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About Time is the national newspaper for Australian prisons and detention facilities

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ISSUE NO. 5

November 2024

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Poetry

Behind These Eyes

By

MULLO

MULLO writes from Ron Barwick Prison in Tasmania.

'Tessellation Blue I' by Spectrum, $700, #5757, 80cm x 80cm, acrylic on canvas (Boomgate Gallery)

No one can see the shame and guilt,

Trapped behind these eyes.

As I sit here in a prison cell,

All due to a pack of lies.

Memories that are trapped within,

Deep behind these eyes.

Echoing ever so softly,

Compounding our goodbyes.

To see the love I have within.

Look deep behind these eyes.

For this love I have for you,

Is the kind that never dies.

You may see a broken man,

Hiding behind these eyes.

But from this time in prison,

A better man will arise.

You may see a man of confidence,

As you look behind these eyes.

But in this hell-like place,

Every bit of it’s a guise.

Or you may see a man of strength,

As you peek behind these eyes.

As I sit and think of you,

This strong man, he still cries.

Take a look,

Behind these eyes.

It’s the window to the soul.

Allowing you to see things that you can’t apprise.

For now, I have my thoughts,

Concealed behind these eyes.

Soon I will be home,

I hope you’re awaiting my reprise.

So, when I come home to you,

I trust you won’t chastise.

I hope you take the time to see,

The man behind these eyes.

No one can see the shame and guilt,

Trapped behind these eyes.

As I sit here in a prison cell,

All due to a pack of lies.

Memories that are trapped within,

Deep behind these eyes.

Echoing ever so softly,

Compounding our goodbyes.

To see the love I have within.

Look deep behind these eyes.

For this love I have for you,

Is the kind that never dies.

You may see a broken man,

Hiding behind these eyes.

But from this time in prison,

A better man will arise.

You may see a man of confidence,

As you look behind these eyes.

But in this hell-like place,

Every bit of it’s a guise.

Or you may see a man of strength,

As you peek behind these eyes.

As I sit and think of you,

This strong man, he still cries.

Take a look,

Behind these eyes.

It’s the window to the soul.

Allowing you to see things that you can’t apprise.

For now, I have my thoughts,

Concealed behind these eyes.

Soon I will be home,

I hope you’re awaiting my reprise.

So, when I come home to you,

I trust you won’t chastise.

I hope you take the time to see,

The man behind these eyes.

‘Love is Rebuilding My Life’

By Phillip

There’s irony, hypocrisy, fallacy, a vast ocean of distance to cross. The “saint”, the “sinner”, it’s lunacy, that the ignorant could save the lost.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

2 MIN READ

Methfairytale

By Karie

I’m not belle of the ball, not the very least, but we have something in common, I’m in love with a beast. But the beast is not a person but a drug that I call meth, I’ve been talking to myself for hours, I’m running out of breath.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

1 MIN READ

Nostalgia

By Dennis

Nostalgia is a gentle haze, a soft and fading, golden maze, where time itself begins to blur, and memory’s touch is sweet and pure.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 22

1 MIN READ

Art From Inside

By Lanie

Our team was blown away by this beautiful painting.

Creative

ISSUE NO. 21

1 MIN READ