Poems by Kayla Becton and Durrell Becton

In This One You Are

In this one you are
the most angry person
I ever met.

You are the most evilest of all.
You are the CEO of hatred.
You rebel on things that have
nothing to do with you.
You swear you are hard
but in reality you are scared.

I laugh cause it’s funny
how people change within
a blink of an eye.

- Kayla Becton


Am I Really Home?

I walk to this door
that seems to be a place I call home
but to me it’s more like a war zone
with me in the heart of the mix.

With drug takers, liquor drinkers
and people that just don’t give a damn.
Is this what I call home?

Can’t be, ‘cause I see myself
better than that, living lavish
in a three-storey town house,
come out greeting my neighbors
with big-money grins.

But instead I’m in a house
with people that once had dreams
but now washed away as times goes on.
Am I really home?

- Kayla Becton



She doesn’t smile now.
He doesn’t laugh like he used to.
Laughter doesn’t break the plane
of what they’ve been through.
Give them one reason to put a smirk on their faces –
Hoodwinked and bamboozled is what they would say.
If Jim Crow must go, then Uncle Tom needs to pack too.
So she looks to the left because the other side doesn’t seem right.
He holds his flag half mast because they don’t see us to be high.
Wake up or stand up, for tomorrow is never today.
You see the pain in their eyes?
The struggle?
The oppression?
Dance! Dance! That’s what they told us to do.
So now they sit in shame watching you:
Sambo.

- Durrell Becton

The Deep Music: Some Poems by Young Writers

I am pleased to present the first of many poems by the young writers involved in The Deep Music: Poems from the Prison Crisis. These poems were written over the last several weeks in our workshop. Most of the poets are 14-15 years old. One is older. More poems to come!


Q: = A:?

Dad, will you be the bright
light to guide my way?

Popz, can I be the inspiration
and motivation in your life?

Dad, can you hold me tight
and don’t let go?

Popz, can we dance all night
and ignore the extra and unnecessary?

Dad, can you please take my hand
and take me with you in your journey to life?

Father, can you please answer my 5 questions
and fulfill all thousand of my dreams?

by Jackie Castillo


Born and Raised in NE DC

At age one I lost my father to the law,
but never lost my father to my heart.
Yep, growing up was tough
for a young girl with no dad at home.
To tell her right from wrong,
to play and laugh whenever.
But that never stopped me.
Everything I would go through
from now on until I died
was just life for you.
It wasn’t always perfect.
And neither is being a princess
of your own castle.

by DeShayla Breonne Sherod


My Hidden Neighborhood

All people think where I live
is a dangerous place.
Since I live in Kenilworth
all they ever think is
drugs, money, police, and gangs.

I know the real beauty of it –
you get to play outside
and have fun with it.
You don’t have to worry
about who’s going to get shot next
or who’s going to be the next person locked up.

Yeah, I live in the ghetto –
you have to start somewhere.
I wouldn’t want to live nowhere else.
I would like for the crime to stop.
But this is my home.
People can say and do what they want
but this is my hidden neighborhood.

by Ivory Garner

Announcing The Deep Music: A Collaboration Between Poet Sarah Browning and Children of Incarcerated Fathers

A Little Girl Needs Daddy

A little girl needs Daddy
For many, many things:
Like holding her high off the ground
Where the sunlight sings!
Like being the deep music
That tells her all is right
When she awakens frantic with
The terrors of the night.

Like being the great mountain
That rises in her heart
And shows her how she might get home
When all else falls apart.

Like giving her the love
That is her sea and air,
So diving deep or soaring high
She’ll always find him there.
And that is why I wrote this poem
because “A Little Girl Needs Daddy” near.


by Deshayla Sherod, Hope House poet


I am excited to announce the launch of The Deep Music, a project of poetry and discussion about the prison crisis in the District of Columbia and the country as a whole. This project is made possible in part with a grant from the Creative Communities Initiative of the Community Foundation of the National Capital Region.

The United States has the world’s highest incarceration rate, imprisoning over two million of its citizens. Washington, DC’s incarceration rate is four times the national average. These two million men and women are largely invisible: we do not know their stories, we have not heard their voices. The impact of incarceration on families is another untold story. As a society, how can we evaluate the effectiveness of a policy, if we do not know its impact?

Poetry has the power to humanize social policy, to give voice to those made voiceless by our society’s decision to lock up so many of its citizens. The Deep Music will tell these human stories, through poems written by incarcerated men, their children, and myself.

In May and June of this year I am meeting for four Saturday mornings with young people involved with Hope House DC, a remarkable organization that serves incarcerated DC fathers and their families. Together we are writing poetry.

Here's some information about Hope House's important work:

"With a few notable exceptions there are not many programs that are focused specifically on improving and sustaining the fragile relationships between incarcerated fathers and their children. Through innovative projects, Hope House is providing exciting new leadership in this area. We continue to believe that just because a father is in prison, doesn't mean he has to stop being a Dad—and the children do not stop needing a Dad."

Please go to their website to read more: http://hopehousedc.org/

The Institute for Policy Studies is also a collaborator with us on the project, providing a place to meet and working space for me. They'll be hosting our public reading and exhibiting the young people's poetry. The oldest multi-issue progressive think tank in the country, IPS turns Ideas into Action for Peace, Justice and the Environment. I am very grateful for their support.

In the poetry workshop the young writers write about everything young people are concerned with: their neighborhoods, their families, boyfriends and girlfriends, dreams, the future. Growing up in low-income communities, they also write about gangs and shootings and fear. In the coming weeks we'll be posting some of their poems and I'll be posting drafts of my own new work. You'll be invited to comment -- and to support the project by spreading the word and contributing financially. Thank you for visiting.



- Sarah Browning





[Artwork by Eric Drooker: http://www.drooker.com/]