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

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ISSUE NO. 13

August 2025

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Poetry

Losing Control

By

Goodj

Goodj writes from a prison in Queensland.

Willy Pleasance

“LISTEN UP! LISTEN UP! ATTENTION ATTENTION!”

The calls we hear every day

Whether guilty or claiming you’re innocent

There’s a price we each must pay

“It’s a privilege not a right”

You’ll hear the screws say  

But the moment you’re behind those bars

Your control is taken away

“Get back to your cluster, get ready for muster”

We’re herded around like we’re cattle

Caged, enraged and feeling enslaved

Most not prepared for the battle

Requests fall on deaf ears, for months sometimes years

A game they don’t teach you to play

You think that you’re winning and walk around grinning

But the Parole Board will have the last say

When they get something wrong we laugh and sing songs

But then we face lockaway

Finding a ning who’ll admit their mistake

I won’t hold my breath for that day

Wearing the blue with black polished shoes

They sit in the bowl and they dwell

Coming in crews with the power they abuse

And try to make our lives hell

We sit and we wait ‘til they open the gate

To finally be out of this hole

From my head to my feet, with every heartbeat

I know I’m losing control

“LISTEN UP! LISTEN UP! ATTENTION ATTENTION!”

The calls we hear every day

Whether guilty or claiming you’re innocent

There’s a price we each must pay

“It’s a privilege not a right”

You’ll hear the screws say  

But the moment you’re behind those bars

Your control is taken away

“Get back to your cluster, get ready for muster”

We’re herded around like we’re cattle

Caged, enraged and feeling enslaved

Most not prepared for the battle

Requests fall on deaf ears, for months sometimes years

A game they don’t teach you to play

You think that you’re winning and walk around grinning

But the Parole Board will have the last say

When they get something wrong we laugh and sing songs

But then we face lockaway

Finding a ning who’ll admit their mistake

I won’t hold my breath for that day

Wearing the blue with black polished shoes

They sit in the bowl and they dwell

Coming in crews with the power they abuse

And try to make our lives hell

We sit and we wait ‘til they open the gate

To finally be out of this hole

From my head to my feet, with every heartbeat

I know I’m losing control

‘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