tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36543393122182746922024-02-20T21:12:41.055-08:00tyrone MunsonFFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-5078771377000527152020-01-16T09:16:00.000-08:002020-01-16T09:16:42.703-08:00On Trust<span style="background-color: #fffffe; font-family: sans-serif;">Trusting someone is not the absence of getting hurt. Trust is one of the many risks we take in life and yes, when we trust, there is always the potential of being disappointed or hurt. But, once we release our energy into the universe of trusting outside of ourselves, we then open up the portals of our minds to receive the ultimate treasures that accompanies trusting someone.</span><br />
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In order to trust someone, we must intrinsically possess this quality. Opening yourself up to trust someone is not about trusting that person; it is about having the capacity to trust yourself. To trust is allotted to each of us during the impressionable stages of our adolescence. The euphoria of childish credulity injects an automated reflect to trust, so we innately posses this quality. Along the tumultuous road of our lives, with each and every encounter, the power of trust appears to become diluted. But, trust should realistically function like a reset button - we should not allow negative experiences with any one person to spill over and affect our next experience with trusting someone else. Rather, we should learn from that experience - eliminate the pain and refocus. The moment we stop trusting ourselves is the moment trust appears skewed or even non-existent. We can blame it on the negative experiences we have encountered, however, trust essentially loses its power when we no longer trust who we are.</div>
Tyrone Munsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115988333186074828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-35741421458634705442019-12-20T06:04:00.001-08:002019-12-20T06:04:09.914-08:00GreatnessLet us not pass up the opportunity in becoming greater than we were yesterday. There is this powerful force of energy compelling us to do something different. To be something different, and to make a difference in someone else's greatness. Yes, let us not give in to the negative energy that can easily entangle us. But rather give into the positive light that looks to shine through you. CarpediemTyrone Munsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115988333186074828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-74049614578535971342019-11-27T09:15:00.001-08:002019-11-27T09:15:31.296-08:00I AM HUMAN<br />
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I AM HUMAN. What exactly does that mean? How is it even possible to be a human in this institution called prison; in this diminutive space where individuals are sentenced to live, to survive day in and day out, forgotten by the majority and cared for by few?</div>
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For 22 years I have lived in this institution called prison. And, for some time now I have lived my day-to-day life by the biblical concept of not boasting about my own abilities; I adhere to being humble and allowing others to praise my accomplishments. And yet, because I have been unknown and forgotten by the majority, I believe that my consciousness and growth is worthy of mention. With great humility, and a lifestyle of worship, I thank Jesus Christ, my God, my Lord and Savior for the strength I now have; he hasn't been just a small part of my life, he has become my life. It was only through my faith in the power of God and, my own willingness to confront my brokenness and insecurities, that I was able to survive under the stench of this gravesite called prison, where human potential is buried alive under the false notion that every prisoner is incorrigible. I chose to go where few are willing to go - inside myself. I became vulnerable and emotionally raw and I have been in a surgical state ever since. Through my faith, counseling and healthy relationships I have developed over the years, I have become a selfless man. At this point, I am the first person to speak in pure disgust of the horrid behaviors that lead to my incarceration. Please try to understand this though.....long before this physical confinement, I was already trapped and being held captive. I read long ago that "freedom is a state of mind, not of being." I was imprisoned the moment I bought into the lie that I was worthless, the moment I believed that I was ugly. I was held captive after each and every time I was mentally abused or bullied. Emotionally stripped because of constant verbal abuse; my identity void of any form or shape, radically defined by molestation. </div>
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Research suggests that "adolescent brains are shaped by experiences in early life." and, that "the years between 6 and 14—middle childhood and early adolescence—are a time of important developmental advances that establish children's sense of identity." <br />
Believe me when I say that I did not aspire to be the worst of myself. As a child I did have dreams. I wanted to be a policeman; I wanted to be a fire fighter and I believed at one point that I could be a doctor. Unfortunately, at a very young age, my self-worth was stolen<br />
and consequently all of my adolescent year's were spent believing that I did not matter, that I did not have a voice for the years of abuse I endured. Most adults have had the opportunity to learn how to effectively manage emotions, but to put that expectation on a child, to properly process physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, is absurd! For kids, emotions often feel like a runaway train; they show up suddenly, crashing. Internally I was on fire, burning; I felt excruciating pain, but as a child I did not know how to properly process what I was experiencing, nor did I have anyone to help me process my emotions - a sure track to failure and inadequacy. To believe that on top of me being abused and I in turn abusing drugs and alcohol at the young age nine that I would some how have self-love is again absurd! I remember wishing that I was dead at the age of seven - at the age of seven year's old! Come on people! That was the time when I should not have had a care in the world! Because of my unstable environment and conflicted family life, <br />
I never got to feel the joy and freedom of being a child;<br />
I was often so sad and afraid that I did not want to live. I essentially lost my childhood. <br />
Those were also the impressionable years, when I was vulnerable, susceptible to and easily influenced by the harmful and hurtful attitudes and behaviors of others close to me; a critical time in my life to establish healthy behaviors. At the age of 17, I could no longer take it. Every vicious word, every punch from bullies, every beating from my mother manifested itself. Every sex act I was forced to perform, every rejection, I could no longer hold it in. I was hurting so terribly but no one helped me. So those were the ingredients that produced my actions, my perceptions during my adolescent years, and the way I digested the abuse, manifested itself in a vicious way.</div>
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I am not claiming that I was innocent in the least bit. As a child I was extremely troubled and I projected it on others - undeserving people who would become the host of my hell. In my right mind there is absolutely no way that I can accept, nor excuse such behavior. But, please don't disregard the fact that I too was abused; I was misinformed and lied to. This is my past and part of my healing process is embracing all of me. So, while it is true that I may not have felt safe, loved or enough as a child, I eventually felt the importance of taking responsibility for my life—for how those old wounds kept me disempowered, and for the impact they had on those around me. I believed that I needed to reclaim my power, my freedom to choose to be how I wanted to be, and to have the capacity to live a joyful life, despite my current circumstances. I knew that I needed to find that place within me where I felt loved and enough.</div>
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I am no longer controlled by unresolved childhood issues; I have not allowed those issues to spill over into my adulthood. I am not a man-child. I am driven by such a powerful force of grace and mercy that my heart is saturated with a wealth of love. I have such an appreciation for the processes of self-discovery, self-respect, and self-love. These attributes were absent in my youth. I was robbed of my birthright to be cultivated in love; robbed of the opportunity to have unlimited access to properly develop and reach my greatest potential. I turned instead, into the ugliness that was inflicted upon me. One can not expect me to care about anyone outside of myself when I was taught to hate my own skin. Some would think, "In the midst of the living dead, what good could come out of the grave?"</div>
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I am now an adult but, in this day and age, what does this really mean? To me it means contribution. It means empowering myself and others to be the very best that they can be. Should I get a chance to prove that I can thrive in society? With all of the love and support I have had throughout my journey and with all the love and support I now have, should I get a chance to prove how sorry I really am? I am not a monster and almost 23 years of consistently being selfless proves that. I love myself and it took time to do that and, as a result of self-love, I genuinely know how to celebrate others. I have allowed my faith in God, the love of all my supporters and therapy to transform my whole foundational truth and that was astronomical! But I did it!</div>
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And now, because I believe I exemplify the true embodiment of metamorphosis, I heartily plead for one chance. One chance to become a study for college students as well as to further my own education. One chance to be a pillar of my community. One chance to stand in front of a church service and share my testimony. One chance to work with troubled youth because in my own right, with the work I have done to rebuild myself and assist others, I am a motivational speaker and a personal trainer.<br />
I would love nothing more than to take my mother out to dinner; to shower my daughter with the love she deserves and the benefit of a father's presence in her life. I would love to spend quality time with my girlfriend. </div>
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I believe I am a living testament that hard work and a desire to be greater than the less of myself has produced strength and greatness. Each day I wake up is a blessing. I was determined not to remain in captivity therefore, I am no longer internally imprisoned. I am considerate, I listen, I express my emotions in a healthy manner and I am not afraid to cry. I always look to help others. I feel obligated to bring to light my actions; I am committed to breaking the cycle of silence when it comes to male abuse and I am committed to being a voice for women who have been sexually abused. I recently read this quote, "To get out of the average trap, you need to find your purpose. As a result, you’ll live your destiny." I believe that I am living my destiny. I am not afraid to live in truth. One day I strongly desire to get out of prison, but the most important desire was to first get the prison out of me. I believed that if I didn't first go through the difficult, labor intensive and exhausting transformation of conquering my brokenness there was no way that I could care about all of the pain I've caused. I also believed that if I was not sincere about change I didn't deserve a chance at freedom. </div>
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I am motivated, I have positive energy and I encourage everyone around me to be better. I like to make people laugh and l have a big heart. I care about everything and everyone. I promote self worth the most. Why? Because if an individual doesn't care, "truly care" about themselves then there is not going to be a human connection to care about someone else. I came to prison at the age of 17 and I will soon be 40 years old. Over the years my adult self has helped my adolescent self heal and grow. Because of this I have been, and will continue on a life-long mission. If greatness can be produced in me, then I know that those who don't believe that they have that same greatness, truly need my help. I am no longer a threat to society, I am a thread. Today I aspire to give back to the community; to help those kids struggling now without love and support and to guide them on their journeys to greatness. I want to be a part of the many, yet unfortunately still too few, social justice programs in our communities.</div>
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I genuinely thank you for taking the time to read this letter and please, let's begin a dialogue. Hopefully this has opened your minds and your hearts and if nothing else, has opened your eyes to my reality, and to the reality of many others within these walls. I AM HUMAN.<br />
<span style="color: #4285f4;">#iamhumantoo</span> </div>
<br />Tyrone Munsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115988333186074828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-31158951089931972822018-12-28T20:47:00.001-08:002020-01-16T08:58:22.417-08:00On Love<span style="background-color: #fffffe; font-family: sans-serif;">It is impossible to capsulize the incandescent passion that exudes from the power of love. The true essence of love not only permeates through the hearts of those in it's wake, but it penetrates the fortified layers and walls that might have been constructed around the perimeter of one's heart to keep at bay those who pose as an imposter of love. We do many things "in the name of love" or "for the sake of love", yet we unconsciously ignore it's intricacies. </span><br />
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Intrinsic love does not conform; it does not assimilate, nor does it settle into a monotonous pattern of a mundane marriage or relationship. The highest expression of love is manifested in the form of God's love, but the human experience or expression of love is experiencing more of who you are; to expand the limitations that were etched on the canvas of your heart as a result of synthetic love. Synthetic love mimics the real thing. It gets you high, yet it deceives the receptors of your mind; it tricks you into believing that instead of becoming a better you, you become a lesser version of your created being. It's as if you have to compromise your individuality. </div>
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Authentic love on the other hand, enhances your ability to see your self-worth. It heightens your awareness and promotes truth. It never stops searching for the treasures buried deep inside your core. Love searches the depths of your soul to reignite the fires long since put out due to complacency. The number one law of love, evolution, has been disrespected. Love evolves to a higher degree of love. Love never stops challenging you. Love never stops being responsive and receptive. Love celebrates, and appreciates and steps up every single day to be held accountable.</div>
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Love has a definitive view of what beauty looks like and understands that external beauty is subjective, while internal beauty is priceless. Love sees pass the blemishes, wrinkles, grey hair, stretch marks and weight gain. The ultimate task of love is to assist in helping one to embrace their insecurities, all while breaking unhealthy habits, not by force, but by example. Love is truthful and complimentary as well. Sorry, but love doesn't hurt, it heals. It looks you into the eye with sincerity and tells you how blessed it is to have you. It is honored to have an opportunity to be a vessel to pour God's love into you. All you have to do is wake up and love will take it from there. There is absolutely no abuse in love! In love, petty disputes do not fester into raging fueds. Love leaves no room for insults and with love we never go to bed angry at one another. Being in love lets you know that to offend each other is equivalent to holding your breath under water.</div>
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There are addendums to love - the feelings of elation, anticipation, the intoxicating feeling, the longing to be around the energy of love, missing the presence of love. Love activates the five senses - the touch, the smell, the taste, the hearing and the sight of your glory. Colors remind you of love's language. There's laughter, music, food, dancing, tears of joy. There are many attachments to love, but love really stands on it's own. Love lingers longer than the honeymoon phases of ecstasy. Love wraps it's arm around you and tells you that you are worthy, that you are protected and that it respects you. Even your imperfections are perfect because they only make up the subtotal of your whole self. At your core, you were created pure. Before you were predisposed to a false representation of love, you were free; there was no inhibition, no reservations and, your capacity to trust was limitless. </div>
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As I said at the very beginning, it is difficult to capsulize love. Even with these finite words, love is so much more! </div>
Tyrone Munsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115988333186074828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-60127585377109364262018-12-28T14:52:00.000-08:002018-12-28T21:20:53.584-08:00How much time is enough?<div id="yiv6769449942yMail_cursorElementTracker_1545400567908" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: #fffffe; box-sizing: border-box;">
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">After 20 years, I remain in a war zone fighting for my physical freedom, all while attempting to preserve my mental, emotional and spiritual freedom. Everyday of the 20 years that I have been incarcerated has been spent reconstructing the damage and trauma caused to me in my childhood. Twenty years in a prison cell has been spent rediscovering and redefining my humanity. I was not remotely comfortable with the manner in which I treated what I now know to be the greatest creation on earth, aside from a precious child. To this day it continues to be difficult to digest all of the hurt and heartache that I have caused and I do believe that I deserved to come to prison. Yet the question still remains, "How much time is enough time for me to be able to prove that I am not the same individual that I was?" Almost 21 years served and my mentality and my everyday behaviors reflect a genuine transformation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">Please understand that prison is an unforgiving and unrelentingly environment; it constantly reminds you of how horrible of a person you really are. There are no accolades or incentives for accomplishments, yet punishment is swift. So, bear in mind that changing for the better is not inevitable, especially when a child is sentenced to 290 years in a broken prison system. Along my journey for redemption and self-discovery there has been an awakening for me. I don't know if it was because of my determination to discover why and how I could get to the point of displaying such ugliness on undeserving human beings, or because goodness is innately a strong character trait and it was buried beneath all of the falsehood and brokenness. All I know you guys is that everything I have worked extremely hard to accomplish is in jeopardy. I know many of you reading this will say, "So what? You are getting what you deserve!" I get that. Ignorance (not knowing), prevents you from seeing the reciprocal need for the same mercy many of you desperately needed at one point in your life. Despite popular opinion, I have not succumbed, nor have I assimilated to the concentrated, toxic negativity that engulfs this prison </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">Yet, how much longer does one expect me to sustain under the deep pressures of the raging water that looks to drown me? I exemplify a profound amount of sorrow, regret, sympathy and empathy; every fiber in my being looks to bring out the best in myself and others. As much as I wish, hope and pray that I can take back every hurt, every pain and every experience that came at the hands of my brokenness, I can't; just as I cannot undo the abuse that I endured. I can only strive to be the man that I am today. I am not looking to be celebrated, because a huge part of my penitance is to be selfless. If you were to ask me, "What is one of the most important lessons that I have learned since my incarceration?", it would be that I am a part of something greater than myself; that I'm on a harmonious level with humanity, interconnected. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">I hurt parts of me and others that were hurting; I damaged and destroyed the parts of me and others that had been damaged and destroyed. The individuals that I hurt was the manifestation of all the hurt I had endured; by being hurt, I hurt others. And, on the opposite spectrum, by being healed, I can help heal others, if they are open and willing to heal. I am frustrated and tired of having what I have done overshadow the decent and caring human being that I have become. For anyone in prison, that is an extraordinary feat! NO ONE wants to be judged and condemned for their worst mistake as a child. Current research now shows that adolescents differ from adults in the way they behave, solve problems, and make decisions; an adolescent brain continues to mature and develop throughout adolescence and well into early adulthood. Prison robs one of any real meaningful opportunity to grow into and express their best self and to love. I feel like I am buried alive! I am being suffocated by the constant mistreatment and negativity that accompanies being in prison. Again, many of you will say, "You are getting what you have coming to you!". I firmly believe that this response is very unfortunate because many people in society are not knowledgeable of the dynamics of incarceration and have become insensitive and extremely vengeful - a vengeance that if you were in my shoes, you would be urgently and eagerly seeking the same mercy. The mercy I seek is for the transgressions of my youth, a chance for redemption, not to be released and be a nuisance to society. My intentions are to make an impact on society and specifically on my community in a meaningful, tangible and positive way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">I sincerely thank you for and truly appreciate the time you have taken to read this post. Please encourage others in your circle to do the same. I look forward to hearing your feedback and hope that I have inspired you and/or given you something to ponder. Future posts of mine will hopefully do the same.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">Sincerely, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;">Devon</span></div>
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Tyrone Munsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14115988333186074828noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-75027024206386326562017-06-26T09:04:00.003-07:002018-12-28T20:23:11.557-08:00Tyrone Muson Affidavit<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">
Tyrone D Munson #356816</div>
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GBCI;PO Box 19033</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13px;">Green Bay, WI 54307</span><br />
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It is my greatest hope that those who read this don’t just put it down but allow this to linger for awhile in their minds. My heart goes out to the victims affected by the vicious acts committed against them almost 20 years ago. It has always been my hope, prayer and constant thought that they were somehow able to rebuild after all the hurt and pain I have caused.<br />
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My name is Tyrone Munson and now at age 37, my heart is in constant agony and contrition. At the age of 17 (mentally the age of 12) I was so lost, so broken, with no self worth from constant blows and physical abuse- getting beat with extension cords until I bled, being mentally and emotionally abused by those closest to me all while holding in the sexual abuse done to me by older women of close friends and family members.<br />
This is not something you can wash away in the shower. So I consumed huge amount of alcohol. This only fueled my low esteem. I was in so much pain I tried several time s to kill myself. No father, mother using drugs, so poverty destroyed any chances of social or economic advancements. I was always getting jumped and bullied at school .People talking about me because I didn’t have the latest fashion. I was so alone, I didn’t have any skills to articulate all the suffering I lived every day. So I internalized it until it manifested itself in the form of pure hatred and anger/rage. People always say we have a choice. And I do believe that but now that I think my choices, they were deeply rooted in a negative environment. I didn’t know any better except darkness, misery. I wish someone can understand if I could have seen past the torture/turmoil, I highly doubt it would have turned out the way it did. The man I am now will shock you I terms of the depth of my soul. I have so much positive energy you will be amazed. More about that later.<br />
The saying is truth: Hurt people hurt people. I was robbed of my innocence, stripped of my human birth right/identity to even have a fighting chance to know my self worth. I hated my existence on this earth, wishing desperately to die. Finally, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I exploded, destroying everything and everyone in my wake like a monsoon. With no one in particular, I began to wreck havoc on my community. I did not start out with a life of crime, actually at one point I was at the top of some of my classes I school. After consuming about a liter of alcohol and doing drugs,”I snapped!”. I completely snapped! In about a week in time span, I brutally beat up several men,I robbed many people , and I sexually assaulted several women. I went from Never, ever getting into trouble with the law to receiving 290 years in prison. Almost 20 years later the attributes I possess now contradicts the broken boy I was. Society must know that no one gets restorative justice until, the Just is restored in US. Until I begin to heal and know thy self I would never come to know how horrific my crimes were. I have a very interesting transformation process. But to sum it up, I am a great, humble man.<br />
In 2015 without warning, I died. I went into cardiac arrest/sudden death. They say it was from a virus attacking my heart called myocarditis. Others believe I suffered from a broken heart or from high concentrations of lead in the water. I believe it was because of the mental and emotional breakdown I had as a result of being in this negative environment. I still have work to do, I still face trauma. I am desperately trying to get to a place that assists with that. But at this moment I am being prohibited. I have been through a lot- too much to put on paper. But I can assure you this one thing. In sheer humility I have been compared to Marin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi. I recognize greatness yet I battle sameness. I will do more good in society than I can incarcerated. I deserve a second chance because I never had my first chance. I owe everyone, and the best way to show it is through my everyday actions. No more victim is my motto, no more ignorance; a selfless servant. A second chance, he’s no longer a boy, he’s now a man.<br />
<br />
more on near death experience in 2016(written 6 16)<br />
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<span style="color: #999999;"><a href="https://ffupstuff.files.wordpress.com/2016/06/tyrone-munson-for-blog-6-12-16-1.pdf">near death experience:https://ffupstuff.files.wordpress.com/2016/06/tyrone-munson-for-blog-6-12-16-1.pdf</a></span></div>
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FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-35524671199101423312016-06-12T14:15:00.000-07:002016-06-12T14:15:20.500-07:00new troubles/ near death experience<a href="https://ffupstuff.files.wordpress.com/2016/06/tyrone-munson-for-blog-6-12-16-1.pdf">https://ffupstuff.files.wordpress.com/2016/06/tyrone-munson-for-blog-6-12-16-1.pdf</a>FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-41603872471808774792015-08-02T18:03:00.001-07:002017-06-26T09:10:01.159-07:00Black Lives Matter<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Black Lives Matter</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Black lives Shattered, Black morals scattered. The value of our lives
doesn’t make sense so a change for a dollar isn’t spent. It is a genocide of
our people as well as self inflicted wounds so it is lethal injections of
hatred, police brutality <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Michael Brown.</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Eric
Gardner</b> cried “I can’t breathe” as they wrestled him to the ground! Walking
down the streets while minding his own <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trayvon
Martin</b> was killed that night he did not make it home- this is the same ole
song, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Jordan Davis</b> was maliciously
shot for playing his<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>music too loud.
Nine innocent lives in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">South Carolina </b>while
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percent of America’s population while more than 50 percent of young Black males
are losing their lives to incarcerations with no education.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What a devastation!” This nation is
supposed to be the land of the free. Yet death and prison seem to be the only “just
us” for you and me. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Martin Luther King</b>
had a dream. Yet I doubt if he saw his vision becoming a night mare. It doesn’t
take a genius to see that justice has become deaf, blind and ignorant. ”Something
isn’t right here!” <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Tamir Rice</b> was
shot and killed for playin with a fake gun just having fun. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Derrick Williams</b> pleaded for his life
while in the back of a police car. His cries was taken as a joke his hope to
live evaporated like smoke. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ramero Kidd,
Dontae Hamilton,Mike Bell, Bo</b> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Morris,
Tony Robinson and countless others </b>who died for being Black. Lives that
were taken we can never get them back. Will we ever win? It seems like we’re constantly
under attack. The way we are killing and hating each other you would think that
we are not proud to be black. Although the confederate flag has come down there
is still a confederation of the heart. Racism is a prison of darkness to see no
color is an art; formed by God in the minds of his people. Yet we are still being
killed and the equation is subtraction –minus black lives being equal. There is
no multiplication-just division amongst our own people.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Demonstrations and rallies as many gather against this evil. Will black
lives be worth more than a 60 second commercial on TV? Or will we forever be
judged by the pigment or our divine beings? Every time you turn on the news the
depiction of black images are severely bruised and battered. When will it come
a day that BLACK LIVES REALLY MATTER? </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Echo Devon</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Tyrone D Munson 356816</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">GBCI , PO Box 19033</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Green Bay, WI 54307</span></div>
FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-4436679752997461282015-08-02T18:01:00.003-07:002015-08-02T18:01:57.643-07:00Boy Inside the Man, 17 years a slave, Darkness and 2 others<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Boy Inside the Man 2 4 15</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who will cry for the little boy, the boy
inside the man? Who tried desperately to get approval from those who confessed
they love you. Those who refused to hug you with utter distain they judged you,
you will never amount to anything is a constant broken record the song sings,
of your hopes and dreams. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The silent
screams of physical, sexual and emotional abuse. The boy's mind unable to fully
process this traumatic experience, so he naturally becomes a recluse. Who will
cry for the little boy, the boy inside the man whose sense of security was
stripped by impurities vile and vicious acts destroyed any possible chance of
his self worth to ever bounce back. Blacked eyes were covered by make-up, the
boy inside the man afraid to wakeup. Wishing death because at such an
impressionable age he confesses there is nothing left. Who will cry for the
little boy even though the man that embodies him can't, because he was taught
that to display this emotion made him smaller than the size of an ant. Who will
cry for the man inside who the boy still controls, the inability to fully trust
someone- the pain all the memories hold .Seems there is no reason to cry when
love dies inside. When you just want to hide, when the very essence of who you
are is answered with a question marked why? Who will help the boy and the man
to become one in his own identity? To restore hope and understanding in
defining true masculinity. The man will cry for the little boy inside when he
learns the freedom of being free. Then I will cry tears of joy for that little
boy inside of me. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">17 years a slave</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">17 a
slave mastered by my thoughts being the plantation-it is my mind that struggles
with white colors of hope, my heart dark so with them -they both are considered
racist-now pay attention because I am lynching my own identity to be defined is
as a real man-I liken my self-worth at birth, to tne foul smells of a garbage
can- and at the hands of my oppressed mental state. I have received thousands
of psychological lashes-deep cut lacerations to my soul leaves fresh wounds or
infected gashes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Ashes
describe “at best” the hollowness I feel, a battle uphill gives the enemy in me
the advantage-17 years alone the way life has taken away numerous companions- In
this tug of war that I abhor I question my very existence-will I die on the
front line because I fail to escape my prison? 17 years a river flow of tears
has washed away my ability to hope-like a long lasting heroin addiction I feel
addicted yet misery is my dope.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Make-up</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The
veneer of my exterior appears to be strong. I feel defeated, incomplete and
nevertheless I feel alone. In the hollowness of my soul there lies a
desperation to be made whole although I smile just for a little while. I am
losing all control. To some, I seem bold and confident when I speak while
others detect my flaws and see that I have become weak. Do you consider me less
of a man because it is love I seek? Are my expectations too high to be embraced
just for being me? They say the truth hurts that's why a lot of people reject
it .While others masquerade living a lie as if they accept it. I respect it but
in this truth it is hard for me to cope, to come to grips with my reality I
conclude there's little hope. I have no distractions I can’t pretend that it’s
not there. I can't act like it doesn't bother me or like I really don't care.
Wearing make-up over blemishes in my life has caused me so much pain. To carry
the burden of a heavy load is starting to drive me mentally insane. Now I am
stuck because who can I trust when majority wears a mask? When in my face you
seem concerned, and behind my back you talk or laugh. I don't understand
because the man I am now is not who I want to be and I am afraid because my
identity defines my core beliefs. How could I move on when the very essence of
my life/ the wounds cut so deep with a knife it has severed my ability to
fight. At night I cry because I'm in search for momentary relief. Please
somebody help me somehow I lost my vision to see. Can you hear me, the silence
of my inner fear screams so loud, everything that I have seen in the past has
finally chased me down- a man in search for meaning yet none have been found.
Restless, this seems like one bad break up every time I wake up I am a man who
subconsciously put on makeup.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Darkness</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A
volcanic eruption has taken place in the cerebrum of my mind-The lava has
severely burned portions of how I am to be defined- In the wake of a hurricane
my emotions have been misplaced by the wreckage of my past-yet I must rebuild
as in the aftermath of Katrina form a memorial and say my condolences like
September 9/11 and lay to rest the old things that had meaning. Out of darkness
some of the most beautiful things are created -After nine months in the womb of
a woman comes the birth of a beautiful baby-when the night falls and the light
ceases to be, the earth cracks open out of darkness starts the growth of a
flower or tree. When the morning comes and the eyes are still shut, deep into a
vision or a dream. Those thoughts created in the darkest hour of the night turns
into a reality. Or how about a precious pearl, better yet the metamorphosis in
the cocoon that turns a caterpillar into a butterfly. They say diamonds are a
girl's best friend but before it is merely crystalline carbon they must go
through the process of being retrieved out of darkness. Then there is gold
which goes through fire to be desired. All while in darkness there is a
brokeness that transpires. I am no exception. Although a man of many flaws, I
have the ability to come from nullity to the greatest of them all. Why me? Well
why not me, if I possess the attribute of strength to experience the true
meaning behind this pain. To embrace it as part of me so that I am able to
sustain under the extreme of pressures that try to overpower my will.<br />
To overcome the thought that tells me “You have no reason to live!”,Out of
darkness shines a light that shines so bright in me it can't be denied! No
matter how much dirt is thrown on it, it grows stronger time after time. I am a
king and will not be defeated by the peasantry of my past mistakes. No matter
how dark it gets in my life the sun comes up “everyday.” I have a choice,
better yet, I have a voice to be the very best I could ever be. However it
starts in the dark room developing the best photographs I see on the inside of
me. I smile because now I do believe in darkness. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">War Cry</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
it's time I rise from the grave. Dusting off the cobwebb in the cave of my
mind, as I gaze. At the sun, as I run, into the hands of hope. Lifting me to a
higher purpose as I soak my feet in the sand of peace and tranquility.
Recognizing my fullest potential and capabilities. No longer being bound by the
sounds of my surroundings. Not allowing my emotions to overwhelm me until I'm
drowning. Beating my chest because At last I found my calling. Helping the
broken hearted and being a helping hand to the falling. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Using my pain and tears as war gear and
motivation. Accepting that “I” am the orchestra to the symphony that I am
playing in. I am tired of lies being repeated. Every time I feel good about
myself I am the one who delete it. No I’m not conceited but I have to believe
it. Easier said than done but I was once told not impossible. It Takes courage,
hope, faith and strength to climb over any obstacle. So today I'm making a
declaration and saying misery isn't for me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have decided to break the chains of my
past and strive to be the best man that I can be. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Echo Devon</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-10618792590414699252015-08-01T16:05:00.000-07:002015-08-02T17:59:58.697-07:00 Human Suffering and Prisonology<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<li>Human Suffering</li>
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“In giving meaning to the suffering it becomes endurable,”
they say suffering ceases to be suffering the moment is finds<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>meaning. Meaning is something we “discover
rather than invent.” We find it through living, through love, creating things
and the way we choose to see things. What is the meaning of human suffering? </div>
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I can only conclude that it is a part of life that we cannot
escape. Whether we use it as a means of growth or we allow it to destroy our
psychological defenses. Human suffering could only be neutralized when we
embrace it. For so long my emotions became my adversary and in this I suffer
simply because I was against my own existence. If only for mere survival I must
somehow become an ally of my suffering. I must embrace those emotions that has
plagued me for many years. Yet how do I Surrender to a foe? Me, myself and I
have been in constant battle ever since I failed to adhere to the signs of
emotional oppression. Yes, I am convinced that we are creators of our own
suffering. We imprison ourselves based on what we think should be.</div>
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<br />
Tyrone Devon Munson W.C.I #356816 P.O. Box 351 Waupun Wi 53963<br />
Anyone is welcome to write to me.<br />
<br />
9-27-10<br />
Prisonology:<br />
A distant ride away from home after being sentenced to death. Trying desperately to hold it all together but knowing there is nothing left. Subconsciously in shock, not able to wrap my mind around this reality. The only thing I could feel is my life being sucked out of me. As I stare out of the window, I can tell that I'm traveling further away from home. Tears begin to run down my cheek, I notice that I'm all alone.<br />
I close my eyes for a second, hoping and praying this is only a dream. I tried hard but nothing could really block out the time that I've just received. Not fully understanding the pain that was caused. Only the wrongs that was done to me. A true revelation in this manifestation of what I call prisonology.<br />
The core concept of prisonology is that there is a depravation in the heart and mind of a man-child. For him to be able to understand the ramifications of his actions, he must first realize or have some type of self-worth. Physical prison is only a prototype of the mental, emotional and environmental or spiritual prison a man-child face. I use this word prisonology because it is a typology of one suffers in his environment.<br />
Depravation is caused when a person lacks the ability to feel for not only himself, but others around him. A child who grows up socially and economically challenged: Surrounded or enveloped in a cesspool of drugs and alcoholism, as well as gang violence. Stands a lesser chance of developing into a productive citizen. A boy who suffers from an identity crisis because he has no father figure or role model. Quickly hardens his heart for mere survival purposes.<br />
Even if he is raised by his mother or grandmother. The callousness is still brought on because of the environment he grows up in. If a man-child is not taught self-worth, he will have no concept or care for anyone else. For every behavior is a learned behavior. Children who are raised in a single parent home (mainly by the mother), poverty stricken neighborhoods and no real investment into that child's education. Will probably end up in prison or dead.<br />
Prison is a state of mind, not of being. Grown boys who are in prison now, were already in a prison growing up. As we can see today, prison takes on more than just one form. Many are in a prison of abuse. Whether it be physical or emotional, a lot of people suffer from this prison. No matter what the prison is, those who are convicted to do physical time is scrutinized because of the harm done to the community.<br />
<br />
Instead of spending more tax paying dollars on warehousing these pre-inmates. When the very foundation of our children's education is at stake.<br />
1. There must be a greater investment and this investment must begin with Psychologically and Spiritually getting the prison out of that person. Now more than ever, teen-agers are being locked up in physical prison. To do life in a system that has taken rehabilitation completely out of the process. Well you may be thinking there is no real need to rehabilitate a man-child who will spend the rest of his life behind bars.<br />
Is this what society call justice? No matter what the case may be studies shows that the development of a child's brain doesn't stop until the ages of 25 to 28. Can you honestly tell me that a 15, 16, or 17 year old child. Probably at the mental age of 11 or 12 years old can not change? To consider what I am saying. That a lot of children suffer harsh punishments as a child. Being sexually abused, being emotionally abused. As well as physical abuse. If most of there childhood they have been program to believe all of these lies. That you are a nobody. Getting bullied by other kids, nobody accepting you because you are not socially acceptable. This imprison a child to believe this is who he really are. There is no way a child can escape this prison. Without the help of a responsible adult.<br />
Prisonology is formulated based upon facts:<br />
1. Breaking the cycle by creating awareness, "self-awareness"!<br />
Enrichment of self-worth by revealing the value he possess. It wasn't until I was enlighten with how valuable I was. That I started to value other peoples lives.<br />
2. Reassessment, Instead of hoping, wishing and praying asking God to help us get out of prison. The focus should be to get the prison out of us first. This comes by a reassessment of core values. There must be a foundation of core principals that one could build on. Education is key. However a spiritual awareness also plays a major role in the transformation.<br />
3. The Detoxification stage: Challenging all the negative beliefs taught by his environment and household. Replacing those negative beliefs with a true identity.<br />
4. Then Contrition: Understanding the impact of our actions and then how to give back.<br />
Make no mistake, many of us are imprisoned. What seem to effect society the most is the institutional prison that cost lots of money. You wouldn't have to be tough on crime if you are tougher on education. If you are tougher on understanding the root of the problem. I am a firm believer in prisonology because I realized the many prisons I was in. Granted if I was assisted in escaping those prisons. I then wouldn't be here now. I am no longer bound by the prison of my past. It is however my present condition I wrestle with.<br />
Mainly because I have been reconstructed, remodeled, rebuilt, and. reborn. Never to offend again! Because I have a tremendous amount of self respect. So now I am able to love and respect others. Unfortunately it took them giving me all of this time in physical prison. To get out of the 17 year old prison that I was in. I stand to die in prison for something I did as a teen-ager. Wake up society this is real. The attention of this matter is important. "Just look at how many kids are dropping out of school. Versus how many are coming to prison. ><br />
Tyrone Munson W.C.I #356816 P.O. Box 351 Waupun Wi 53963FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-13717870273975814102010-11-17T16:07:00.000-08:002010-11-18T16:54:15.465-08:00history of this juvenile offender<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> 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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <br />Tyrone D Munson #35616<br />PO Box 351<br />Waupun , Wi 53963<br /><br /><br />I too was a Juvenile, first time offender who before my crime took place was not in trouble with the law. Never been to juve, did not even have a violent history. Got sentenced to 290 years in prison when I was 17 years old. At the mental age of a 12 year old. My crime was not a reflection of my daily living. But was a result of the many unresolved childhood issues I never had a chance to properly release. In turn I violently raped a women. Which in turn did not feed anything other than the hate, bitterness, anger, pain, and me being raped. Not only of my childhood innocents, but my ability to properly express what was taking place as a child. There will never be a right justification to what I've done. But I can say my actions now reflect that of a different person. From a boy to a man. The reality of this situation is even in prison. I still battle this hierarchy of what crime is the worst crime to commit.<br /><br /><br /><br />You couldn't have told me that I would be in prison for sexual assault. Not only because I knew it was wrong but it was not socially acceptable in my community. Neither is it in prison, which I still can't understand how can one shun a rapist, but accept a murderer. That always puzzled me. For the simple fact both crimes you have taken the security away from that person. Except in a murder that person doesn't have to feel it. It will be the family who feels it so to me both are equally wrong. All in all unfortunately I have this jacket, and I have to wear it so I might-as-well speak out about it. The harsh reality is a lot of young as well as older men is coming to prison for rape. But many of them never get treatment. Most still deny it only because again it is socially "not cool"!<br /><br /><br /><br />Yes I am ashamed of the things I've done but I refuse to continue to make it about me. I did the crime, and society wants me to do forever for what I did as a child. I truly believe that I can be of some assist-ance to come to understanding the why behind the will to do something so horrendous. I want to share my story in the hopes of enlightment. Not saying people won’t still have there opinions. However it will give one a pen point.<br /><br /><br />Written by: Echo DeVon (Tyrone D. Munson)FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-23743153297161721522010-11-16T16:08:00.000-08:002010-11-18T16:29:56.680-08:00Congratulations Graduate!!Congratulations, you graduated/ but no one will call your name. No there will be no roll call. "There will Be no acceptance speech!" You did not make the deans list. You just simply graduated. Sad though, no mother, no father, no sister, or no brother. No one to cheer your name, what for? No one came to honor you, Congratulations, for your Graduation.<br /> "Who do you think you are?"<br />To receive such a prestigious award. You only survived a house hold of trauma. There is no blue ribbon because your father left you at an early age. You don't get a courageous of the year award trophy, because you survived the family secret, and your mother's shame. That at the hands of someone you trusted. They did awful things to you. "Ha" you think it noble, there is no B.A./ there is no Master's Degree.<br /><br />No your degrees are third degree burns, that run from your face to your torso. From hot greases being thrown on you because your mother say; every time she looks at you she sees your father. A mathematician, never saw that in your future. Besides, you are too damn stupid for that, at least this is what everyone is telling you. Do you want to be a mathematician? Well solve this problem. One mother on crack, plus a father who is not even a part of your life which really is a minus. Divided by drugs, alcohol, and dropping out of school. Equals committing a crime, ending up in prison, or dead.<br /><br />Yeah "Congratulations" as you look into the mirror. You have come to hate him that stares back at you. Because now you believe everything people said about you. You're ugly, you will never amount to anything, and that you were a mistake. No you shouldn't have low self-esteem. Suck it up, didn't they tell you real men aren't suppose to cry. But this boy who is only 11 years old says to himself, I am not a man. Though indeed he is a man, however the only thing he can remember was when he was this boy. Now at the age of 33 he is still stuck at 11.<br /><br /> Congratulations on your Graduation.<br />For this time you have made a stand, from being powerless to powerful. You are honored for your silent courage. You are praised for your resilience. Not backing down from when life smacked you around. Congratulations because you Graduated from a school that had no dreams, the teachers have all failed you but you'passed- Not because of some book that told you this. Or you telt that you needed validation from someone else. Not even some papers acknowledging mere accomplishments, not even this seem to suffice.<br />No Congratulations you Graduated, because you chose not to stay in a box, you did not make excuses. You chose not to allow your past to say who you are in the present. So I think I should Congratulate you on your Graduation, there is no need for a cap and gown, please be proud of who you've become. Hold your head up and stand tall, yeah that's it now smile for the camera. You made it. Not how others think you should have but you made it......"Congratulations on your Graduation......<br /><br />This is for anyone who have went through anything in your life. I want you to understand that you have graduated from a school of life. If you are in your right mind. I think you should be proud of yourself. Not for the many bad things that happen to you, but for making it this far. It counts for something Congratulations.FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-33727893064130701972010-11-15T16:11:00.000-08:002010-11-18T16:31:00.923-08:003 Poems/Statements<span style="font-weight: bold;">Family</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(The New reality)<br /><br />I was born out of my mother's womb, on January 26, 1980.<br /><br />Shortly thereafter, I was adopted by a different family. This was a family of a different race, a family of a whole different creed. This new family I was adopted by, treats me worse than a red headed step child(as they would say).<br /><br />Our parents never reward us for the many tries. We are always punished though if we do wrong. My brother's,(All boys because this family has no girls)are all different in many ways. We all come from the same mother of bad choices and wrong decisions. We rarely talk about mother, because sometimes it seems to painful to face. If we do talk about mother, it tends to have a negative effect on us. Leaving us angry, bitter, sad, and depressed. Mainly because, if we had listened to our real parents, We wouldn't have to face the ugly truths of our other mother. Bad choices and wrong decisions.<br /><br />What can I say, my family is so dysfunctional. On top of this we all have major issues, some of my brother's are killers. many of my brothers sold drugs, a lot of them raped women, robbed there own birth mothers, smoked dope, drinked liquor and stole things."You name it we did it"! Like I said we all are alike in some ways. We all have taken something. We all have stole something or something have been stolen from us. Any way it goes we are here, The sad part about is, alot of us did not have our birth fathers. So now we are forced into a situation where we have to listen to our new parents.<br /><br />There names are Mr. and Mrs. Correctional Officer.<br /><br />We have to listen to everything they say. If not, we will be punished. Or they will send us to our uncle's and aunt's house. There names are the white Shirt family. Mr. and Mrs. Captain, or Lieutenant. Last and surely least, we have the grand of daddies. The Warden, he doesn't do anything but hand out orders. To be honest I dislike this family. But the truth is, without them as a whole. Everyone, I wouldn't have seen my worth. Because of my brother's(some of them)and there unwillingness to change. It gives me all the more hope to change. Because I refuse to remain the same. Because of the Go's/White Shirt's and the Warden. I strive even harder, they propel me to become a better man. Because honestly they don't give a care if I do or not.<br /><br />Like I said this whole family is dysfunctional. Everybody has there issues, but your best bet is to work on them while you can. Because there is so much hatred in this family, they will kick you out of the house(prison)<br />with nothing, no tool's to utilize on the street's. So use this opportunity to get better. Then you will get<br />out and be with the ones who really loves you.. If not......Just as I am, you will be a part of this<br /><br />family until to die. Unless by the power of God something changes....... THINK ABOUT IT.<br /><br /><br /><strong>CRY</strong><br />Why should I cry didn't nobody hurt me.When my father died.I didn't feel that he deserted me.There is no way I could shed any tears,for seeing my mother being abused and using drugs for many years.Waking up in the middle of the night wishing tne pain would go away.Praying that someone could help us,I begin to feel like a through away.My feelings wasn't hurt,when others treated me like dirt.Wearing my heart on my sleeve leaving it exposed,so it was easy to make me bleed.In agony a child was conceived,but at that moment I only cried to breath.Besides I was always told ,that real men don't suppose to cry. Suck it up,keep going,hold it all inside. This crazy part for me though I was just a kid. Who suffered a great deal of misfortune at the hands of what my parents did.<br /><br />"Shut up boy" for I give you something to cry for.Would be the words I hear after getting beat with extension cords.As welts appeared on my body,I begin to question what to live for.l want to cry out but I'm afraid because I don't want to lose my inner pride.Crying makes me soft,and 1 always want to appear strong.I don't want anyone to know that deep down inside I'm fighting to hold on.I love my daughter so much.That at night I cry myself to sleep.But I will not tell anyone, then you'll think I'm weak.Sentence a teenager to life in prison he won't even feel it. He didn't feel the pain he caused,he just kept on living.<br /><br />Should I cry if a person die I really cared about? For all the tears I held in for years man just let it out! I'm tired of hurting can there just be one day I can go and feel relief? Or will I be forever haunted for the life I lived on the streets,As I touched my face a stream of water begin to run down my cheek. In my mind I've crossed that line hoping no one can see me.When I look back on everything in my life, I started to notice a lie.The lie was this,what I truly missed."Real men are not afraid to cry!"By: Echo Devon.<br /><br /><strong>Product Of Environment</strong><br />An adolescent bombarded by the disposition of his environmental control.A absentee father so in dissipation he spirals out of control. A transference from the umbilical cord.The child consumes in the womb what the mother experience in life.From love, hate, fear, drugs, or abuse of alcohol. To violence, depression, bitterness, or rage the fetus can feel it all.<br /><br />When the child is conceived how precious is he, a new addition, to a broken family. But little do he know, that before he even grow he has been infected with an unstable mentality. So when the time comes for him to transform, that boy into a man. The stifling of his emotions kill any chance that he will have in life to ever advance. Not fully understanding this metamorphosis, he immediately internalize. That which his mother embodied the negative forces, hate, fear and constant lies.<br /><br />The father isn't there to cultivate, or properly inform this man-child. So the things he is now experiencing is self-destruction in<br />form of acting out. Frora unsafe sex, selling drugs, smoking weed drinking and staying out all night. To robbing people, having shoot outs, even organizing neighborhood gang fights. The list can go on, because the true identity of this man child has been stripped away.<br /><br />Self-hatred, low self-esteem, no self-concept or structure to build a foundation. So the school of the streets taught him selfishness, self preservation, get what you can get by all means, even if that meant by annihilation.What a devastation, for a man-child to be lags than what God created. Not because he chose this road, but it is evident that past mistakes made it.<br /><br />No wonder he grows to kill, lie, rob, rape, commit suicide, or end up behind bars. Because there was no way he could escape, it was<br />already injected into his heart. The only way this cycle can be broke is going back to where it was birth. Then replacing the falsehood that was taugnt. With the truth to his already damaged self-worth. Acceptance is essential, but forgiveness is key. To unlocking the mystery, a lost product of society.,...<br />BY: Tyrone Munson<br />B.K.A Echo Devon<br /><br /><strong></strong><br /></div>FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3654339312218274692.post-42636513745084659712010-11-14T16:18:00.000-08:002010-11-18T16:32:34.288-08:00Death by Incarceration and Three More<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">White Walls</span><br />As I stare at these walls,painted in this cell.I can’t help but to realize to them I've failed.They look back at me,as if I am gum on the bottom of there shoe's.With judgmental eye's they say “I’m better than you!" If I pay close attention I sometimes hear them speak,some with a respectful tone. Yet others yell at me.If history tells me anything this is nothing new. Because the white walls that surrounds me,surrounded ray ancestor's too.The only color I really see,is those in the color green just like me.I also see the color blue but they're is a contrast between me and you.<br /><br />Because of my failures I've been sent away to be stock in a prison.At least thirty thousand dollars for my existence is what<br />your bidding.Racism & reality goes hand in hand,am I a racist because I despise the abuse of authority from a white man? Oh you<br />thought these white walls I speak of was literal? When in all actuality this message is not subliminal.I've been taken away from family,and brought to another land.Where white is dominate;from the t.v. shows to the white Co's,the nurses,and psychologist,even<br />those who do parol.<br /><br />Everything I do is considered a gang,if I make one mistake the<br />walls say's "He'll never change."I'm considered to be manipulative<br />because I posses social skills.If I look at these walls for to long<br />they tell me how I should feel.I miss black women with there attitude,and curvaceous temple.The way they love and care for me,these attributes very instrumental.I have now developed a liken for white women.But there is a rule,don't look to hard and don't touch.This rule goes against natural law because I1^ a man who respect and like all women so much.<br /><br />My assertiveness is considered aggressive,if I'm passionate then I<br />must be mad.When they don't understand me they write antisocial, depressed or sad.Everytime I wake up,I'm reminded of my life on pause. All because I'm en-trapped in the midst of these "White Walls"........<br />By Echo Tyrone Devon<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ME (Complex-of-ME</span>)<br />A detriment of my pride has commence to take shape.<br />A deformity in my character perpetuate a masquerade<br />so I'm faking. Trying to be some one I really cant be,<br />an adolescent in adult shoes. Failing to articulate this concept of self-hate so I choose. To be a fool and drop out of school, and conform to society stereo-types.<br /><br />Instead of pursuing an edumication I pick up a dope sack,<br />or check, check mic. There is more to my plight in life,<br />but I assimilate to what's being taught. Because the truth<br />of my identity is like a fiction novel that can ba brought.<br />Who am I?" No the question is who I am not? I am not your<br />average Joe. I have the full capacity to think, speak and live like a palm tree so I grow. I feel, I cry, I laugh, I'm shy. I learn from a lie, I love so I sigh….<br /><br />I empathize with emotional muscles that I have learned to exercise. So this detriment that 1 speak of is no longer an issue, Like one big tissue I have become a gentle man soft to the core. Now when you see me,you don't, see this peter-pan<br />anymore. Although I am still flawed, in my humanistic capabilities. I accept the man I've become , but I embrace this<br />boy inside of me..<br />Echo Devon<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">D.B.I. (DEATH BY INCARCERATION</span>)<br />You have heard the saying, "Life in prison without the possibility of Parole".This is an incorrect way of saying it.No, the proper term to use is "Death in prison without the possibility of reaching your goals.”<br />When you speak of life,I see it a whole lot differently then most.Life consist of hope, freedom, space , joy, fullfillment,and satisfaction.These are the things of life. Life opens up doors, opportunity,you are able to be someone.There is a chance in life,although restricted there is no restrictions.Again opportunity to be whatever you want to be,having that chance.To have an investment in your natural abilities,your God giving talents.<br /><br />When I speak of life what also comes to mind is freedom.In life you have a freedom,freedom to express yourself without any consequence. Freedom is to live how you choose to live.Not a freedom to do whatever you want to do no matter who gets hurt.But a freedom to be in love with someone,to really care if they are hurting.This freedom is not stifled by rules that utterly disregard the human physics.Where the natural senses are controlled by unnatural senseless people. With a new respect you are able to taste what is good.To enjoy the flavors of what life has to offer.<br /><br />To smell,that which smell good to the central of your nerve system.To touch the very essence of what this freedom is all about,Life.Whether it be a plant,a dream,a new born baby,a beautiful women,or whatever it maybe.To hear a song,a word of encouragement.A simple I love you,or what about children playing outside,the sound of her heart beat as you both lay together.Yes this is life,to see those things which at one point you were blinded to.Love,respect family,marriage,to care,to have compassion,and understanding.<br /><br />This is freedom,this is what life is all about,But where I'm at is death.I received death in prison.To live under the dictates of those who doesn't even believe in my life concept.Those whom are so caught up in trying to prove that I am the criminal,that they,themselves have failed to see there own criminal mental and emotional behaviors.Death in prison,there is no enjoyment watching second by second,minute by minute,hour by hour,day by day,week by week,month by month,and year by year going by and you can’t help but think,"I'm" dying.My dreams of ever being what I wanted to be is slowly wasting away.<br /><br />This is a superficial reality,what seems to be never is.You have no more chances,you cant go to the beach,you cant watch movies with your family.You know the little things,there is no dream job here.In all actuality you no longer live.You just merely exists.So there really is no such thing as life in prison.There is however death.Death of your hopes,death of your dreams,even the harsh reality of losing family members.This is not living,although you may have to settle or some how condition your mind for acceptance.This is not living! do not have life in prison,no I have death by incarceration.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">(TREATED)</span><br />You strip me from my freedom,I admit I've did some wrongs.But why are you trying to keep me,away from home for way to long? If I accentuate my culture,you misjudge me for being in a gang! But you are a part of a "union" an "institution" that's all the same.I maintain a positive mind frame,but in your brain I'm still the same.Just because you are stagnated in your growth,doesn't mean that I cant change.<br /><br />How dare you define your morality,by the position you hold over me. Looking down at me with a frown,but seriously you're worse than me.I've committed crimes to get me here,but now I digress from such behaviors.On the other hand,you back hand your children and noisy neighbor’s.On a drunken tantrum,you mentally destroy whomever they want to be.By callin them fat,cunt,ugly,or stupid!You have no right to keep on judging me.<br /><br />After 400 years,we are still in the same boat,no buses are used to transport.Teenager's ranging from 12-thru-18,giving death sentences,in a all white mans court.Sent to prison,the new plantation,to work for meaningless wages.All while keeping us locked down in cell's smaller than little dog cages.The department of corrections,no let me correct you.There is no correction in prison.More like the death of connections or destitute of colored men.How about the destruction of our children.<br /><br />I admit there are men who still belong in prison.Because they fail to realize the prison within them.But there are some whom you locked up as kids,we have long since recompensed for the things that we've did. Society if you hear me,please don't be ignorant to the facts,that concealed behind these prison walls are many people who want to give back...<br />TYRONE DEVON</div>FFUPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02860136791099005665noreply@blogger.com1