Arthur Henderson, Sr.

#D-25201

California State Prison - Los Angeles County

C5-104

44750 60th Street West

Lancaster, CA  93536-7619

Poetry by Authur 1    and 2

Essay by Authur

Nickname: Bakri Bilal 'Abdal Mu'min

Age: 44

DOB: 06/12/1963

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 179

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Black

Race: Black

Custody Date: 01/15/1987

Offences: Accessory to Murder

1st Degree Attempted Murder

1st Degree Attempted Robbery

Sentence: Life + 11 years

Parole Eligibility Date: n/a

Maximum Release Date: Life

Page Listed: 07/27/2004

Page Updated: 08/04/2007

Seeking: Open To All

Hobbies: All forms of creative writing, songs, poetry, novels, screenplays, etc. . . Seeking knowledge.  I find more joy in reading and studying text books then in watching TV or listening to music.  I love to receive and share knowledge.  As a free man I enjoy the great outdoors in its many forms and the special ness of connecting with someone special.  Being totally in tune with another person.

Dreams and/or Wishes: To become an educator because the world depends on the educators to find and teach harmony on common grounds and respect for all human beings.  Our children suffer our greatest crime when we fail to raise them and educate them properly.  To learn to value human life and other peoples property as an adult is a crime that hurts everyone.

A bit about yourself you'd like the pen pals to know: That I do not fault the world nor my family for my state of lost and the decisions I made because of poor value system or the lack thereof.  That I'm a better man, in fact a man for the first time in my adult life.  That I will gain my freedom and achieve my goals of a family and becoming an educator because life does not deny the decent people a chance to be productive we simply find ways to do so.

Blinded No More

At age twenty-one.  I entered prison without, certainty:

So, I continued a life of raising hell, it wasn't, me:

At age forty my eyes suddenly opened then I could, see:

The towering gray walls that had always imprisoned, me:

I was forced to keep my head held high just so I could, see:

I wanted to see beyond all the ugliness surrounding,  me:

I begin to ponder and contemplate is there a better life for, me:

I knew I had too much time in to cry and too much time in to, die:

I knew I lacked the gift God gave to birds so there'd be no, flight:

I knew then I had to roll up my sleeves and prepare to, fight:

I knew the laws were constantly changing dimming all the, light:

I knew I had no other choice but to improve my mind to win this, fight:

I know the day will come when I'll walk free.  That much I can still, see.

I Dream

I dream of, speaking:

In universities and yes in, nurseries:

For children are our, future:

But, let me tell you, why:

You see each child born, today:

Will become.  I say will, become:

A contributor to our, future:

Some will provide us with, solutions:

Some will provide us with, problems:

No child enters this, world:

And leaves without, contributing:

Just as no human, being:

Just as no human, being:

Becomes a, parent:

Without incurring a, responsibility:

To cultivate our future solution, providers:
For to neglect a, child:

Is to cultivate our future problem, providers:

To not cultivate our, children:

Will not.  I say will not, extinguish:

Our future contributors.

“MY JOURNEY WITHOUT...”

I’m a forty year old African American Man. Divorced father of two wonderful children. My eighteen year old daughter and my sixteen year old son are two of, Allah, Most High’s, wonderful blessings to me. My loving Mother, whom lived and died as a devoted, Jehovah’s Witness and my Father, a Tower of Strength, being two more of Allah’s many blessings to me.

             I’m currently serving a sentence of life without the possibility of parole, plus 11 years, as a result of my prior lifestyle.

            While the, American Justice System, like any system that depends on human beings of various backgrounds and human experiences to make it work. It is certainly subject to its own flaws and human errors. Be it the result of over zealousness frustration with rising crime, or human greed.

            A crash course in American Laws is often the assignment for randomly selected’ citizens sitting as jurors.

            A Judge, who often polite hen addressing the- jurors is suppose to sit as guardian. The Judge’s job is to insure that the rights of all parties involved are protected once inside the courtroom.

            Unfortunately for some of us the American Justice System and indeed America’s Courtroom’s are a time capsule lunge in reverse, to medieval times when the paupers are often guilty of acts amounting to basic survival and handed over to Kings to be thrown into arenas, where Prosecutors often take on the role of Gladiators and Defense Attorneys seem willing to act as Gatekeepers. Where the accused is more of ten than not punished more for lack of education and money.

            In a country where laws are written and adopted more often in times of anger and despair the word Justice appears to have taken on a new definition or been removed from the bronze plaques in front of our courthouses, just as the Corrections seemed to vanish from the bronze plaques in front of our prisons, or maybe it too has taken on a different definition!

            Is it possible that those of us late bloomers, who panicked when we begin to fall behind in grade school. A panic that reached desperation by or junior high years and hopeless resignation by the time we were admitted into the back doors of high school had missed out?

            Should we have chosen a American University to be our first break in? In search of something of value, if not a meal itself?  Then perhaps we would have exposed ourselves to that huge neon sign that read, “America Has Ordered Two Very Important Words Be Redefined. Go and get your new Dictionary or pay later. With Your Life!”

            I’ve always been a slow learner when it comes to text books. Who’d of thunk it!

            My life’s journey into the criminal world seemed both necessary and beneath me, as a person of good home values. Some how what little dignity I thought left in me seemed worth holding onto. And the few means of preserving it was to fall in with the people whose greatest plans always held the possibility of their own destruction and quite often someone else’s! Yet those uncivilized people and their wayward plans for survival always managed to keep themselves fed, clothed, and with a roof over their empty heads!

Now I’ll pretend for a second to have not been born in America, while I ask, “Isn’t there something wholly American about being about to feed, clothe, and provide shelter for one’s self?”

            Granted a basic education is free to every American. But what about those of us, late bloomers, who’ve found ourselves, being the oldest kid in second grade, and continuing to out age our classmates through the remainder of our basic educational years? Yeah, I know these days them mental health folks done laid a name or two to us slow learners, but wasn’t a hand full of them mental health folks done partying at spring break when I was in grade school back in the 70’s?

            The war in Vietnam couldn’t have moved the whole lot of them mental health to fish out those old water bungs from the 60’s. Maybe I should have hunted down one of those illegal head shops on one of those fancy college campuses. You know the dorm that never sleeps. Maybe I’d have seen that neon sign and saved myself all this grief.

            Now for what made me find myself and begin the long tedious journey to becoming both a better learner and a better human being.

            Having been given good home values, I’ve always been attracted tot he good girls. My children’s mothers are both decent law abiding women. I married one of them,-so I should know, right?

            Well just so happens, the one I married had been on her way home from trade school the day we met. She later went on to college. We got married, she got pregnant. No small feat on my part. Then I got arrested for a crime. I’m in The Los Angeles County Jail and once again I’ve taken a sweet, decent young lady and introduced her to a world where nothings certain and most everything no decent person wants to learn about is shown, taught, and bragged about. Even worse, she can’t see her husband, the man she married being forced to live amongst such uncivilized human beings. Now I’m forced to endure her tears and I must figure out why she’s having such a difficult time with it, when she held so much faith in our great American Justice System.

            Bam! It hits me. This beautiful educated young lady sees me the same way she sees herself. Educated, decent and kind to others. Now what can I do to right the ship, which my prior experience with our American Justice System, told me had more than just a little engine trouble.

            Self evaluation. The very thing I did as a second grader that led to my downward spiral. At age twenty-three, I think I handled both the fear and the embarrassment much better.

            I enrolled in school, while I was in the Los Angeles County Jail. Kept any and every guy, who still remembered something he learned about basic education, supplied with coffee and candy bars, so he’d sit with me and teach me the ins and outs of what he still knew. Suddenly, I’m hustling knowledge. After a lifetime of running from my fear of those darn text books and hiding myself amongst others, some of them unaware they’re hiding from their own lack of education. Something screwy about becoming a criminal. Everyone seems to start attaching words like, integrity, solid character, upright individual, and even the words never underhanded or dirty dealing get linked to guys and girls that done done enough uncivilized stuff to force the politicians to take their laptops to those fancy country clubs, so they can write new words to describe what old man Webster hadn’t thought of as conduct engaged in by human beings civilized or not.

            Needless to say that in all those endless months of studying for my G.E.D. and defying every nutritionist that said human beings can’t live very long on black coffee and candy bars, guess none of us had gone close enough to one of those fancy college campuses, so we could have been asked to participate in one of them controlled studies, where we could have saved the American economy from spending all that money to research health foods. Then again those folks that in turn made a living of f those organic health food shops, have a right to their own hustle too. Heck longs its legal, this is American. Back to what I was trying to say or put into words. I spent so much time studying, too heavily invested financially to ever quit, though I swore I had most every night. I forgot apart of the first bet of enlightenment. That is until I hand over my G.E.D. Certificate to my then wife.

            You’d of thought I’d hand her a notarized letter from God, Himself, stating I was now officially on my way to becoming educated. Which as I’d forgotten she thought I was already a well educated man. More to do with all that book reading, novels inside the youth authority. One can’t help but learn a few things along with a handful of fancy words.  Well her shock wore off soon enough. suddenly she could see me fitting in with those uncivilized human beings all dressed alike, talking about how they hate being in jail, while discussing newly revised schemes to make money when their released.  Some of um meant making money literally. She stop visiting and I was pretty lucky all things considered, to still be in possession of that little bit of dignity I took into the criminal world with me. Only getting my G.E.D. had breathed new life into it and started something I enjoy and that I’m proud to be continuing. Never could leave text books  alone after getting my G.E.D. Couple of college credits before prisons stop offering college to prisoners. Couple publishing credits in the short fiction genre, romance. Yep, got those under my belt, which still fastens at the 34” inch belt loop give or take an inch or two. Heck, I’m forty years old now. Not twenty-three. Gee-whiz, I said up front I’ve always been a late bloomer.

            I’ve since lost contact with the outside world.

            All except for a few editors.  No social contact. That’s mainly what I need now. Freedom will come sooner or later. A education sure took its sweet time.

Guess I should be done grown bitter. What the heck for? I’m healthy. I’m a much better human being. Well grounded in my religion. Better educated. Can still find humor in the most unlikely places. Stay away from criminal activities. Non-smoker. Non-drinker. Inspired by life and fear my Lord as He should be feared, able to endure “Fitnah” (Tribulation) with dignity. Stay “Taqwa” (God Conscious) Carry myself with proper “Akhlag” (Character) and “Aquidah” (Islamic creed). I trust fully in, Allah (God) to reconnect me with positive minded people, in the free world.

            Guess the moral to my story or life’s journey without... is I’ve found myself through a love no longer there and I’ve been able to continue to grow as a person knowing, Allah, gave her to me long enough to force me to seek my true self. Now I have Him and the assurance that He will send the woman I’m to share the rest of my life with. For, Allah has proven that He’s both the Best of Planners and the Best Provider.

            Could any second grader have found himself through love for another person, at such a young age? Lets be serious now people!

I guess as a criminal, I was always an impostor.

-END-

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