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TABLE OF CONTENTS:
1. NOT ALL THERE (INSIDE COVER) 2. INTRODUCTION TO PART ONE 3. NOTE FROM MY COMRADE MARCUS 4. E.S.P. THE BASIC RUNDOWN 5. SOLITARY ENSLAVEMENT 6. APPLY YOURSELF 7. MADNESS 8. THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS 9. THE CA...
"Greetings from the Graveyard" is a 3-part zine I want to use as a tool to raise awareness about the oppressive struggles that prisoners here in Nevada's maximum security prison (Ely State Prison) have to endure. Hopefully in so doing, it will...
To become aware of these atrocities, one must first become introduced to the 3 W's: World, War, and Warehouses. Once one becomes familiarized with these three, you'll then find that we are all prisoners with like struggles. Therefore, we are all subjected to the same institution and its forced mentalities of insane thinking. The relevance of this institution is it needs for us to become reliant upon its mechanisms. Like a clock ticking away and we're the sprockets turning its gears. It needs us to keep in tune to its tock. For without us, it cannot function. The clock takes extreme measures against all resistance.
These prison warehouses, for some, is the beginning of its extreme measures; and for others, it is the end. Those on the outs are subjected to wars and fighting for the continuous reign of capitalism. And some are just plainly confined to the world and its oppression, living as puppets till death, finding that in the end, it costs way too much to die. Lives pay dearly for war bullets, while the institution hails on and on. The warehouses destroy human nature with no compassion towards our wellbeing. And the institution hails on and on, biting its own tail for nourishment. And we come straight from its ass as its substance.
They say you learn something new everyday, but do you really? I see people losing their minds everyday and sometimes it seems like the people who keep us here want our minds to stay stagnant while we are in here, but it’s really not up to them, it’s up…
As I sit here in this cell or whatever it is, I find myself wishing that they would come and get me and take me to prison. I say that, because all of this weirdness around here and all of the foulness I see, I don't know where I'm at anymore.
Lately, I haven't been talking on the tier anymore. I know that there are at least 20 protective custody inmates locked down on this tier right now, sitting in the hole with me. What I don't know is how many of them are informing for the pigs or how many of them are sitting back and listening to everything we say. So, lately, I've chosen to stay quiet and alone. It would be nice if there were a couple conscious prisoners close to me, there would be plenty to discuss. But, they've got me stranded and strained up right now and I don't have nothing to prove, therefore, I have nothing to say.
The prisoners are so friendly with the police around here, it scares me.
The foulness disgusts me, disturbs me, makes me sick. I hate this place. this place used to be my stomping grounds. I've sent many pigs away, either bleeding or covered with feces, and yes, they had it coming! I've done deeds that could be bragged about for years in this setting, this place. But I know if I had a reason to lash out and do something to these pigs right now, the prisoners around here would look at me like I'm crazy. they wouldn't understand the concept of standing up to the man, no, not on this tier.
I sit up in this cell and I read, I study, I write, I keep myself busy and I apply my knowledge as often as I can. fuck this place, these people, fuck what they think, fuck what they do, I gotta shake it off and continue to be who I am. I can't explaln how much this place fills me with disgust. It has become sickening to be here. I need to get out of here, I need to cleanse my soul, or get high, or something, cuz it is becoming very very difficult to deal with this madness.
If there's someone out there who's reading this, someone who cares, pick up a pen and write to one of the prisoners who has placed an article in this zine.Show us some love, give us some encouragement, send us some books, help us rise above this madness. We need your support. we need to have real contact, communication, and truthful relationships-meaningful connections with people on the outside. We've been cut of from love, society, life, community, family, and friends, and been confined to a corner of coldness and darkness. We need your support. We need your compassion.
From the depths of these dregs, Coyote
Ely state prison, Nevada 2008
If you would like to write me, I can be contacted at this address:
Your heart turns into stone, your soul turns into ice, and your mind turns into jelly. That's what happens when you sit and sit and sit in one of these cells, that's what happens when love leaves you, its what happens when you stop trying. It’s a constant cycle of torture. Lt’s a constant battle, a never-ending struggle. One day you feel good, the next day you feel bad. You go through so much conflict and turmoil with yourself, it nearly kills you. You can feel a deep sense of mental anguish and a deep sense of spiritual torment. It hurts so bad, it tears you up into little pieces, it scars you, and it destroys you inside.
You're filled with hate, rage, and vengeance.
You want to kick the pig’s head in, the same way they kick on your door. You become suspicious of others, and paranoid. You begin to think they're talking about you, you think they're out to get you, out to rob, steal, or cheat you. You're losing your fucken mind.
That's what happens when you sit and fester and marinate in one of these cells for hours at a time, days at a time, months at a time, years at a time. That's what happens when your heart stops finding a real reason to beat, that's what happens when you quit resisting. Your heart breaks a thousand times, you lose your cool. You lose your mind, your soul freezes and you die inside, you fucken die.
My name is Coyote and my heart still beats with love and resistance. But there's been times when it would skip a beat or two, or three ...
The caseworkers here at Ely State Prison have become so good at lying that it scares me. They're always out to give us the classic run around, just to see us running in circles like dogs chasing their tails. I've trained myself not to believe anything they say and never get my hopes up. I am able to live with the understanding that there isn't very much I have coming from them. I know these people don't care about me, they don't care about my problems in life or what the hell I'm going through. They're not going to help me, they're not here for that. These lying caseworkers are so full of shit, they can keep on walking past my cell to the next one. I'm cool right here. Fuck 'em.
Those who live in fear of authority, live in slavery. Mental slavery, psychological slavery, and even physical slavery. Those who live in fear of authority are in a prison all of their own. A prison of their own making.
I am a prisoner to concrete and steel, but I am not imprisoned by fear. I do not conduct myself with those who are in fear of authority. We who live in prison are sure to not allow the walls to chip away at our existence; but with our spirit and attitude of resistance we chip away the walls and barriers that presume to behold us.
The thoughts that seep to the strengthened center of our well-being were created from the sheer will to survive under drastic circumstances. We are refined by hardships when befriended by darkness and we come out strengthened in the center and sharp around the edges, ready to cut through our bonds with a diligent ease.
It is will power that guides us through these sloppy situations. It is the spirit of resistance that keeps us alive and well. We are not imprisoned by our fears, we are determined to perservere.
At the time of this writing, I've been here at Ely State prison for a solid 10 years. I've been through all the motions, all the ups and downs, all the trials and tribulations. I've been in fights, I've sent officers to the hospital, I've been sent to the hole for alleged stabbings, I've fought with the goon squad on cell extractions, I've participated in riots and I've demonstrated all kinds of acts of real resistance. I've been shot, gassed, tazered--you name it, I've been through it all.
Wherever I go in this prison, I am locked down. There's only one unit in this prison that isn't locked down and the caseworkers and wardens say that I am not eligible for that unit because of my history of institutional violence. All of my visits have been behind glass for almost 9 years now. They won't let me have contact visits with my family or friends because of my history of institutional violence.
So I am stuck, whether I am in the hole, or in "General populockdown", it doesn't matter, they will not give me any type of breathing room.
So, other than the fact that I will one day be released from prison, I have no incentive to do good, or follow their petty rules. I have no hope, nothing to look forward to. I’ll be here in Ely State prison until I go home, stuck in a cell, on 23 hour lock down, trying to maintain and keep from losing my cool. It's hard, sometimes it's a real struggle when you're confined to these cells for long periods of time, your thinking gets a bit distorted and it can take one little thing to set you off. when rage and aggression set in, you go flying off the handle before even thinking twice about it. It’s a psychological struggle and we are up against great odds.
This place has the ability and the tendency to do great amounts of damage to our psyche and our minds. We are living in a real-live man-made hell.
We need people on the outs to show their concern and get involved in our lives and struggles. We need people to send us letters and books and give us hope and something to look forward to. We need people on the outs to accept our calls and give us good, healthy, productive conversations to get our minds off of this sick, demented place for a little while. We need people to care about us and about what we're going through in here. We need support from people on the outside.
The psychological torment that takes place in this prison can be unbearable at times. If our souls are out of tune and our minds aren't strong and if our hearts are in the wrong place, then we are lost to this cold, desolate darkness. It takes a lot of strength and a good amount of resistance to get through this.
Listen up! There's nothing cool about this place, there's nothing cool about being here. This place sucks.
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