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Source: Adults

Author: jonny graham

Title: Incarcerated in Athens .( 1982 ) .

Six months for destitution and public nuisance ,
and one more for contempt .
Take him away .

Fat arse-fucking Greek bastard .
Parting words to the judge.
I was mildly angry in Athens.
Just another dillitante day .

High walls and handcuffs .
Heavy duty doors .
Farewell to the Communist sympathisers ,
and the midnight Hellenic whores .
This 'aint exactly the Acropolis .
Subjected to a new set of laws .

Strip search , all crevices .
Hosed down
under truncheon guard .
Personal effects confiscation .
Blue shirts with chains dragging hard .
Pain and deliberation .
Marched across a dusty evening yard .

All eyes see the new boy .
Watch and assimilate .
Put in a cell with an African .
Welcome , but not to Hell ,
just another twist of personal fate .

What did you do ?
Nothing !...well...destitution actually .
Oh , and speaking publicly up at the Placa Athena
about Communism .
I must have thought I was the new trotskyite messiah .
Tourists complained .
But it wasn't me .
It was the LSD .
Wierd trip .
You see ?

And you ?
Arms smuggling ...
Machine guns and hand grenades ,
destined for the Lebanon .
Caught at Piraeus port .
No more freedom-fighter ways .
Two down , six to go .
You get used to it .
Eventually .
Lazy in the hole .
Wasting away .
Dog-days .

Small square cell , third level .
Two beds , one light .
One hole in the floor that stinks .
One small window high .
No running water ,
just cockroaches in the corner sink .
And 110 degrees constant ,
too hot to fuckin' sleep .
Too fucked up to think .

No suicide nets , freedom to jump at will .
A regular prison occurance
when resistance reaches nil .
Constant noise of radios and conversations ,
whistles and screams ,
and heated confrontations .
Everyone watches one another .
No real escape
from interminable incarceration .

Everyone is lazy in the heat .
The guards , the cons , the prison cats ,
the strutting jail-bait meat .
Regulations evaporate ,
structured system curls and melts .
And in the quiet siesta of the afternoon
someone hangs himself
with a borrowed warders belt .

The food is rank , the water's warm .
There's nothing to do
round here at all .
The Devil makes work
for idle hands .
Keep your back to the wall
and make a stand .
Locked away and lead astray ,
forgotten in a foreign land .

Days pass , nights pass .
It all blends and becomes the same .
There's no separation .
Like the shit that washes
through the stinking open drains .
Times up Englishman .
See that door ?
Now fuck off !
Don't come back again .

Ha Ha Ha ... that's a laugh !
Freedom yeah ?
I'm still destitute .
Forever captured
in some tourists
holiday photograph .

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

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