by Mando, San Mateo It’s been a nice week because I got more letters from my family and they sent me some birthday cards. I was reading them and wanted to cry, but I didn’t. My mom told me my PO is goin’ to retire in a week so she goin’ to do my report on this court date and be done after that. I don’t want a new PO, I been with this PO since I was a little kid and I feel like this new PO is just goinn’ to think I’m a bad kid based on my
Continue ReadingCrying To Relieve The Pain
by DJ, Sacramento The last time I cried was two nights ago. I cried because I think of my loved ones a lot and my dad a lot. It would be if my dad was still here, I wonder where I would be. It makes me think would things be different. Would I have had to learn lessons by going through it to see how the outcome is? Would I still feel alone even though I have a lot of people in my corner? People that’s here for me. I also cry because I feel I failed as a son
Continue ReadingDream House
by Jorge, San Francisco The way my dream house would be described is as a big house in the middle of nowhere where I could only be with my family and my current girlfriend. My house would have ten bedrooms. One bedroom would be for me and my girl, another for my Mom, one for my sister and her baby daddy and son. The fourth would be for my Dad. The fifth would be for my baby sister, who would have the best room beside my mom’s. The other five rooms would be for my guests. Each room would have
Continue ReadingEmotionally Challenged
by Jesse Ayers, San Quentin State Prison, CA Rehabilitation of emotionally challenged human beings, takes people down a long, lonely road. Excavating the bones that carried the carcasses that created the fossil fuel that burned the rage inside of us, is no easy task. Can you imagine digging up a T-Rex? Staring into the skull of a terrifying T-Rex that once stalked you, hunted you down and gave you the scars that you now carry is the only way to describe the emotional pain, scars unseen carved by past trauma. “Digging up bones,” as Randy Travis once wrote, “Examine things
Continue ReadingBlack Tears
by Montreal Blakely, San Quentin State Prison, CA This is a story by a Black father who loses his son. Where a man should always be buried by his son, instead here I am burying my son. Lil’ Treal died December 15th, 2012. He was murdered by another Black Kid. My son was a seventeen year old football star. He was a senior in high school with a 3.8 average. He had promised his mom and I that he was going to get it up to a 4.0 before he graduated. He wasn’t a perfect son, but he was a
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Volume 26.39/40
Please contact Lisa Lavaysse if you would like to purchase the full PDF or a printed copy of this issue.
Continue ReadingEd Note 26.39/40
Greetings friends of The Beat Within! Welcome to our latest issue, 26.39/40. It is such an honor to share with you all this latest publication of writing and art from inside juvenile hall and beyond. Over the last month, we have been incredibly touched and humbled when dear friends, colleagues, peers, associates, and even strangers reach out to us and offer their respects to us for accomplishing 25 years of The Beat Within. It seems like yesterday we were just getting this program off the ground in San Francisco. Fast forward 25 years and wow, have we seen and done
Continue ReadingDetermined To Do Better
by DJ, Sacramento I am determined to change my old habits, to make a change. I do not know anyone who likes to be in jail, on probation or in the system their whole life. I do not want to be incarcerated my whole life and I do not want my little brothers to follow the same path. It is not worth it, and it is not worth your life. I am determined to do anything to better myself. I can better myself by expanding my learning and by making better choices. For me to succeed, it will take for
Continue ReadingMy Hero
by Jose, Santa Clara My dad is my hero. I’ve always had a good relationship with my dad. My dad was always there for me. He never let me down. He would work from 5am to 10pm at night everyday. Even though he worked late shifts, he still came home and showed me that love. There was always food on the table. He worked hard as a truck driver and as a construction worker. When I was four he was deported to Mexico. A year later, he came back. In that year that he was gone, we lost our house.
Continue ReadingI Write To Connect
by C, Sacramento I write to express myself, to release the pain, or to get things off my shoulders. It’s like if I don’t got no one to talk to, I can write my feelings down on a paper and feel better with myself. I know some of this is published, and it can help someone else by telling my story. Sometimes, they can relate to my story because I read people’s stories that are published and or some books and it helps me, as a person to do better or have a better perspective on some things in life.
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