you to “erase” the evidences of such guilt in order to try and restart from scratch? It becomes inevitable therefore to think that perhaps we have all filed a little bit in the face of such horror; but failed in what exactly? It is probably the education process that governs mistakes to be a mistake in itself, I apologize for the childish word game.
We make a mistake and our mind jumps terrorized to the punishment, to atoning for it; it’s the least positive attitude we could possibly teach.
An efficient mind, with a positive attitude, should immediately jump to the search for a possible solution as soon as it realizes the mistake made. Isn’t that the difference between bigots and enlightened?
What wrong could be hidden behind having a child, although an illegitimate one?
A sad story, poverty, an abandonment, some intransigent parents?
Each one of these problems is certainly a lot less serious than killing an human being; each one of these problems could be easily endured if only a certain education could help us in searching for a solution instead of drowning us in the desperate wait to atone for our mistakes.
Every tragedy should make us cry and then should make us think “how do I fix this?”
Instead sometimes we fall into the deepest desperation, loosing our capacity to react, even to the point of destroying every thing around us in a silly hope to restart from scratch.
I am going to risk being predictable and I am going to repeat that our education process should remove a little bit more of the bigot waiting for punishment and add some well founded optimism, some more half full glasses.
We should teach the positive life approach that tells you that after a mistake the best you can do is fold-up your sleeves and fix the problem or at least give it your best try.
Sometime I think that there is an entire side of philosophy missing to our western culture.
In many oriental cultures kids study and practice meditation learning how to live in the present. This is done because obsession about the past means burning in vain between anger and false verdicts and anxiety for the future means a continuous fight against wind mills that most of the times don’t even exist.
Bottom line, if something can be done to fix the problem, why worry? And if nothing can be done to fix the problem, why worry?
you can write to me
Carlo Parlanti F25457
350-2-58X Po Box 9
Avenal, CA 93204