JailBreak {A Poetic Short Story}

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just different

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Late Friday Night

Marcus Donald ran afoul the law for all his life,

his nerves were twerkin' endlessly on who to call tonight,

an Essex County holding cell is where he sat to think,

on what Big Rolly might just do to him; so sad to think.

The heist had gone off perfectly; so simple in its calm,

too bad that he'd been sloppy with it; tripping the alarm,

it'd gone off oh so silently but something had to cease,

as in success when Marcus got hemmed up by mad police.

The C.O. rapped the cell bars breaking up his train of thought,

the deep voice called out "Donald! Time to go and make your call."

While walking with the guard's when Marcus came up with a plan,

there'd be no more deceit, this time he'd face it like a man,

in doing so he figured he'd be thought as outta sight,

by one man with the juice to save him; yes Big Rolly Wright,

who had a team of B & Eers runnin' in The Bricks,

you leave to go to work these cats are runnin' in the crib,

and even if you're there these dudes'll straight up hit the door,

while brandishing some weapons that'll make you hit the floor,

they'll get your and then for kicks take turns and hit cha wh0re,

but mostly they were business; bottom line was get the score.

"Speak to me...." The male voice said displaying major 'tude,

"Ay Rolly yo it's Marcus and it aint that major dude.

They got me down in county; Monday morn I'm slidin' out,

no need for you to worry bruh; this here? I'll ride it out."

Rolly Wright then chuckled as if overly amused,

he then replied with earnest "Come on Marc you know me dude.

Just keep ya mouth sealed tight you'll see the cops aint gittin ,

just holla at me Monday when you fine'lly hit the bricks."

Marcus was relieved to say the least but it's a trip,

'cause Rolly had a rep of knowing how to fix a snitch,

so back inside the cell's when Marcus knew it'd be alright,

he'd do what Rolly said and keep his two lips closed alright.

Early Monday Morning

"Marcus Donald; Docket number five eight seven one!"

The baliff yelled out in the courtroom; "Fine'lly let's be done",

is what Marc thought out loudly standing stiff before the judge,

who looked up from the documents at him like "You're a punk!

The kind of criminal who sucks the life from decent folk,

by breaking into houses and I see your recent work,

why just three months ago you stood before Judge Louis Keen,

and gave some song and dance 'bout how to judge a human being.

So here you are again and for the same offense no doubt,

you stand there prob'lly thinking that for sure you're getting out,

you won't be Mr. Donald and today it ends as I,

remand you to West Cochran 'cause I sentence you to life!"

As the gavel hammered Marcus felt as though he might,

just cry since he'd be locked down for the rest of his whole life,

the thing that shook him up was how the hell would Rolly feel,

to hear this kind of sentence he'd think Marc'll prob'lly squeal.

The baliff closed the cuffs real tight around the slender wrists,

of Marcus who was lost among his thoughts; all in the mist,

and as he left the courtroom he walked tall with head held high,

reality then hit him and he bawled a bit then cried.

Early Wednesday Morning

The J-Tier of the new West Cochran Penitentiary,

is right where Marcus knew he'd live on as a memory,

to those outside still with a life he may as well be dead,

at twenty-six with all these long years hangin' on his head.

His cellmate was another cat locked down from Rolly's crew,

a young boy by the name of Percy that he prob'lly knew,

from one joint caper or another pulled at Rol's behest,

they sat and chopped it up oblivious to all the rest.

Percy told Marc "Word is that you're ripe to be a snitch,

to get some years shaved off you're gonna rat out like a b!tch."

Marcus shook his head "Whoever put that out's a lie,

for real; before I'm reckless talkin' from my mouth I'll die."

"I feel you soulja," Percy shot back. "but the word's from high,

it's Rolly sayin' if you speak a mumblin' word you die,

and not just you your peoples; all of y'all are gettin' gone,

it's set for Friday morning; Rolly's gonna hit cha moms."

Marcus sat there shocked that Rolly planned to go that far,

he felt it wasn't necess'ry for Rol to go that hard,

"I know you got some cash stacked somewhere," Percy cleared his mouth,

as Marcus peeped him sideways Percy then pled "Hear me out,

I'm out this b!tch tomorrow morning; time served and accrued,

I got a plan to get you out; you just need nerves to do,

a small bit of unpleasantness as well as staying calm,

along with twenty large I guarantee you'll save your moms."

To Marcus twenty thou was change in spite of how it came,

it's thoughts like this that sometimes wrinkled up his brow with shame,

but now was not the time for his morality to show,

he threw a short nod Percy's way more casually to go.

"Aiight Soulja; so you know I work the prison morgue,

and gettin' items out these iron walls aint really hard,

tomorrow there's a body bein' buried in a grave,

you'll stowaway inside the casket and you'll get away.

Since I'm getting out tomorrow here's whas really up,

my peeps and I will come through in the night and dig you up,

go get Mom Dukes or better yet squat out and keep her safe,

the jakes'll know you're out and gon be tryna peep ya face."

Marcus shook his head and then his laughter filled the room,

just thinking that his six foot frame was gonna fill a tomb,

my bad; lay in a coffin to get buried in a grave,

the two men dapped it up 'cause Moms was surely gettin' saved.

Thursday Afternoon

Marcus felt the coffin start to lower in the ground,

the diff'rent voices' volumes started lowering in sound,

the preacher man had said a touching solstace for the dead,

the words of which leaked out as if a hole was in his head.

Percy'd gave a flashlight and some snacks for him to eat,

the light which fell in transit now was down trapped at his feet,

he'd thought it best to leave it and the choice was lost in prose,

it'd suck to go make noises in a coffin that was closed.

Marc then heard what had to be the soil drizz'ling down,

upon the casket top which echoed eerie in its sound,

and now to play the waiting game amongst the sticks and rocks,

it now was two and Percy wouldn't arrive 'til six o'clock.

Thursday Evening - 7:19P.M.

Marcus wouldn't let his nerves disrupt the calm resolve,

since Perce was a running late he'd start to feel his calm dissolve,

the snacks were gone but hunger was the least of his concerns,

he thought that maybe Percy'd left him in this beast to burn.

But that made little sense 'cause Percy hadn't yet been paid,

and twenty Gs was much too much to go forget this grave,

so Marcus took short breaths attempting to conserve the air,

'cause Percy would start digging any sec; dispurse this lair.

Thursday Night - 11:16P.M.

Tiny shards of panic had now turned to outright dread,

as Marcus banged his fist against the wood up by his head,

his watch gave little comfort as the minutes crawled on by,

it's better still to say that time completely stalled tonight.

His foot then jerked to hit the flashlight; how could he forget?

He worked it past the corpse until he gingerly caressed,

the oblong tube of plastic; now he had to figure out,

just what he had to do 'cause somehow he was getting out.

He turned the flashlight on and shined the beam around the top,

left corner of the coffin just to see it now was locked,

his right hand brushed the bare skin of the body on his right,

then realized with a sigh that he'd be prob"lly gone tonight.

Marcus knew he tried the best he could and asking why,

because of his bad choices did his mother have to die,

the light moved inadvertently to further hurt his case,

it shined upon the corpse in which he saw had Percy's face.

"WHAT THE F*#K?!" He hollered down inside the grave and proved,

the corpse was really Percy looking at his gang tatoos,

his mind then snapped like breadsticks staring at the low white rod,

that flickered from the flashlight and repeating "Oh my God...."

©2014

The Cunning Linguist