Told From Here

(An Exclusive Preview)

                                                                                      Pops

629.

630.

631.

Breathing.  It's the only way I know I still exist, that I'm still alive, that I still matter, to someone, somewhere.  Just not here. Amidst these catacombs of mortar, metal, and men.  Mortar being a mixture of lime, sand, and water, holding together this enclosure of bricks I’m confined within.  And metal, what everything else is made of.  Things like doors, sinks, toilets, mirror and a desk with an attached stool.

655.

All metal.

656.

But then, now that I think about it, probably should specify that three of those named are either aluminium or another alloy.  For instance, keys and shackles, they're steel.  The reason I say they are is because they're cold, hard, heavy, like a .38 calibre Smith & Wesson I once own.  Damn it was beautiful.  I called him Bang.

664.

Why Bang?

665.

Because of the sound it made when I fired it.  Gendered it male on account of how powerful it was.  Had it been a duece-duece revolver, a Dillinger, or anything else similar, without a doubt I would've referred to it as a she.  Hard to imagine how something so small, though just as deadly, could be anything other than feminine. I mean, if you really give thought to it, guns like a .22 or Dillinger are sneaky as hell.  Unpredictable even.  And like a female, if they hit you in the right spot…

687.

They will fuck you up all the same.

689.

690.

Not deflecting the blame, but had it not been for Bang, I wouldn't be here.  From the very first moment I held him in the palm of my hand, I instantly personified invincibility, destruction.  Felt as if I could go anywhere, say anything, do whatever the hell I wanted whenever I wanted.

702.

703.

Together Bang and I was one bad ass—

Hold on.

704.

Almost done.

705.

Maybe when I finish doing these jumping jacks.

706.

You'll be able to understand me better.

707.

708.

709.

709...

That's it.  I'm out of breath.  Couldn't do another if my life depended on it.

Boom, boom, boom, boom!

Goddamn it's hot in here.  Motherfuckin' place wasn't built for exercising, was it?

Huh?  Excuse me?  Why am I locked away in here?

Oooooh, if only you could see me smile.

Do you really, really presume you're ready to go there with me? The implication of your question suggest you've—quote unquote—"figured out" where the here, I am in, is.  Which of and in itself is a bit of a conundrum since I, Don Poplar Moore, a.k.a. Pops, and others, have been banished into this man-made purgatory simply because we, my brothers and I, do not acknowledge the existence of this place with a name more descriptive than...Here.

As I said, right now, I exist in this parallel microcosm. A world from whence I elate in knowing that somewhere I thrive in the hearts and minds of my yester-years’ loved ones.  People I have refused to forget as it is they for whom in the present I exist at all.  My mother.  Father.  Siblings?  I am an only child.  The faces of my parents I will always remember.  Their names?  What does it matter?  They are but nil in this place of mortar, metal, and men.

Shhhhhh.  Quiet.  Listen.  They’re all around us.  Who?  The Sovereign Assembly.  Though it’s been a long while since I've seen any of them, I'm ever so conscious they too are here with me.  Arkansas.  Eastside.  Ypsi.  Check Cash.  My brothers blood-bonded within the movement, fighting for what we believe and shall not tolerate.  Be it oppression, cruelty, intimidation, fear, from pawns we raised from the battlefield as kings.  “Logically?” I recall Arkansas once reciting a fitting analogy.  “The move is unattainable to most of the world's elite chess masters.  Therefore, one must learn to think outside the rules in order to truly grasp how a pawn too can become a king.”  Though well-stated, the first time you hear it, it doesn't make much sense, does it?  A pawn becoming a king defies chess fundamentals, for even the novice of the game knows the king is the one rank a pawn can never obtain.  Preconceived teachings and common sense emphatically stipulate it to be impossible.  But what if, and I do stress, what if?  What if the limitations of a simple game, such as that of chess, are no more definitive than that of a man's common sense?  And what if the single cornerstone of any realm of cognition is there are no rules?  What then must be concluded?  But, before you answer, hold that thought.  As I feel there's two aforementions I must clarify.

The first: Physically?  My here is administration segregation, the Hole.  Sometimes referred to as the Belly of the Beast.  And, for the sake of an argument, I concur this place, this Here I am in, to be located in the city Jackson within the territory under siege by the corporation known as the State of Michigan.  Its name?  Robert G. Cotton Correctional Facility.

Number two: Politically?  My brothers and I have renounced citizenship and reclaimed our rightful status as sovereigns, and no, we are not an anti-government faction.  However, we most certainly are pro-absolute freedom and individual awareness.  So before our little talk dissipates into an abrupt and complete silence, please permit me to elaborate further.  Digressing of course if I may?

Comparable to the concept of pawns advancing to become kings, we sovereigns recognize no fictitious creation of man, of law, or any defacto authority as being superior to man himself.  We have therefore united to form a group that is of like minds and extremely competent in the ways and precepts of those who schemed to enslave us. Its name is The Sovereign Assembly.  Through it we have also proclaimed and redeemed unto ourselves certain inalienable rights.  In general, we profess it was without our knowledge and tacit agreement that men, equal to us in every way, sold us into their systems of involuntary servitude, made us subject to their presidents, governors, judges and war mongers.  Indoctrination.  A fourteen letter word meaning we have been bred and taught to be anything other than that which we are.  And by virtue of the common sense afforded us by The Creator Himself, it is from within these walls The Sovereign Assembly seeks redress and abolishment of the steel chains and psychological bonds imprisoning us without impunity.

Boom, boom, boom, boom!

Well, there's Eastside letting me know it's my turn again.  Damn, he must be moving fast as hell, feels like I didn't even have a break. Good thing we only have one more set to do, otherwise, this old White boy might’ve been forced to tap out and call it quits.

Oh, and by the way.  This time I'll be doing push-ups so forgive me for not speaking while I focus on the task at hand.  With that being said...I’m off.

One.

Two.

Hm.

Four.

Five…

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                       Karlos