By Kenny Bianco
Dark and evil, Bitter and cold, a place where demons dwell
Tortured souls are degraded inside this man made hell
Human beings are treated like the lowest forms of life;
New York’s Boldest who are New York’s Coldest deliver more pain and strife.
One can automatically lose his dignity and end up drowning in all the mental abuse.
The officers in charge take pride in their griminess as they urinate in your juice.
The ones in authority presume to be part of the solution but are really part of the problem
They bring in the drugs, tobacco, and illegal contraband but no one ever involves them.
The majority of them get away with murder and it’s always the inmates’ fault,
The Department Of Corrections aims to rehabilitate but I’d take that with a grain of salt.
Inmates are dying almost everyday, it’s always a joke or unsolved riddle
CO’s sit back and savor the action avoiding to get in the middle.
They are the lion tamers needing to be tamed while the jail is ultimately inflamed
another inmate is targeted and set up, falsely blamed and intentionally framed
From the top to the bottom and the bottom to the top it’s all one big cesspool of corruption
a hell-ified eruption, an insidious volcanic construction
where spirits are bankrupted and terror is well instructed.
Each and every day the madness is continually
the saga dreadfully tells tales about how a jail has lost control
it’s operation crumbles and fails.
Rikers Island at Hazen Street you’ve been doomed and it only gets worse,
closing you down is the best probable answer when it comes to removing your curse.
Poetry by Kenny 