Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Kamau Damail

Kamau Z Damali
RD Morgan 279380
GBCI segregation 535
PO Box 19033
Green Bay, WI 54307
Raynell Morgan, a.k.a.Kamau, has been in segregation for over 12 years. By the end of 10 years he was impulsively washing his hands hundreds of times a day, heard loud clicking in his head, could not eat, was sure “they “had planted devises in h9is head. the prison where he was house, form SUPERMAX, now called WSPF, had lost a lawsuit by prisoner and are no longer allowed to housed the severely mentally ill. Kamau’s symptoms became so extreme , he was whisked out of WSPF to GBCI and a segregation unit with worse conditions but one where the mentally iol can be warehoused indefinitely with impunity. He was transferred there last year and has been promised a graduation to general population for many times. And like at WSPF , it seems “they are playing with him.

Raynell Morgan is one of the many prisoner who we call political prisoners- the real threat the present is to the prison system is Leadership. Most of these men, many who are excellent jailhouse layers and win cases (like the Supermax Lawsuit) , are politically aware, and among those I know, Are do not advocate violence but are strong promoters of human rights and universal justice . I feel very privileged to know these men. They are aware, focused and respectful generally of all life. Incidentally, many prisoners have turned to the Muslim faith,partly , I think , because it gives them a strong structure for their day as well as something strong to believe in- ALLAH. I have not heard any of the prisoner muslims I know advocate violence of any sort.

Please send Kamau a card or write a nurturing message. I am also posting some of his writings here:
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South Africa: A Tribute
By Kamau T-Z, Damali
Originally written: 2007

A glorious place
A conquered place
A diversified place
A place where
HIV/AIDS claims
Millions of lives.
Orphans millions
Of babies
A place where
Poverty is a landscape,
A bully to the down trodden
Where hope is
A paradox
Basking in the sun
Ott the Afrikan Savannah
Where despite
The hardship and agony
Joyous laughter
From young children
Can be heard
Across the country,
The Continent and beyond ...
A place where struggle
Keeps hope alive
A place where Nelson Mandela resides
A place where Aparthied died
A place of beauty
Tn the midsl of an
Ugly tragedy.

The Jungle!
By Kamau T,Z. Dacaali June 2007

Curious eyes
Watch from
A distance...
Screams of happiness
Swing from
Tree to tree
Glides freely
In the sky
Arrogantly strolls on
The terrain
The aroma
Of life & death
Tenderly perfumes
The air
Peaceful one moment
Tumultuous the next
Native hands
Delicately tap
The Tom Tom drums
Radiating the
Jungle's tempo
Its creatures
Of all varieties
To function
With its

To the Oppressor
By Kamau T.Z. Damali
Originally written: June 14th, 1996

I have been doing
Your dirty work for
A multitude of years,
1 helped you terrorize
My people and bring
Them to their
1 watched you as you
Raped my daughter, my
Mother, my sister, my wife.
Debased my lather, my grandfather,
Mv brother, my son and
Made a mock of
My life ... for fun.
1 am here
To let you know
That I am no longer
Your knee-gore,
1 will no longer
Fight in your wars,
Sell your drugs
Nor destroy my community
With your guns
I will however,
Fight your injustice,
Oppose your oppression,
And struggle to uplift
The New Afrikan community
Out of its current
Depression ...

Against the Odds!
,By Kamau T.Z. Damali
Orignally written: May 2007

Crying rivers over
A matter long gone
Out of control
Backed up against the Wall
Caught up in a twilight Zone:
Devoured by the
Hungry mouth
Of poverty
Stumbling over
Body after body
No escape:
Swept away by
Furious tides of sorrow
Hanging on for tomorrow ...
Confused over how
To overcome misery
And depression
While aiming for progression
Moving forward
On both feet
Going toe to toe
With oppression
Becoming more and more
As courage compels
Me to battle
Against the odds

Composed by Raynell D. Morgan
Aka Kamau Tebogo Zulu Daniali

I hove been one of Amerikka’s prisoners for over 400 years,
The blood and tears of my people are her lakes & rivers,
She claims to be the apotheosis of liberation,
When fact is, she enslaved two-thirds of the Black Nation, plundered the Red man
Of his land and placed him on a reservation,

I can still smell tile fresh blood of Afrikans & Natives, who died in Ameriltkka's hand
from years passed because they wanted to free. And I can still hear the crescendo
speeches from the brothers & sisters of the 50' s & 60" s who vociferated: I am man, 1 am a
woman, as they marched in the street.

Blood shot eyes from cold emotions & sleepless nights;
I can’t recall me last time I cried… I can't recall the last time I laughed…
Angry frowns in the faces of the prisoners, definelong life struggles….
Ancient memories as a youngsta; ~
Warm hugs & kisses from the embrace and lips of my mother.

Screams from new bom babies spell revolution ------
Conscious Black men driven in hope & rage, in search of a solution…

Generations of young Black males with high esteem & dreams of going to Harvard or
Yale but instead they end up in one of Amerikkkars prison cells.
Look at me, my face is the face Amerikkka doesn't want the world to see;
Listen to me, my voice is the voice Amerikkka doesn't want the world to hear
Who Am I?

I am that brother, that Alkebulanian man whose mission is to break Amerikkka's chains.

Working .*» Survive
(originally written, June, 2007)

Up and ready
At 4:30
Every morning
The local steel mills
To put in some
Work to feed
His family...

Sweating Black
From the ahes
And fumes of
The machinery
Working for less
Than ten dollars
A hour...

He believe he
Deserves more
But the Boss man
Isn't trying to hear it

Approached at lunch break
By a coworker
To join a union
And protest unfair wages
And working conditions ..

Intrigued by the idea
But can’t afford
To miss work or
Jeopardize his job
Because his lovely family
Depends on him
For food and bills,

He regrettably turns
Down the invitation ....
He glares at His hands
Evaluating bruises
Left by the steel,
The drills,
hot flames,

in shame
He puts his head down
And goes
Back to work ....

Kamau Z Damali
RD Morgan 279380
GBCI segregation 535
PO Box 19033
Green Bay, WI 54307

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