Dear Jedidiah Murphy,

Chapter one of a book I sit and write eight days before you are removed from your home, a place of confinement that will just be replaced by a man child much like your past self, he a human. With your lingering spirit embedded in the floors, paint, the flat, and drinking source that is attached to the very adjoining place in which you leave all your daily meals behind essence escapes time and time again a place of lingering hate for the situation at bay, the future of the soul next in line. A soul with a tragic upbringing or even more disturbing a normal one. As few men are truly ever evil without a higher purpose, I wonder who he too may become from those nights on the. He could be short or tall like you, he could smell of fear or depression. Unknowing to him the sleepless night you went through. The people you had forgotten to miss until the walls, floors, and ceiling caved in on your organs making it hard to exhale all the things one holds onto. Knowing the places of a man deep inside himself left to the wolves of true darkness, comedy of self, and a new love and respect for time. I promise, these words I intended to make this story of none-fiction into your vibe of conscious being and the infinite realms, the soul of a wanderer. I’ll look forward to seeing you travel in and out of time and into space.

At most with hope these pages would have given you more out of life than any other human may have or may attempt at in the future. I know you're more than the number that holds you close in confinement. A systematic way of thinking, for intentions to correct people or persons not intended to be corrected without compassion of that of a mothering or fathering love.

The chess of man, fear versus the monopoly of God and the building of game plays seen as a game of logic and less of chance. While some take time forced to

feel used much like that of an emotional toy throughout the day’s fight, the game’s true role of collecting spiritual redemption and peace.

A mist, a structure frozen in time of barbaric relief. Bad examples set to only be mocked, at a loss with a stable sense to its poor foundation, broken since the idea of such crimes have fallen into places of an even bigger source for more or less.

The States United have executed their own unfair share of unnecessary violence inside prison walls as the blind have leqd the blind. I leave the spelling as it is for the sake of correction for the nation under God with judicial and social liberties for all. Obligations to a writer, that being a true poet and fan of my stubborn ideologies, you this ideal man of convictions. Time calculated to a “t” seven days, ten hours and fifty-six minutes. Doomsday, written off by faith, yet hopes for the people to come among the effects of a well planned fall of broken promises or position of something promising.

Inmate #00999392

First incarceration:

April Fifth, 1994 Burglary of a Habitat A ten year follow for crimes committed,

May Twenty-sixth, 1994 Burglary of a motor-vehicle, Ten years as well for crimes committed.

Shock you made probation!

“Shock probation is the US legal policy by which a judge orders a convicted offender to prison for a short time, and then suspends the remainder of the sentence in favor of probation. It is hoped that the initial experience of prison will provide an effective deterrent to recidivism.

In shock probation, a convicted offender is sentenced to prison and starts serving their sentence. After three to six months, the judge re-sentences the prisoner to probation, and the prisoner is released under supervision. Shock probation is usually considered when a prisoner is a first-time offender and a judge believes, given the circumstances of the case, that the prisoner has a chance at reform which may be enhanced by being released.

Shock probation is not used in all U.S. states. In states where it is used, shock probation is at the discretion of the judge.[1]

Source of definition: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shock_probation

Untitled

by Jedidiah Murphy

Lately I´ve been saying

That luck´s a fool man´s game;

You plant your fields and reap your crops,

And love your family through pain.

Whoever said it was easy,

Never flew like a dart to the wall;

Never sang about pain in the rain,

Or wanted to sleep through it all.

We all want sunny days,

And baby birds to fly like the wind;

Though should they get burned by the flames,

They know to come home to us again.

Sometimes we plan to walk tall,

And often times end up chopped at the knees;

For who among us plans to fail at life,

Instead of striving to succeed?

In the era of survival of the fittest,

Where we trample the weak and the lame;

Politicians praise God on Sunday,

Then kill those unfortunate in your name.

So when you say your prayers at night,

For love, for life, for family,

While down on your knees with God,

Say a few for sad poets as me…

The ways in which I compare him and connect him to the earth, finding and dishing out purpose for his soul outside of prisons walls and cell block floors is overly compelling. Giving him reason. I know for which he should not have to lay dead after this week to come. In which Texas will take vengeance into their own very hands and wash his inner body with a toxin made to stop his sweetheart. I am undoubtedly falling in love with him more everyday as God stops me in my tracks of my own day to night living as to point out the importance he has been to him. Things I intended to leave with him in his afterlife. A halachic Jew born of the jewish family of God, a love he found reaching the bottom of the pit of life he undoubtedly had little control over. A boy abandoned by all including himself.

He has spent years finding Jedidiah and making a point that maybe, just maybe someone might hear him inside his solitude, he started to write and publish through online sources. Incorporating him and encapsulating the work of art I see him to be, I write just so you a reader could or would do the same. As I dive into the makings of this book including his works of art along the way clashing them like water into mine own as to flow with the river of Jordan, the place of original grace. His essays published have made way for me to explore the depth of soul amidst my own gift bestowed upon me from the connection between earth and heaven. Jedidiah’s spirit is undeniable when looking into the windows of the human itself with portals through the eyes of a grace filled individual. I read him using the love he generates knowing that he mustered the courage to set himself apart through all his living years of oppression, something most white males find themselves in while living in the walls of american poverty and crumbling family structure lacks a head of household that means the most in regard to security, God.

As I introduce him throughout these coming pages I’ll Share with you as many works from his prison cell the internet allows me to find. Through his own very words typed, alive through the mind of inspiration and wonder of everything that should have been. My poet heart can barely hold all the excitement he leaves me with. The endearment to love everything life offers in itself is a work of the art of God that he, Yahweh gives to being alive. I’ll give warning to the fact that most of his life was spent in depression for he was unable to feel just how much a human could love him. While he love’s to love people, I find true likeness between both his and mine, of a very spirit alive traveling in and out of the dimensions we can all exist through. Portals from one life into another’s just like that of books a true loner or enthusiast can become attached to while getting the feel of real people and characters of fantasy.

Dear Jedidiah Murphy,

Chapter one of a book I sit and write eight days before you are removed from your home, a place of confinement that will just be replaced by a man child much like your past self, he a human. With your lingering spirit embedded in the floors, paint, the flat, and drinking source that is attached to the very adjoining place in which you leave all your daily meals behind essence escapes time and time again a place of lingering hate for the situation at bay, the future of the soul next in line. A soul with a tragic upbringing or even more disturbing a normal one. As few men are truly ever evil without a higher purpose, I wonder who he too may become from those nights on the. He could be short or tall like you, he could smell of fear or depression. Unknowing to him the sleepless night you went through. The people you had forgotten to miss until the walls, floors, and ceiling caved in on your organs making it hard to exhale all the things one holds onto. Knowing the places of a man deep inside himself left to the wolves of true darkness, comedy of self, and a new love and respect for time. I promise, these words I intended to make this story of none-fiction into your vibe of conscious being and the infinite realms, the soul of a wanderer. I’ll look forward to seeing you travel in and out of time and into space.

At most with hope these pages would have given you more out of life than any other human may have or may attempt at in the future. I know you're more than the number that holds you close in confinement. A systematic way of thinking, for intentions to correct people or persons not intended to be corrected without compassion of that of a mothering or fathering love.

The chess of man, fear versus the monopoly of God and the building of game plays seen as a game of logic and less of chance. While some take time forced to

feel used much like that of an emotional toy throughout the day’s fight, the game’s true role of collecting spiritual redemption and peace.

A mist, a structure frozen in time of barbaric relief. Bad examples set to only be mocked, at a loss with a stable sense to its poor foundation, broken since the idea of such crimes have fallen into places of an even bigger source for more or less.

The States United have executed their own unfair share of unnecessary violence inside prison walls as the blind have leqd the blind. I leave the spelling as it is for the sake of correction for the nation under God with judicial and social liberties for all. Obligations to a writer, that being a true poet and fan of my stubborn ideologies, you this ideal man of convictions. Time calculated to a “t” seven days, ten hours and fifty-six minutes. Doomsday, written off by faith, yet hopes for the people to come among the effects of a well planned fall of broken promises or position of something promising.

Inmate #00999392

First incarceration:

April Fifth, 1994 Burglary of a Habitat A ten year follow for crimes committed,

May Twenty-sixth, 1994 Burglary of a motor-vehicle, Ten years as well for crimes committed.

Shock you made probation!

“Shock probation is the US legal policy by which a judge orders a convicted offender to prison for a short time, and then suspends the remainder of the sentence in favor of probation. It is hoped that the initial experience of prison will provide an effective deterrent to recidivism.

In shock probation, a convicted offender is sentenced to prison and starts serving their sentence. After three to six months, the judge re-sentences the prisoner to probation, and the prisoner is released under supervision. Shock probation is usually considered when a prisoner is a first-time offender and a judge believes, given the circumstances of the case, that the prisoner has a chance at reform which may be enhanced by being released.

Shock probation is not used in all U.S. states. In states where it is used, shock probation is at the discretion of the judge.[1]

Source of definition: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shock_probation

Untitled

by Jedidiah Murphy

Lately I´ve been saying

That luck´s a fool man´s game;

You plant your fields and reap your crops,

And love your family through pain.

Whoever said it was easy,

Never flew like a dart to the wall;

Never sang about pain in the rain,

Or wanted to sleep through it all.

We all want sunny days,

And baby birds to fly like the wind;

Though should they get burned by the flames,

They know to come home to us again.

Sometimes we plan to walk tall,

And often times end up chopped at the knees;

For who among us plans to fail at life,

Instead of striving to succeed?

In the era of survival of the fittest,

Where we trample the weak and the lame;

Politicians praise God on Sunday,

Then kill those unfortunate in your name.

So when you say your prayers at night,

For love, for life, for family,

While down on your knees with God,

Say a few for sad poets as me…

The ways in which I compare him and connect him to the earth, finding and dishing out purpose for his soul outside of prisons walls and cell block floors is overly compelling. Giving him reason. I know for which he should not have to lay dead after this week to come. In which Texas will take vengeance into their own very hands and wash his inner body with a toxin made to stop his sweetheart. I am undoubtedly falling in love with him more everyday as God stops me in my tracks of my own day to night living as to point out the importance he has been to him. Things I intended to leave with him in his afterlife. A halachic Jew born of the jewish family of God, a love he found reaching the bottom of the pit of life he undoubtedly had little control over. A boy abandoned by all including himself.

He has spent years finding Jedidiah and making a point that maybe, just maybe someone might hear him inside his solitude, he started to write and publish through online sources. Incorporating him and encapsulating the work of art I see him to be, I write just so you a reader could or would do the same. As I dive into the makings of this book including his works of art along the way clashing them like water into mine own as to flow with the river of Jordan, the place of original grace. His essays published have made way for me to explore the depth of soul amidst my own gift bestowed upon me from the connection between earth and heaven. Jedidiah’s spirit is undeniable when looking into the windows of the human itself with portals through the eyes of a grace filled individual. I read him using the love he generates knowing that he mustered the courage to set himself apart through all his living years of oppression, something most white males find themselves in while living in the walls of american poverty and crumbling family structure lacks a head of household that means the most in regard to security, God.

As I introduce him throughout these coming pages I’ll Share with you as many works from his prison cell the internet allows me to find. Through his own very words typed, alive through the mind of inspiration and wonder of everything that should have been. My poet heart can barely hold all the excitement he leaves me with. The endearment to love everything life offers in itself is a work of the art of God that he, Yahweh gives to being alive. I’ll give warning to the fact that most of his life was spent in depression for he was unable to feel just how much a human could love him. While he love’s to love people, I find true likeness between both his and mine, of a very spirit alive traveling in and out of the dimensions we can all exist through. Portals from one life into another’s just like that of books a true loner or enthusiast can become attached to while getting the feel of real people and characters of fantasy.