The Genesis of Penitentiary Poem

When hearing my signature poem, Penitentiary, most people come to the conclusion that it was written during a time of my incarceration. But not is the case. Initially, the poem was titled, I Am Alcohol. A friend and member of an AA group and the editor of its monthly newsletter asked if I would submit a poem about alcohol. I did. And the poem was a hit with the readers; a few of them shared their comments on the editorial page. An inmate with a subscription to the newsletter ask if it was possible for me to write a poem with the twist on a Penitentiary or prison setting. I complied, and it was well received. On the written page, the poem did not measure up to academic standards, but presented vocally, its power was overwhelming. Or course, with my training in elocution and other literary techniques, Penitentiary was often requested when I attended poetry venues in the mid-sixties. Over the years, to this day, I found different ways to deliver the poem in order to keep its freshness and ensure its universality. Too, it has been recorded several times by different media artists. I have used props such as chairs being kicked over, tables being pounded and rocks broken with sledge hammers. The most memorable recitations, to my regret, was not captured on video or camera as I collared a heckler and took him to the floor as I screamed, I'm in command, and the other time, when in a circle of the round at Al's bar, eyeballed one of the listener and said, Push me Punk and be DOOMED!. The guy took it as a personal affront and said he wanted to punch me out. But I was ready for the confrontation.

Public Transportation

I live in Los Angeles, California where public transportation can be hell: overcrowded buses, dirty floors, especially when someone has spilled sodas, beer or some other liquid that sticks on the soles of ones shoes; smudged windows, inconsiderate drivers and passengers; the smell of baby poop. Some passengers talk on cell phones as if other passengers want to hear what they saying.

But there are times public transportation can be a pleasant experience, especially when the run is hourly through or pass up scaled residential areas such as Malibu, Beverly Hills, Century City or the Pacific Palisades. Of course, there are other pleasant areas outside of the ones I've mentioned. Since I rely on public transportation six to eight times a day, I've become an expert on which are the best and worst buses to take, the kind of passengers I'm likely to encounter, and the best time of day to ride. Sometimes I'm not as mindful of the bus I decide to ride. I'm out to go nowhere in particular.

And without a degree of apprehension I'll board buses I normally would not chance under any circumstances. I watch every passengers who boards: individuals, couples; the aware and clueless, the good, the bad, the ugly, the clean and the unclean, and the few extraterrestrials. But, of course, I jest. I ride to observe - not judge, knowing that even I'm being watched and recorded. I follow the rules posted at the front and sides of the bus: No Smoking, eating and drinking, radio silent, please exit at rear door, priority seating for seniors and disabled, pull cord for next stop. Regardless, people drink and eat, play radios at a disturbing volume And the odor of pizza and other foods, sweat, urine, soiled clothes, bodies overly perfumed, and inundates the unventilated bus. Priority seating for seniors and disabled are occupied by under-age children whose fare's not required and young adults who care less for the elderly person with cane or walker.

People cough without covering mouth, spit on the floor. Some passengers hold a hand over mouth and nose. Sometimes a passenger moves to open several windows. I observe. Seemingly, the front of the bus is packed with people who's clueless that the back is full of room. I wonder who these people are, where are they from? Thank, God, not where I'm from! Sometimes a driver will say, "Please, move to the back of the bus so others can board." Most are unresponsive. They can not hear or refuse to because of earphones plugged in ears, listening to music or busy blabbing on cell phones.

I do my best to negotiate pass backpacks, luggage and feet blocking the narrow aisle so as not to offend someone I should be offended by. I notice four, five, six people pulling the cord for the next stop, unaware that the cord has been pulled. Again, I wonder, who are these people? Can they see? Can they read? Can they hear? The bus comes to the stop and a few people exit from the back door as others shove through a throng of people trying to board. Thank God, they're not in cars on the highway or freeway or overland streets. What would happen with such unawareness.

I'm going somewhere, nowhere in particular, just riding, destination unknown, observing the behavior of passengers. I take note of drivers, his or her demeanor, one who's heavy on the horn, brakes, courteous, etc,. When on the bus, if possible, I take a seat by the window, two rows back from the priority seating in order to see if a wheelchair wants to board. I see the women with her seeing-eye dog. She boards. Wow! The driver has to demand two reluctant and indignant-looking passengers to give up their seats.

Boarding a bus is another problem at some bus stops: a person stands, keeping others from boarding, blocking door, while asking the driver questions or getting to the cash box and fumbling for change or a bus pass in a stuffed purse or some unknown pocket. And there are the attempted fare invaders who boards, ignoring the driver or depositing a few pennies in the fare box and proceed to seat themselves. Some drivers ignore the escapade while on occasion others will not move the bus, threaten to call the police, as some passengers scream at the culprit(s) to pay or get off. Sometimes a passenger will volunteer the fare in order to diffuse the stand-off. But, here is a lesson learned: this guy boards a bus, asking passengers for fare so he can go see his mother in the hospital. A sympathetic passenger gives it to him, but instead of depositing it in the fare box, he darts off the bus. Overall, I like public transportation because it's a nice way to joyride.

To be continued in my upcoming book. Within every story is another story!!!