Gangster Turned Guru Presents: “Catching An Epp”

Oct 10, 2018 at 4:23 PM

Suddenly an agonizing outcry interrupted my afternoon spades game. It’s the wailing I was used to after spending over a decade in the penitentiary where stabbings are methodical occurrences that happen every week. Yet, in the two and a half years I’ve been back in M.D.C. Brooklyn on appeal, there’s only been two stabbings on my unit, which would really be labeled as scratches, not that serious at all. 

But this currant screeching was reminiscent of the past, felt in my bones to where I assumed someone was being punctured to the point of loosing their life. 

Up on the top tier, a cell door slammed open, amplifying the screams from this 6 foot 2, muscular mountain of a man, about 35 years old, struck with a look of pure terror. Blax, my new celli, tried pulling this huge man back in the cell, only to be swatted away like a fly while his yelling continued. 

Mountain man, sprinted to the stairs with the attention of the entire unit watching. A two second hesitation, which I suspected he needed to take a deep breath for the continuing hallowing as he threw himself down the stairs. This was a enormous guy, about 250 pounds of muscles, coming down each of the 15 steps hard. 

Crashing at the bottom, he sprang up, spun around and raced back to the top, bellowing out the piercing scream of horror.
He grabbed the same steel cell door he just kicked open, slammed it against the wall and began punching it bare knuckles, like a young Rocky Bowbowwa beating up a side of beef while training in the ice box. 

By now of course, we all figured out what was going on, he was having what we call an epp, short for an episode, after smoking synthetic weed, known as K-2. These are the weekly occurrences I’ve become used to here at M.D.C., it’s just that this one took the crown. He continued beating the steel door until the C.O.’s ran in. It took five officers to restrain him while he kicked, punched, screamed and defecated on himself, until finally he was cuffed and carried out. 

You would think that guys would see this as an informitable warning that what’s labeled as synthetic weed is nothing like weed at all. Smoking crack doesn’t make people act like that! 
But in this strange world where down is up and up is down, as soon as they let us back out of our cells, all the smokers were running around trying to get some of what he had! How crazy is that.

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Gangster Turned Guru Presents: ‘And so it begins!’

This young Haitian guy Stevie, but calling himself Hyena, came back to the unit after spending 40 days in the hole.

He’s 21 years old but when I tell you he looks like he’s 12, I mean it. He’s shorter than my 13 year old daughter and weighs about 100 pound soaking wet. If we were free in the world together, I’d take him right to my Princesses middle school to beat up all the little boys that want to be her boyfriend.

Hold up, that was the over protective father, triggering my past gangster mentality taking over.

Anyway, Hyena lost his mother in the earthquake that devastated Haiti and came to live with his uncle in Brooklyn. It didn’t take long for the lure of the streets to take hold and he’s since found himself as a member of the Cripps.

Charged with armed robbery, the Feds offered him 10 years on a plea deal.

He came to my cell, asking me for advice.

“Eddie, ten years is like life,” he said with his strong Haitian creo accent.

“That’s how it seems now, but your young, you’ll be all right. Take that!”

“You say that like it’s nothing because you have over 13 years in already.”

“No” I corrected, “I say it like it’s a good deal and if you think about going to trial, they’ll knock your head off with twenty years or more.”

“Well, I’ll go to trial and they’ll have to give me that!” He said.

I’ve heard this argument many times before and I recognize it as the fear talking.

I also understand that he’s looking towards me for advice because he’s scared for his life.

“Hyena, your running around on gang time. You just got out the hole and your chasing the next high smoking all that K-2.”

“I been a Crip before I came to the Feds and I’m Cripping until that day I die. I get high all day cause there’s nothing else to do.”

“There’s plenty to do. Your not making the choices to do it.” I said continuing, “You have to want better for yourself and that means you’ll have to do change.”

“Change for what? They want to give me 10 years!!” He said leaning forward in the chair, running his hands through his mini-afro.

“First of all, if you start changing now, you won’t loose your good time and you’ll be home in like eight years.”

“Eight years!!”

“Listen, this is what comes with the lifestyle your choosing, so get used to it. You want to be a gangster, bust your gun, wave your flag while throwing your little hand signs, then be prepare to do more time after that because you’ll either be killed or come back to prison, those are the consequences.”

“I want like two or three years,” he said like he didn’t hear what I just told him.

“That’s easy to say but the way your thinking and the actions your taking in here are attracting a different result. Take that little bitty 10 years, hopefully it will be enough time for you to wake up and live your true potential.”

Standing up, offering his hand, shaking his head he said, “Man, you say take 10 years like it’s nothing. I can’t hear that right now.”

“You don’t want to hear it, but I speak the truth to the youth!” I said as he turned and walked out my cell.

As much as I would like to grab Hyena, sit him back in the chair and talk to him until he’s ready to change, I know that he has to want better for himself first.

He has no idea that the patterns of thoughts he’s entertaining are setting the laws of attraction in motion to draw his experiences.

He’s convinced himself that he’s a Crip in his mind and speaks without understanding that our words have the power to become the results of what’s spoken. Hyena can’t see the logical conclusions of the path he’s currently on and when I was his age, neither could I.

I try to discourage those headed on that path, but in the mist of doing time, it’s a difficult barrier to conquer.

Instead of focusing on how much time I’ve done or have to do, I pay attention to what I’ve accomplished and my future goals.

Right before we locked in that night, I passed Hyena my “Day in the life with coffee and Paradise” book.

He gave it back this morning, having finished it since it’s only 30 pages.

“Does life really work like that?” he asked.

“That’s a question you should be able to answer if your honest with yourself. Think back to how you were thinking in the past and what lead to where you are now.”

“I like the way you break all that down with the laws and principals. Do you have something else to read?”

“Of course.”

And so it begins.

 

#eddiekwright

#voiceforthesilentfathers

#gangsterturnedguru

#fathersonrelationships

#unconditionallove

#inmateauthors

#blackauthors

#mwrightgroup

Rite of Passage

4EA1C412-4324-48E3-9991-A5C84EF76ECCFrom:
WRIGHT, EDDIE
Mar 25, 2018 at 7:37 AM
This weekend the first national March For Our Lives took place, and my mother, Jean Wright was present with Nia, my 13 year old daughter.
I wasn’t surprised, receiving the early morning message that read, “We’re headed to NYC to March for our lives!!”
It’s like a sacred rite of passage in my mothers mind.

I can still hear my mom’s voice yelling above the crowds of thousands, when I was five years old, protesting nuclear weapons, “1,2,3,4 we don’t want a Nuclear war!!”

My sister Mimi and I would shout right along, with flowers and peace signs painted on our faces, with puffed out afro’s like lost members of the Jackson five.

There still hasn’t been a nuclear war, yet more nations now have and are fighting for nuclear arms, which stirred a few questions in my mind. Why is it that our government is so against allowing every nation to have nuclear weapons for their own protection? Isn’t it their right as a free country?

When our government makes the argument of limiting the countries that have access to nuclear weapons, as a way to insure the greater peace for the world, why don’t we make that same argument when it comes to guns here at home?

AR-15’s, bump stocks and all other automatic rifles are like individual nuclear weapons that have proven to cause mass destruction at our schools and movie theaters.

I know I recently made a post on banning automatic weapons. To me that’s a first step that makes sense.
It also makes sense that if you insist on having a gun in the house for protection, it should be one shot gun.
If you want to have a bunch of hunting rifles and hand guns, we should keep them stored at your local police station, where you have access to check them out for your hunting trip.

There’s a lot of sensible steps that we could take to limit the gun violence in America. Our current governmental representatives, republicans and democrats alike, haven’t done anything but talk a good one for the political spot light.

There are free democratic countries that have almost no gun violence. America appears not to care about the well being of their citizens like those countries do.

The younger generation is the foundation of the March for our lives movement. Unfortunately, it appears that it’s going to take until that younger generation gets old enough to have the political power to demand a radical change.

Until then, we’ll have to continuously re-set the clock in expectation of the next mass shooting.

I don’t want this to be a doom and gloom post. I’m inspired seeing the marches on the news, knowing that the seed of hope and change is being planted by my mother in her granddaughters mind. She’ll grow up knowing she too has the power to make a difference.

Although Nia’s generation would more likely take to the internet to insure their voices are heard around the world.
My mother is teaching her a lesson to march a peaceful protest, taking it to the grass roots that gave us the freedoms and liberties we often overlook today.

That’s a rite of passage that should never be ignored.

Thanks Mom.
#eddiekwright
#voiceforthesilentfathers
#gangsterturnedguru
#fathersonrelationships
#parentingbehindbars
#unconditionallove
#inmateauthors
#blackauthors
#mwrightgroup

BOOKS FOR PRISONERS!

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“I am currently an inmate in a Federal Prison serving my 13th year of a 45-year sentence! If I can find peace and happiness in this type of environment… How is it that people in the ‘free’ world can’t? What is it that I know or what woke me up? I’ve been asked these questions thousands of times and now, following a conversation I had with an inmate, who’s asked these and more, I’m ready to share my thoughts on what I’ve learned with YOU!”

~Eddie K. Wright, Author

One of my goals is to be able to donate my books to prisons all over the country!  Until I am able to support that concept, my publisher has agreed to ship books directly to prisoners in the US at the publishers cost plus shipping.  Please send an email with shipping information including inmate number to mwrightgroup@gmail.com.  My publisher will send you an invoice.

Thank you,

Eddie
#eddiekwright
#voiceforthesilentfathers
#gangsterturnedguru
#fathersonrelationships
#parentingbehindbars
#unconditionallove
#inmateauthors
#blackauthors
#mwrightgroup

Open letter to the father I used to be!

Eddie K. Wright

Referenced Article:  Father Reportedly Refused To Claim Orlando Shooting Victim’s Body Because He Was Gay.

From: WRIGHT, EDDIE

Jun 26, 2016, 1:06 PM

When I first sat down to write this post, right after reading this article about a father who refused to claim his son’s body after he was killed in the Orlando Massacre at club Pulse, my outrage, anger, and disgust for this father who was causing more hurt and pain to his son’s family and friends was clear in my explicit word expression because…..I was mad as hell.

My blood was boiling as visions of a young mans body, alone in the morgue just waiting for his loved one’s to put him to rest flashed in my minds eye. I was livid and had to step away from what I was writing when I noticed how upset it made me.

I went and got a fresh cup of…

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