 Inmates attend class on social behavior during a press tour of the Terrorism Confinement Center, or CECOT, in Tecololuca, El Salvador, Thursday, Oct. 12, 2023. Inmates wear masks as a precaution to not spread COVID-19. (AP Photo) We flew here, not free like a bird flies.
We flew here but there were no cocktails. We flew here but there will be no frequent flyer miles. I heard after we got here, the planes were ordered back. There was no return flight. Turn the planes around. There was no return to the states. Ooops! I'm not from here. I don't want to be here. I don't belong here. They say I'm a gang member, but I'm not. Some of those here may be, but not all. Not me! They line us up and shave our heads. Everyone has hair and then they don't. It's on the floor next to each prisoner. They sweep it all together in a giant dark mound. The bareness feels humiliating. I feel as hollow on the inside as a chocolate easter bunny. I haven't eaten in a while. I don't care to. I could not keep anything down. We cannot talk among ourselves. Guards bark orders at us. Shut up! Sit still! They called me lady. I reply, I'm no landy! Guard replies, you are damn straight. You're a bitch, not a lady. They try and elicit reactions. When we don't answer back they get upset. They want to yank our cords. It’s all mind games. Sitting cross legged. It's been hours since we arrived. Nothing to do. I fear we will rot here.
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 Photo by The Chaffins on Unsplash Dear Reader:
Come quickly before here is a line at the confessional. (kneeling inside... Clears throat) Reader, it has been one week, one missing fountain pen, a fudking spring ahead to daylight savings time. more stressors than I care to mention one really strange dream last night, The start of reading a new book, a lot of unwanted anger directed at one person... okay two and fighting for the rights of my autonomy for my circadian rhythm. Reader, I am angry enough right now to scream, but I will control myself. At least until later. It would be bad for me to scream in the confessional with others in line that might be startled and uneasy by it coming from inside the confessional. I confess that I am angered by more things than I have the time to go over individually presently. I don't want to be seen as a confessional booth hog. So let me sort of wrip some of this up together because the source of the anger boiles down to Trump and Musk. I'm angry at the burning down of normal government operations. The closing down of appartments. At the massive firing of federal emplorees, especially veterans. I'm angry at his attack on the rights of people to protest. The way he is tanking our economy. His attacks against pro-Palintinan protesters and of cource his support for the continued ethnic cleansing in Gaza. I'm very angry at his dumping Ukraine and placating Putin. At the loss of Ukranian lives as a result of pulling the plug on intellegence, and hilitary hardware to defend themselves. I confess I, and every one of my Circadian rythms (as there is one in each cell of my body) are fighting Daylight Savings time. You might think I am being petty, but I am not. On the first week of Daylight Savings Time there are more heart attack than at any other time. Same is true of traffic accidents, and migrain headaches. DST reeks havic on humans. Probably annimals too. I recommend that everyone gets lots of sun to adjust their body as we move into the time shange. I confess I will not be physically in LA for this month's AMP conferance, but I will be virtually present. When I last did it virtually I was less than happy with how much of it was available on line. Tonight, I need to find my fountin Pen. I know it's in the hous, just need to rip the house apart and Find it. LOL I guess I just pretend the house is this country and I'm Trump. Oh God, that is a scary thought. Until next time, stay safe!  Dear Reader:
Follow me quickly to the confessional... It's Been three weeks since my last confession. Three exhausting weeks. You may well feel the same dear reader because it is our president that has been so exhausting. I confess, I don't consider him mine. You may feel the same because many have told me the same. But he just wears me out. I heard someone on the radio say that "They like him he has so much energy. He gets things done." Yes, but they are things I would never do. They are things that do not need to be done, A good many of them are of questionable legal consequence. It's times like these that I go into resistance mood. I write poems about the bad things that are going on. About those in anguish. About people deported, about people in Ukraine that continue to be brutalized by Russia and those in war torn Gaza that have returned home to find neighborhoods in rubble. Of children with too little to eat, and still in danger of war. About people who have lived and garmed in the West Bank for years. Generations even. And how they are met with brutality from Israelis that are trying to force them out of their homes and farms. I confess that I am sad and angry at the same time. It is not a good place to be and I know I am not along. I have started back to school with a new class this semester and I therefore have to share my writing time with assignments. I confess this makes my evenings and weekends difficult. But I shall carry on. I confess that I say a lot of prayers daily for the workers Trump has fired - in most cases without good cause. I confess I do not have kind thoughts about Trump or Musk. I do not wish them well, and I hope they will come to see the harm they have done. I confess that I am not holding my breath that that will happen. I confess that I got my oil changes since my last confession. I am quite proud of myself. I confess I need a haircut. I confess I need to buy new shoes. It is so hard for me to find shoes in a narrow width that fit. The same shoe and style I have been getting from Rockport for some time apparently is not available. They are similar, but not in my size now. Going to have to do a deeper search. Driving along this past week I have an awesome idea for a series of poems that were themed, and I had a title for them. I confess I have been racking my brains out to remember the idea again. Still hopeful it will come to me. That's all dear reader, until next confession. Stay safe. |
AuthorMichael Allyn Wells - notes & musings |
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(c) Michael Allyn Wells - 2017