The Old County Stockade In Tampa Florida

How could I not watch I was a child A child of seventeen I was alive but weak having not seen the sun since I last went to court. The County stockade on Clark Street in Tampa When I was there was run by Colonel Parrish. And we under age by four or five year's were under constant attack by a trusty called banana and here is what I saw. Over crowded four teen-ager's in a two man cell And I learned early not to sleep near the Bar's. In the middle of the night When the red light was on he would come. Huge white eye's And his middle finger was abnormally large Long and black. The Bar's were flat Flat and thin darker than night And so quite you could hear the cock roaches rubbing Their wing's. I could smell the Coco Butter lotion bought from the commissary Down the long length of the hall And the squishy noise that was made by a man Named banana Moving in and out of one young White boy who was sleeping against the dark bars. Palletable fear such as this one can taste As the smell of his feces drifts down the hall to the rest of U.S. In this one of Florida's many garden's of death Without looking for hell these children found it.