Prison Radio
Steven Nicholson

This poem is by Steven Lynn Nicholson. I’m at Cotton Correctional Facility in Jackson, Michigan. This poem is called “Son.”

If you were my son, should I embrace you and not run?
I think I should, but then I would have to put down my gun and government funds
my 15th-floor apartment leans and, still, I don’t leave, but I do have to eat
so four days of stink is so hard to clean, especially when I sit and wait for the phone to ring
sad and mean, yeah, that’s been me
depression and aggression caused me to leave
left my son, stuck under the gun, encaged in the Sun, the yard is no fun
yet says he’s free ’cause he’s found the Son
I once knew that Son but life’s lack of fun and my lack of want to sacrifice had me giving up
my baby son, I lost him once
little Lukie gone, my baby son, my firstborn son, I lost him once
now he’s back, now I’m back
though pain in my back attacks and lack of dopamine keeps me sad
and I can’t wait for that phone to ring to hear that theme: “This is a prepaid call”
“It’s from Steve.” “Dad, it’s Steven. And remember we win”
we win when we commence to fighting
fighting the blanket oppression of prison
or the locked-in or within our withering souls
just know I am your son and I have not clawed
and begged back into your life just for fun
I strive with selfless pride, proud of you, despite you, to simply make sure you were still alive
and I cannot die or let you die without hoping you realize my love for you is not a selfish lie
the Bible does not lie when it cries for us to honor father and mother if
if, there is no if, we honor mother and father as sons and daughters
despite how they may have falter or left us at an alter for slaughter
dad, my dad time, I am your son, and it’s been fun
fun to show love and you remember the times, even if tough

Snapping fingers, that applies now.

Second poem is called “Amber Waves,” from “amber waves of grain,” you know? That song? But – “Amber Waves.”

Amber waves ingrained in the brains of lames that were created to be great
but trained to flare like solar rays in space and hate differing types of their own race
we’re spaced out by ethnic pace and differences are great but we are all one race
we all trace to one case of DNA
and not a strain that’s simply terrestrial, it’s more than celestial
its pedestal is greater than extraterrestrial
but there’s a prerequisite for entering this vestibule that Heaven sent to you
a power greater than atomic necessitates something you must do
but the king who made the universe for you made this an easy job for you
simple as one, two, see, just believe and receive Jesus
see, and the stars will steep, angels will leap
recognition of hidden intuition will begin to teach you how to meet the supreme being
walk hand in hand in the sand, one set of footprints on the beach
walk hand in hand in the sand, not letting our distant sand be washed away on the beach
by the tide whose power resides in the depths of Earth’s fire
a magnetic core with power to control the shores
power to bore deep in our souls and rewards us for responsible chores
being stewards, of course, was God’s original course for us
as He allowed Adam to name all the animals, even the horse, of course
but we got off course, we are off course
treating neighbors like tourists, and I am a Taurus
but how can that help me see the trees through the forest?
a tumultuous chorus wards us off of maintaining the forest
and Satan rewards us for making wars of our onus
but we must dig deep and plant seeds, taking care of the responsibility put upon us
a porous submarine cannot infiltrate the enemy without water pushing pressure upon us
become conscientious to all beauty within us, unlocking access to promises in the recess
but given to us within this spinal tap provision
unlock your brainstem and let Him in to change your vision
to no division, amber waves swishing, wishing, wishing
only the farmers are missing

Alright, that’s it, guys. Thank you.

These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio.