I was down in Coleman, 2009
In the Federal Prison, doing time
That’s where I met George, he is a friend of mine.

He instructs a “Creative Writing” class, he asked me to come
He has a heart for others and the wrong that’s being done

He talked about books, the writing, the skills
The laws, the wrongs, the rights
The love of America, but for out freedom, we must fight

Don’t ever let go, no, don’t give up
Life comes around only just this once

Some called him a criminal, an old hoodlum from the past
But I called him the teacher, he ran a straight up class

He has been down almost 30 years
Didn’t talk much about the heartache and pain
But keeps holding on to his dreams
He has written books and blogs and all kinds of things

George is in prison, but prison is not in him

He was the light of hope to a man like me
To let me know that the FBOP take away my dreams
That they are mine to keep, my everything

He reached out with kindness, a helping hand
Well, if that’s what hoodlums are, we need some more like him

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 26th, 2009 at 9:44 pm and is filed under George Martorano. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.