You know it’s funny this should be the word today. As I walked through my city I wondered how many of its homeless are former convicts or pariahs, mentally ill, or just plain helpless (if not all of these in varying degrees of combination). The society I live in says it has the moral conviction to help the helpless, but when I look at the make up of most homeless populations, I see a disturbing trend. How sad this group also comprises of children. Where then, has all our compassion gone?
I wish there was no crime in this beautiful world. No need for this word to exist. I weep for those falsely accused, and weep evermore for those who felt they needed to commit a crime to survive.
Rain pounded the streets of Philadelphia as doors were locked and shut. One man sat by himself under the light of the lamp post at the corner of Rivercreek. Rubbing his hands nervously he glanced at his watch. 2 more minutes he thought to himself
I wonder if He would be convicted what he did to all those people was to horrific. I sit in the jury thinking why all those innocent people what did they ever do. I hope he will get a death sentence or at least life in prison. I think He is guilty even though he pleads innocent.
It was the final day. All these years waiting to hear those words, The struggles i’ve faced and the problems i’ve went though. I was no longer a convict, but a free man.
The burning rush of pain filled her eyes. She wasn’t this person. This person wasn’t her. The tears dripped down onto the cold floor beneath her bare feet. I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve this at all. I want to go home. Home.
Every day, for a living,
he unpacked his briefcase
and explained to the crowds
why they should convict
some man his age, with
children of his own, who prayed
to the same God. And at the end
of the day he packed up his papers
and caught the 7 o’clock train
back to his house and kissed
his children on the forehead
and muttered a quick prayer
as they sat down for dinner
while the other man swore
there had been a mistake
as they sat him down
behind bars of metal where
he would pray on his knees
and wait for dinner
He took one look at the little box. Small. Unyielding. Locked. His hands clenched the cold bars that caged him. A huff took him back from the only hope of freedom.
another earth, it is unlikely, because I am a convict. but in this case, perhaps I am the mot likely. She shuts the laptop gracefully with her wounded and wrapped hands, without moving her paralyzed fingers.
He fled the prison where he stayed for 12 years, three months, and five days. He scurried along the river bank looking for a large city to hide away. Fortunately, Steve stumbled upon a dirty motel.
Convicts… Well I just watched the movie “The Longest Yard” on TV and I have to say, even after almost seven years it’s still one of my favorites. I think that movie reminded me that cons are still people, albeit people who have made some bad choices. I don’t really have strong feelings towards convicts.
The convict hated the prison. So he left. It didn’t take long to slip over the poorly guarded wall and he thanked his stars he was captured in Mexico, not the US where he had been born. Free at last, he disappeared into the night and headed north, to the land of the free. Where no one would know what he had done, where he had been or who he really was. Back to the land where everyone thought him a nice young man, not the sort to kidnap and mutilate little girls.
Convictions. I am not a convict if I have conviction, am I? Doesn’t a convict reject conviction? A convict is one who is trapped or stuck or jailed or incarcerated. Doesn’t one without convictions deserve to be served up a big dish of belief so to avoid being trapped like a convict? I’m convinced I don’t want to become a convict.
We are all convicts. The loners, the preps, the old people, the young babies. From the second we exsist in our mothers womb, we have become convicts. Society makes us convicts, it traps us in a mind that is not our own, and causes us to conform to it’s every will. The people who try to step out of that norm, to attempt not being a convict of the mind, end up even further convicts, with absolutely no free will or thought. This is society. This is life. We are convicts.
I was convicted today for stealing popcorn from the grocery store. I was handcuffed the instant I walked out of the store. I forgot it was in my hand and the idiot cashier forgot to even look in my hands. I feel stupid right now. I’m sitting in this police station screaming ‘IT’S NOT FAIR!’
That was it. That was the conviction. I was going to prison. Forever.
All because of my love for me. My love for Alex was getting me locked away forever. This was the end. I looked around and said my silent goodbye to the world around me. I looked at the large gray building that I would never be allowed to leave again.
She wasn’t one. She knew she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Right? Her mind seemed to flip flop every moment. She hadn’t committed a crime. She honestly hadn’t, she had just said something. Twelve simple words. Not even a sentence. And now those words had gnawed at her whole being. Now, she was considered inhuman.
One criminal was walking around the neighborhood running away from the cops. He decided that he would hide in someone’s house. He entered a house and took the family hostage.
my uncle was convicted of child molestation. He now is on house arrest for 1 year and on a sex offenders list for 10 years. The sad thing is, his daughter who told the cops that he did it, was probably lying.
I love convicts. They teachso much about life. No matter what they did, it teaches you not to do it. Whenever you visit jail, you think of what convicts did. They should not really be teachers but more like lesson teachers, I guess.
A grizzled man materialized out of the fog. Pip was seized with fear as the convict approached him, a metal cuff weighing down his leg, dark bags hanging below his eyes. Prison had made him shadowy, paranoid. He searched the graveyard with wild eyes.
One day I found a man that had been in jail. He was hungry. He was in need of help because everyone threw him aside because he had been in trouble. Convict was stamped on him as if it was his label for the rest of his life. He could do nothing about it. No one wanted to be by him as if he was contagious. His thoughts were his own. I handed him a piece of my cookie and shook his hand. I walked away and smiled a smile.
Each step was heavy for other but she? Was light on her toes against the concrete floor in her orange jumpsuit. it disturbed the other women, knowing her and recognizing her from the news, but this insane but sane woman was a killer and convict and gave no fucks.
We tried him in court, that terrible man, to convict him of murder. It wasn’t terribly hard, you see, for he confessed on the stand. He had gotten his justice outside of the law and believed it time for him to be punished. Strange how justice seemed so far out of our hands.
He’s a thief, a convict. He stole my happiness from me. He broke my heart, told lies and treated me inhumanely. He deserves to go to jail. He deserves the punishment he receives. He’s a convict. He hurt me, mentally, physically, emotionally. No one like that should be allowed to walk freely.
Your a convict, a thief
You take what is not rightfully yours
and you manipulate,
and mutilate,
you rape
pillage and break.
Its fragile requires great tact
Please, put my heart down, and give it right back.
People in jail. They scare me sometimes. Liiiiiiike… I know they’ve allegedly done something wrong, and that makes them mysterious and somewhat dangerous in my eyes. I don’t like seeing the word “escaped” in front of it.
A villian that is juded by his criminal behavior and is associated with being a threat to society and is put in prison. If one esqapes he/she is a fugitive and they can get more jail or prison time for misbehavior. Someth
He stood waiting for something to happen. Four seasons in one day. Leaves fell and sprouted around him. Time passed. Love faded. His life existed and stretched down narrow halls and metal bars. Empty. Resounding.
A convict locked behind barred dreams and futile memories. Imprisoned by a mangled soul, killing each brain cell one by one. It’s life or death in this penitentiary called Reality. Let the convictions of your cellmates alleviate the dark forces sitting upon your tongue, telling you everything to say and do.
convict er et dejlig ord på engelsk, som kan oversættes til dansk. Men det gider jeg ikke til at gøre nu, så det er fuuuuuuldstændig ligemeget. Jeg er sejere end ordet convict, at I bare ved det ;)
Nu går tiden snart. Øv bøv bussemand. Sådan er det jo. Nu kan jeg skal ikke mere orrrd..
lala ajfa fae
somebody who did something bad or is connected to something. conviction is a good thing in some places, isn’t it? or is it bad? I don’t remember. not like it matters, I’m not one. At last I’ve never been to prison, like my convict-friends. Yay more opportunities to type! I think that convicts should be allowed to have that legal suicide thing, whatever that’s called. If it’s bad enough, they deserve to die.
The conviction of life restrain the mind into a box. a box where u a re free to think but your mind is constantly trapped. like the mouse searching for the cheese or the man searching for the light at the end of the never ending tunnel.
A convict living in wonder. A prisoner of the soul and mind. It’s a wonder we don’t get lost behind these bars. Helpless and wonderful. A story lies inside of us all, we’re convictioners of ourselves with dreams of beauty
You know it’s funny this should be the word today. As I walked through my city I wondered how many of its homeless are former convicts or pariahs, mentally ill, or just plain helpless (if not all of these in varying degrees of combination). The society I live in says it has the moral conviction to help the helpless, but when I look at the make up of most homeless populations, I see a disturbing trend. How sad this group also comprises of children. Where then, has all our compassion gone?
I wish there was no crime in this beautiful world. No need for this word to exist. I weep for those falsely accused, and weep evermore for those who felt they needed to commit a crime to survive.
Rain pounded the streets of Philadelphia as doors were locked and shut. One man sat by himself under the light of the lamp post at the corner of Rivercreek. Rubbing his hands nervously he glanced at his watch. 2 more minutes he thought to himself
yroconvictfksahfudhusayconsconvicihrigthrihgireshirytiyeruhgifdsghurdhgidsutyhruytsidyturytireytiureytuiyreutrehfkjdhguhruthgfudkhconvictdfjgsjdhurhgkrheuytroehteeitueghjuthitorconvictfjgejrtirjeigtuieoritortorutoruitrotuieruieotirouteoiroeuoireotuirjdisohgfjgconvict…..find 2 convicts
I wonder if He would be convicted what he did to all those people was to horrific. I sit in the jury thinking why all those innocent people what did they ever do. I hope he will get a death sentence or at least life in prison. I think He is guilty even though he pleads innocent.
It was the final day. All these years waiting to hear those words, The struggles i’ve faced and the problems i’ve went though. I was no longer a convict, but a free man.
The burning rush of pain filled her eyes. She wasn’t this person. This person wasn’t her. The tears dripped down onto the cold floor beneath her bare feet. I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve this at all. I want to go home. Home.
Every day, for a living,
he unpacked his briefcase
and explained to the crowds
why they should convict
some man his age, with
children of his own, who prayed
to the same God. And at the end
of the day he packed up his papers
and caught the 7 o’clock train
back to his house and kissed
his children on the forehead
and muttered a quick prayer
as they sat down for dinner
while the other man swore
there had been a mistake
as they sat him down
behind bars of metal where
he would pray on his knees
and wait for dinner
He took one look at the little box. Small. Unyielding. Locked. His hands clenched the cold bars that caged him. A huff took him back from the only hope of freedom.
i was a convict in Texas. Tanner was the source of the conflict. He makes me crazy. I was hooked since he said my dad let me shoot a guy.
another earth, it is unlikely, because I am a convict. but in this case, perhaps I am the mot likely. She shuts the laptop gracefully with her wounded and wrapped hands, without moving her paralyzed fingers.
He fled the prison where he stayed for 12 years, three months, and five days. He scurried along the river bank looking for a large city to hide away. Fortunately, Steve stumbled upon a dirty motel.
Convicts… Well I just watched the movie “The Longest Yard” on TV and I have to say, even after almost seven years it’s still one of my favorites. I think that movie reminded me that cons are still people, albeit people who have made some bad choices. I don’t really have strong feelings towards convicts.
The convict hated the prison. So he left. It didn’t take long to slip over the poorly guarded wall and he thanked his stars he was captured in Mexico, not the US where he had been born. Free at last, he disappeared into the night and headed north, to the land of the free. Where no one would know what he had done, where he had been or who he really was. Back to the land where everyone thought him a nice young man, not the sort to kidnap and mutilate little girls.
Convictions. I am not a convict if I have conviction, am I? Doesn’t a convict reject conviction? A convict is one who is trapped or stuck or jailed or incarcerated. Doesn’t one without convictions deserve to be served up a big dish of belief so to avoid being trapped like a convict? I’m convinced I don’t want to become a convict.
We are all convicts. The loners, the preps, the old people, the young babies. From the second we exsist in our mothers womb, we have become convicts. Society makes us convicts, it traps us in a mind that is not our own, and causes us to conform to it’s every will. The people who try to step out of that norm, to attempt not being a convict of the mind, end up even further convicts, with absolutely no free will or thought. This is society. This is life. We are convicts.
I was convicted today for stealing popcorn from the grocery store. I was handcuffed the instant I walked out of the store. I forgot it was in my hand and the idiot cashier forgot to even look in my hands. I feel stupid right now. I’m sitting in this police station screaming ‘IT’S NOT FAIR!’
That was it. That was the conviction. I was going to prison. Forever.
All because of my love for me. My love for Alex was getting me locked away forever. This was the end. I looked around and said my silent goodbye to the world around me. I looked at the large gray building that I would never be allowed to leave again.
~based on Delirium
She wasn’t one. She knew she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Right? Her mind seemed to flip flop every moment. She hadn’t committed a crime. She honestly hadn’t, she had just said something. Twelve simple words. Not even a sentence. And now those words had gnawed at her whole being. Now, she was considered inhuman.
One criminal was walking around the neighborhood running away from the cops. He decided that he would hide in someone’s house. He entered a house and took the family hostage.
my uncle was convicted of child molestation. He now is on house arrest for 1 year and on a sex offenders list for 10 years. The sad thing is, his daughter who told the cops that he did it, was probably lying.
I love convicts. They teachso much about life. No matter what they did, it teaches you not to do it. Whenever you visit jail, you think of what convicts did. They should not really be teachers but more like lesson teachers, I guess.
A grizzled man materialized out of the fog. Pip was seized with fear as the convict approached him, a metal cuff weighing down his leg, dark bags hanging below his eyes. Prison had made him shadowy, paranoid. He searched the graveyard with wild eyes.
“Astor, did you eat all of these just now?”
“There’s not a jury in the world that would convict me.”
“Astor, there were THOUSANDS of M&Ms in those bags.”
“Hey, man, the way I see it that was YOUR bad judgment call, giving me that many party-size bags of M&Ms.”
“You KNOW what happens when you do this; you KNOW how dangerous your sugar highs can be!”
“Relax, I’ll be fine!”
“It’s not YOU I’m worried about.”
One day I found a man that had been in jail. He was hungry. He was in need of help because everyone threw him aside because he had been in trouble. Convict was stamped on him as if it was his label for the rest of his life. He could do nothing about it. No one wanted to be by him as if he was contagious. His thoughts were his own. I handed him a piece of my cookie and shook his hand. I walked away and smiled a smile.
Each step was heavy for other but she? Was light on her toes against the concrete floor in her orange jumpsuit. it disturbed the other women, knowing her and recognizing her from the news, but this insane but sane woman was a killer and convict and gave no fucks.
We tried him in court, that terrible man, to convict him of murder. It wasn’t terribly hard, you see, for he confessed on the stand. He had gotten his justice outside of the law and believed it time for him to be punished. Strange how justice seemed so far out of our hands.
He’s a thief, a convict. He stole my happiness from me. He broke my heart, told lies and treated me inhumanely. He deserves to go to jail. He deserves the punishment he receives. He’s a convict. He hurt me, mentally, physically, emotionally. No one like that should be allowed to walk freely.
Trapped. Don’t let go. Where to go? No where. Trapped. Who do you think you are?! I- No where! You convict! what? yeah. What? trapped/
Your a convict, a thief
You take what is not rightfully yours
and you manipulate,
and mutilate,
you rape
pillage and break.
Its fragile requires great tact
Please, put my heart down, and give it right back.
He played the blues like a convict, angry and frustrated at the world. How could he not? Fate dealt him a heavy hand, like a slap.
People in jail. They scare me sometimes. Liiiiiiike… I know they’ve allegedly done something wrong, and that makes them mysterious and somewhat dangerous in my eyes. I don’t like seeing the word “escaped” in front of it.
A villian that is juded by his criminal behavior and is associated with being a threat to society and is put in prison. If one esqapes he/she is a fugitive and they can get more jail or prison time for misbehavior. Someth
He stood waiting for something to happen. Four seasons in one day. Leaves fell and sprouted around him. Time passed. Love faded. His life existed and stretched down narrow halls and metal bars. Empty. Resounding.
A convict locked behind barred dreams and futile memories. Imprisoned by a mangled soul, killing each brain cell one by one. It’s life or death in this penitentiary called Reality. Let the convictions of your cellmates alleviate the dark forces sitting upon your tongue, telling you everything to say and do.
convict er et dejlig ord på engelsk, som kan oversættes til dansk. Men det gider jeg ikke til at gøre nu, så det er fuuuuuuldstændig ligemeget. Jeg er sejere end ordet convict, at I bare ved det ;)
Nu går tiden snart. Øv bøv bussemand. Sådan er det jo. Nu kan jeg skal ikke mere orrrd..
lala ajfa fae
somebody who did something bad or is connected to something. conviction is a good thing in some places, isn’t it? or is it bad? I don’t remember. not like it matters, I’m not one. At last I’ve never been to prison, like my convict-friends. Yay more opportunities to type! I think that convicts should be allowed to have that legal suicide thing, whatever that’s called. If it’s bad enough, they deserve to die.
send to prison
The conviction of life restrain the mind into a box. a box where u a re free to think but your mind is constantly trapped. like the mouse searching for the cheese or the man searching for the light at the end of the never ending tunnel.
A convict living in wonder. A prisoner of the soul and mind. It’s a wonder we don’t get lost behind these bars. Helpless and wonderful. A story lies inside of us all, we’re convictioners of ourselves with dreams of beauty