JOAN OF ARC / JOAN OF MY ART

Matron Saint of those in oppression.

Defender of free expression.

Inspiration of many, in your armor.

Help me to be your equal in ardor.

Avenger of repression.

Angelic vision of my confession.

Standing strong for the fate of your Nation.

Help me to be a worthy imitation.

Poetic barbs, slings and arrows.

Hurled with accuracy at prison bureaus.

Parole Boards with dwindling numbers of eligible.

Keep them locked in so your employment is credible.

Can I be as brave as the Maid of Orleans?

Knowing reprisals are a part of their schemes.

How much am I willing to endure?

How far will I go to ensure?

Incarcerated people's voices won't demure.

Our words remain unfiltered and pure.

Would you stand against Stalin, Knowing the people he was killing?

At what cost would you be opposing, would you express your true feelings?

If you could halt Hitler's pogroms with poetic protest?

Would you speak out knowing that you could be next?

From the safety of anonymity you might shout.

Now they stand before you, will you still speak out?

I'm a bad man, it's right for me to be in here.

But good people are being mistreated, and that is clear.

I'm ashamed because I'm guilty and I'm doing time.

If I'm punished for doing right, that'll be just fine.

Murdered for the truth might help my case.

You see I squandered God's amazing grace.

Joan de' Arc, Joan of Art , muse of my soul.

Help me use this opportunity to accomplish the goal.

God grant me the bravery of that young Lady.

When my time comes, that I won't say maybe.

For incarcerated men and women in Florida prisons.

Let the truth come forth like prophetic visions.

Treated according to demented whims.

It only matters when it's you, who cares when it's them.

Sentenced to time in prison, removed from our homes, families and friends.

Nowhere are we sentenced to your punishment, your own private ends.

The Judge said I have to stay behind these walls.

He never said you should abuse us all.

Some guards treat people like people.

Bad guards treat every prisoner as evil.

We follow orders, we are careful how we move.

That's not enough for guards with something to prove.

Arbitrary application of asinine orders.

Spill over from your bipolar borders.

Mean is the only word that fits.

Your treatment of obedient people defies wits.

I would like to believe, Joan would have led the fight.

Even if knowing, burned at the stake was her plight.

The woman beneath that armor afraid.

Yet knowing what's right, the reason she stayed.

I don't know how this will end for me.

I'll be judged by Joan, Jesus, and History.

But I won't give in, I consider it fate.

Even if it means being burned by the State.