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FREE GEORGE MARTORANO Read some of George's latest writings and letters - creative to say the least - why let this talent be "caged" any longer
"How It Happens" Oct 2010
He lives where the sunsets upon America. He enjoys the golden orange of the evening. He can stand by the emerald sea at dusk and simply enjoy. He truly enjoys his family at the dinner table. He's sincere to his work; a movie producer he is.
Then I wonder why a great fellow like Ken Aguado gets involved in a prisoners plight such as mine. I wonder what makes a man feel this injustice that has fallen unto me. I wonder, and I thank the Lord for a friend like Ken, who day to day seeks and tries for my freedom.Ken, I want you to know one sentence... "Thanks for feeling sunsets in your heart, and me"
George Martorano
July 2010-- I received an article from George recently about a friend, and student of his, Bob Arnold, who wrote a letter to writer Joe Fitzgerald of the Boston Herald. It was published Jan. 19th 2009. I tried to scan it in to share with you, but it is too faded. If you go to the Heralds archives, they want $ to view. So, I will type out the article....
"Simple letter can change a life" by Joe Fitzgerald (Boston Herald)
The envelope bearing the name and address of a federal penitentiary, was not unlike so many that arrive at this address.
But the letter it contained was quite unlike most prison correspondence, for its author, after identifying himself, made a strikingly selfless appeal.
He told of growing up in a North Shore community.
"I have fond memories of the family get-togethers at my grandparents home," he wrote, "I believe we had the biggest family in town. But today it's only my mother who keeps me going."
"I am serving a 12 year sentence for bank robbery. I was guilty, and I am being punished accordingly. As I write this, during one of our many lockdowns, I am sitting in my 8 by 12 foot on a mountain in West Virginia"
"A few minutes ago I was pacing back and forth, waiting for an officer to pass out the mail. I live in a block with 132 other prisoners. At mail call, everyone's face is contorted trying to look through cell door windows, hoping something will come for them."
"I was one of the lucky ones who received a card; like most of my mail, it came from Mom. The one I've hurt so much is still the one who loves me unconditionally and takes the time to let me know how much I am missed. She encourages me to make myself a better person and gives me hope for a brighter future when my incarceration is over."
"I know she reads your column, so I want her to know how much she means to me."
He provided her name and address, and told of other heartaches she has experienced.
"I've seen one letter change a person's whole attitude from anger to hopefulness," he continued. "I watch these guys at mail call and wonder what it must feel like to know family and freinds will never love, care, or forgive again."
"Why is it so hard to show a bit of compassion to someone who needs it more than you could ever imagine?"
Then he ended with a plea, not for himself, but for those who wait in vain to know that they still matter to someone else.
"One of my hopes in writing you," he explained, "is that someone who has a friend or relative in this situation might see my letter and then take the time to let that person know they were thinking of him or her."
"It would also let me tell my mother" 'Look at the message you just sent to so many others through that one card you sent me. Love you, Mom!' "
Please watch for more stuff from Bob, I will post his writings as I get them...
I, Bob Arnold, wrote this over 2 years ago. I wanted to share it with everyone, with hopes it helps someone with their struggles. I am still, and will hopefully always be in recovery....
New Day/New Way
There comes a time-When we need to decide
Do we fight for our life-Or just run and hide
I've hurt so many-And caused so much pain
And now for the past few weeks-I'm not acting insane
Most of my actions-Became a negative consequence
The people I hurt-Just didn't make sense
Now that I look at this-where do I start
It took forty-six years of failure-And I'm still not too smart
They say it ain't easy-And I'll really have to fight
And if I think it's wrong-There's a real good chance it's right
So now I'm walking-Up the first path I chose
When I get to the top-That road will finally close
It hasn't been long-Bit I'm feeling pretty good
I stopped doing what I want-And started doing what I should
When my mind starts to wonder-I remember the past
And all those negative thoughts-Just don't seem to last
Even as I write this-Sitting in a cell
My life is getting better-I'm finally getting well
If by chance your reading this-A very truthful letter
Then you'll know if I can do it-We can all get better
May God come into your life-And allow you to shine
And if you truly want change-Things will be fine
Special Meaning
The book, "They Fought For Each Other," meant something special to me after reading it. One of the soldiers of Charlie Company 1-26, Sergeant Maravilla, is the son of my friend of mine locked up since 1986. I've seen this kid grow up from a young boy into the elite soldier he is today through visiting room visits. His sister is also a proud serving soldier.
Over the years have not only watched their father pay for his crimes; but watched him send them through college and onto the American military. I've watched their dad worry about his loved ones fighting for our freedom, even though he himself is caged. Not once have I ever heard him bad mouth our troops or government.
After reading the book, I learned how bad the battles they faced in Iraq. Taught me to have more respect for our troops over there now. It does not matter if this war is, or was, right or wrong. What mattered is that these young soldiers fought for each other.
Poor stars. Poor stars
High, looking down alas she wont be found
How she lived. How she dance
Loves she had; the very meaning of romance
She so enjoyed the spot, how true when it was such a bright stary night
Poor stars. Poor stars
And we search the land below
Little did we know. One crushed her soul
Told of ways, ways of long troubled days
Told her lies with clover in her hair
Told her she will always be his dear
Poor stars. Poor stars
These nights are but a bore
Oh she was such a Heavenly lore
She smiled after every kiss, no matter how breathless nor bliss
She even had a laugh, up it traveled.....echoing, echoing as it passed
Poor stars, Poor stars
Will she ever return; must we burn and burn so bright; waiting for her one night?
Her name doesnt matter; her being is the fame. Oh what a shame
We poor stars......could we be the blame?
Terrible's End
Terrible, there, the flowers I will never see
Terrible, are the colors and sweet smells taken away from me
Long are the night with myself and , long so long this continuous sigh
Short are the memories of love, please oh Lord I must remember why
My heart beats to a cruel drum, my heart wants, needs just a bit of sun
Lips alone, arms so bare can it be never aday of sweat, care
Oh where oh where are you my dear?
Yes, terrible there is no hill to climb
Yes, terrible this caged life of mine
Terrible is all I know, like a blood river to flow and flow
Terrible, there, the flowers I will never see
Touch of the devil clamped down on me
Touch of ways my my misery’s glee
Touch of the devil need the moon and thee
Soon oh soon I shall walk into a room
Soon oh soon my lips will taste all that can be…..
That fresh lace upon thee, wear it just for me.
CONVICT
He's heard about the convict and the convict's code. But he really doesn't know what it is nor cares. He's been doing time forever. When, if, and ever free, he'll try to enjoy life like he sees on the picture-shows. He's been inside a long time and lives it a certain way. A way that can get him from day to day.
In his mind he really does not know what a lie is. He knows inmates don't lie to one another. Yet, he'll lie to most guards when asked about such and such. He believes in keeping his body hard; even if it kills him .He'll do mostly the same things day to day. He keeps his cell and himself clean.He doesn't worry about the haves and have-nots; long as he gets by. He knows the most important word while caged, "no." He knows not to get to close to short timers, not to speak long on freedom, or the streets. He doesn't have much contact will the free world. The outside can bring you down. There are no photos on his cell wall. No longing memories eating away at him. Yet someday he knows, he'll walk out but surely won't dwell on it. he is far from a stupid man, even listens to classical music. When cornered, deadly; When a friend, he's there for you through the thick and thin of it. At night, very late he'll wake. Think about love, the beach, holding a baby, nice things. Come morning, he'll rise with the dawn and just start over. Once in a while, he will smile, smile the real meaning of smile.
Yes, the photo you see is called "CONVICT", convict and nothing more.
Author Unknown
