Mongoose Distro

Poems written by Prairieland defendant Benjamin Song, from April/May 2026.

Please write to Song at:

Benjamin Song 11137512
FMC Fort Worth
PO Box 15330
Fort Worth, TX 76119

Claws, Cat Call, Dagestan, Honeyclaw Nyx

A woman who fights all corners
Takes her life into her hands
Each bout a desperate struggle
Like a cat fighting a bear
Each swipe of the largers paw
A promise of certain destruction
Her defense is merely ferocity
Her strength merely tenacity
The bigger and stronger being
May still get fucked up
If you mess with the wrong pussy
I have also known women bears

Comfortable

I get comfortable
And imagine you
in the next room

Never comfortable
I toss and turn
Nowhere finding ease

I’m always comfortable
Anywhere sprawled out
Relaxing like a cat

The Stone

The stone shows a crack
where rough play and banging about
scratched and chipped and polished smooth
A crack, thin and jagged
all the way thru
from one side to the other, Move
many fissures and fractures
hidden from view

Coffee shop poem

Bright morning sunlight shines through the coffee shop windows
Every glossy wooden chair and fresh flower vase alive in the dancing beams of light
I eagerly jot down lines on the latest scrap, a torn piece of lined cardstock
The poetry is kind of crap, low effort mushy stuff
It doesn’t matter, I reassure myself. The idea is great
My high school sweetheart slides up to my side
Yellow sundress twirling around her waist
What are you doing?
A Radiant smile on her lips
I have a great idea, I say
I’m doing a photo diary of my latest poem!
Each part is written on a different scrap
Like a card or a receipt
It’s angled to point to the next part in the room
I finish writing the line and pick up my trusty Nikon
Shining silver steel moving with comforting weight
The cool metal feels good in my hand
I give her a smile behind the familiar lens
The shot looks great!
It tells a story that takes place in this shop, you see
A warm, exciting story!
Each photo telling the next part
And I am going to bring it to life!
I can see the ghosts of the characters moving throughout the room,
Dancing here, laughing there
I’m going to show them to the world!
The poetry itself isn’t the best
But as a picture story, I think the effect will be great!
I open my eyes, cramped on my brother’s couch
Empty cigarette cartons and crumpled trash
I don’t know anything about photography
I haven’t written a thing in weeks
I haven’t seen that girl in years

Boatman

Boatmen dressed in suits and ties
Cross the Styx and dot the eyes
Psychopomp to our maladies
Shuffle them all down to Hades

Love like the Trees

My love led me here
Love like the trees
Always standing tall

Jail is Normal

In a Federal jail unit
with 90 other people
men, women, and children
trans women and GNC people
teens and elders with white hair
and mobility aids
come and go
week after week
month after month
year after year
Court. Sentencing. Prison.
So many trans women in prison and jail
We are all going thru it
basically the same
2 or 3 million every year
1 in a hundred locked uo
It is miserable sure
It’s where people live
Many haven’t known anything else
Millions of us have been here
People adapt to it
They keep going thru it
It’s important to be clear eyed
About the truth that
….
(remainder of poem submission destroyed, possibly by prison staff)

Yesterday, it wasn’t me

Yesterday, it wasn’t me
But other poor last souls
whose lives are consigned away
to go on behind closed doors
in tower cells, camps, fences, walls
Whole minds, ideas, and memories
love, trauma, and loss
softness and sadness, bravery and strength
2 Million humans in a box

One job town

Young boys and old women
come to work at the village-prison
dawn till dusk for wages given
to stay outside
in homes and bills and wine
not much else to this town
especially with AI around

warehouses for goods mailed just in time
warehouses for rows of artificial minds
warehouses for families, adults, and children

Fuji-san is shining down
Mountain sun and mountain water
Your Colcannon is getting cold

Best Buy

Leg twisted to the side
swollen stiff as wood
who knows what happened
And I can’t remember when
Slide into another uber
Another day at work
Can’t keep going like this
Can’t take a single day off
Medicine
Care is something
that happens to other people

Strip Club

I’m studying real estate
What about you?
Let’s get this guy
To buy a bottle or two
I’m working commission
You’re working for tips
Let’s make a plan
Let’s make a move
He’s a rich guy
On a long trip

Toilet Paper

Please put the paper in the bag
Do you have a sign
that the plumbing here
cannot handle trash
not even the paper
we think is meant
to be flushed down
our strong toilet plumbing
Do you live on the side
where easily exists the wealth
to dispose of all refuse
refuse it tells you
the world is designed to dispose
does your sink have a blade
a mechanized sword
to cut up the trash
and force it down
the strong metal pipes
of the clean nation

Long Term Care

Long term care
Uber to work
Clean the sheets
Change the catheters
Study like a nurse
Pay like a janitor
Travel to home jobs
Or failing facilities
Middle men take the money
No money for insurance
No money for bills
No long term care
In long term care

Potluck

What are you bringing to the potluck?
Tables and tables
covered in dishes and love
Kimchi fried rice and lentil curry
cabbage salad, cucumber salad, shirazi salad
tamales and pintos and Spanish rice
coconut soup and vegetable stew
samosas and sambuusas and empanadas too
casseroles and lasagna and giant ravioli
potato and yam and cassava and daikon
spring rolls and egg rolls and enchiladas
gyoza and wontons, pierogi and one pelmen
edamame, tofu, mozzarella, and paneer
sourdough, pita, naan, and lavash
takoyaki balls and bowl of colcannon

The Elevators Have Stopped Working

The elevators have stopped working
dying cars, freezers, and lifts
stickers stay frozen
the elevator here
hasn’t worked since last year
Derivatives make better stuffing
than commodity foodstuffs
speculation on futures
event contracts on suffering
Perpetuals declare
competive advantage
in imaginary steel

7th Day

And Satan said to God
on the 7th day
This world you made
is not so good actually
You have cut some corners
The crops are not growing
The rivers are running dry
This is all a facade God
You can’t leave them this way

Kimchi Making

The napa cabbage leave
cracking and pulling apart
watery pages of green and white
crisp and stiff
we rub them and cover them
with thick corns of salt
Every tabletop and counter
covered by plates and platters and cutting boards
salted cabbage curing all over the house
all the cats looking on from the ground
wary of all the strange plants
spreading out taking up their climbing ground
their spots for jumping and stepping on

chop chop chop, rhythmically knocking
knife on wood chopping
we dance around each other
thru the kitchen and dining room
washing and peeling
scrubbing and chopping
chopping and chopping
carrots and daikon
mizuna and green onion
rinsing and shaking
removing roots and stems
silver, ribbon, slice
piling a mound in our big red bowl
we the gochugaru
dried red pepper flakes
glittering like rubies and red gold
twice, three times, eight cups all told
for our special extra spicy kimchi

we boil the sweet rice flour
to feed to our yeast friends
we pour the paste into our big red bowl
with vegan fish sauce, salt, and MSG
we put on nitrile gloves to protect
against having angry stinging hands
and stick our hands deep down
into the mix to mix and stir
and squeeze together and
squish all the clumps and move the globs
until our veggies cry out their tears
and become a smooth spicy paste
our tasty ruby kimchi mix

We boil the jars and clean their caps
wait for whole ten hours to pass
we rinse the softly wilted cabbage leaves
shake them dry like floppy dogs
we take the big red bowl
drag a leaf through red paste
squish it deep down
into the depths of our lovely mix
cover it well on both sides
wrap a bundle of slivered veggies and ruby paste
and shove the bundle down
to the bottom of our jar
squish it down into the side
so that no air bubbles show
through the clear wall of our jar

Koreans say ‘hand taste’
is the taste of homecooking love
we alternate back and forth
I fold a leaf and roll it
push it way down
you cup your hand
around our kimchi bundle
and squish it down
and squish it down
bundle by bundle, leaf by leaf
layer by layer we pat it down
and top it off with goodies and paste
reds and greens and white and orange
let no air bubbles show
we place on the cap
not too tight
don’t want it to explode

then we pack the next jar
back and forth
back and forth
your hand, then mine,
your hand, then mine
reaching into the jar
we’re tired but happy
at the end of the day
when we make kimchi
we eat hot rice
and fresh kimchi and extra mix
white fluffy short grains
sweet crunchy, spicy, salty veggies
we fall asleep dreaming
of kimchi creations:
kimchi mandu and KBBQ
kimchi jiggae and kimchi bokkumbap
kimchi ramen and kimchi hot pots

Criminal defense lawyers often do not go with the defense their clients want to use. A lot of times, they go with what sounds good to them instead of what then truth is. Or, they will lose on purpose because the D.A. is so arrogant that he does a piss-poor job because he thinks you’ll just take the plea-bargain “deal”. Then if the defendant turns out not to be a dumbass after all and goes to a Law Library and punches a bunch of holes in the D.A.s case, the defense lawyer doesn’t want to embarrass the D.A. by beating him at trial, because they have to see that D.A. again in court tomorrow, but never has to see YOU again. So who do you want to please? So, your own lawyer will take a dive in the 5th round, like a boxer paid off n threatened by the mob.

David Matthew Strunk 102504
Arkansas Valley Correctional Facility
12750 Hwy 96 @ Lane 13
Ordway, CO 81063

April 3, 2026
Fort Worth, Texas

The lesson from Luke. And one of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us.” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God since you are under the same sentence of condemnation?”

And we indeed have been condemned justly for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds. But this man has done nothing wrong. And then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And he replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” This is the Gospel of Grace. Thanks be to God.

Earlier this Spring, nine activists were convicted on terrorism and other charges in a Federal case here in Fort Worth, which many see as setting an alarming precedent for groups opposing the policies of the United States government. The charges came after activists set off fireworks outside of ICE’s Prairieland Detention Center in Alvarado late 4^th or early 5^th of July. Some in the group split off from the main and began spray painting graffiti and slashing government tires. A police officer responded to the scene, drew his weapon, and was allegedly fired upon and hit by one of the activists. He survived. In April, eight of the protesters were convicted of riot, detonating explosive devices, and materially supporting terrorism. The alleged shooter was also convicted of attempted murder. The administration labeled the court victory as vindication of its crackdown on Antifa, a loosely defined term for those opposing Fascism.

Cody Cofer, a former Broadway member, represented one of the defendants. He said the case illustrates how easy it is for the State to prosecute for conspiracy to commit terrorism if they are in the wrong place at the wrong time or connected with the wrong people. The result is the effect of making the American public afraid to show up to even a peaceful protest for fear of someone somewhere may get out of hand and anyone and everyone be charged as co-conspirators. People should be scared, Cody said.

When Jesus came to Jerusalem in that last week of his life, he led a controversial demonstration against the citadel of his nation. That was either on Sunday or on Monday. We’re not sure which. What we are sure of is that on Thursday, the soldiers were sent to come and arrest Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. In the melee that erupted at the time of his arrest, the slave of the high priest was wounded by the sword of one of Jesus’s disciples who was trying to defend Jesus. That man too survived and Jesus surrendered peacefully. At the trial, the Jewish authorities accused Jesus of the crime of blasphemy and of threatening to destroy the temple. But when he was brought before the governor, Pontius Pilate, the charges became even more grave. He was charged with crimes against Caesar and trying to overthrow the Roman government. He was found guilty for his role in the demonstration. He was judged as a provocateur and accomplice to the violence of his disciples. He was sentenced to summary death. He was hanged on a cross and he died between two criminals. Some translations say bandits and others say rebels. One on his left and one on his right. Roman crucifixions were like American lynchings. They were public spectacles meant not only to torture and kill one but to terrify all. So it was that this Jesus died on that day in Jerusalem. A by word and a scandal and a public example.

He died for the protest and demonstration.

He died because of the company he kept.

He died because he was deemed an enemy of the state.

He died because, well, they wanted to make everyone afraid.

So then we say: “He died for the sins of his nation.”

After the Prairieland Nine were convicted three Fridays ago, David Grabel, a Broadway member and fellow minister and one of our readers tonight, met with some of the family members. One of the mothers of one of the convicted, a woman of faith, shed tears in the presence of David and asked him, “What’s God’s plan?” Now that, beloved, is a Good Friday question. And here too is another from the words of the old Black Spiritual: Were you there when they crucified my Lord? And was it something like we are experiencing even now? Tonight, we come to be near to a man on a cross, Ecce Homo. Here is the man. Some say he was a criminal, others a terrorist and an enemy of the state. So he was condemned. Yet some of us say, some of us say: Truly he was the son of God, the savior of the world.

Greetings, Friend, fellow anarchist and U.S. political prisoner Anson Chi here. I hope you’re doing well. I’d like to update you on the new egregious misconduct by the United States Bureau of Prison against us anarchists:

-The BOP banned all my anarchist publications, as well as other ones. The BOP even banned and then rejected my snail mail, because I am trying to fight the police brutality in my case that led to my wrongful conviction and wrongful incarceration. I have proof that I can mail you.

-The BOP never gave me a single rejection notice, not one, nothing at all. The BOP just blatantly banned my snail mail!

Anson Chi 44588-177
FCI Ray Brook
PO Box 300
Ray Brook, NY 12977

PREA Deposition Episode 1
https://youtu.be/NhHCkR7eHVg

PREA Deposition Episode 2
https://youtu.be/mSomqFzX15s

PREA Deposition Episode 3
https://youtu.be/YfleMavqScQ

PREA Deposition Episode 4
https://youtu.be/BvvzA-9jAX8

Plain Potato Chip

The pleasure of a plain potato chip

After weeks of sensory deprivation

The transparent thinness

Ephemeral crunch

The taste of hot oil and fried potato

The boldness of salt

Solitary

Solitary ain’t so bad

At least

there is privacy

Transposed

A fast walk across concrete

My greedy strides consume

ground like eager travel

with places to go

Winter air fills my nose

dry, savory, smokiness

sweet wood and cold stone

I hurl myself forward

Back to my first day in Tokyo

Flying across unknown streets

with all the wonder and excitement

And pleasure of being in the world

Tapping

A child is tapping on my glass

Angrily, insistently

Shake my fishbowl

Stand up! Do what I say!

The New Zoo

Inside my cage I roar and I rage

The animals hoot and bellow

Their yells and screams

Shake the walls and seams

Tako

Octopus escaping onto the cooking street

Walking by our eyes happen to meet

Tentacles freeze climbing o’er the side

Prairie

Warm beer on the prairie

Seas of waving grass

A vast ocean of blue sky

A Mongol horselord riding

Across an endless world

The New World

Rivers toll towards the Great Middle Sea

Valleys engineered by AI Dreams

Boomtown ports of the New Humanity

Prison Art

There’s a Charizard in Segregation Cell 210

It’s so big, across the wall and ceiling

10 feet off the ground

I don’t even know

How it was drawn up there

Flaming breath and iconic tail

Claws, wings, and fangs

It’s the best Charizard I’ve ever seen

It fills me with wonder

I’m lucky to be here

Like my first Artists’ Alley

or step onto Akiba’s streets

Surrounded by filth and prisoners’ screams

It’s a peaceful and Holy scene

Merry Christmas

On my way to court

I saw a homeless sweep

Merry Christmas

And a Happy New Year

On my way from prison to court

I passed a homeless sweep

polo shirts, always standing around

poor workers in reflective vests

picking up trash, belongings, clothes,

haul away tents, meds, lives

Neighbors shuffle away

they carry on, shelter gone

2 days before Christmas

And a Happy New Year

New Year

I stay up on New Years

To watch the first sunrise

Not always, but often

Sometimes, I’ll climb a roof

Lay on slanted black shingles

It doesn’t matter much

But it’s a symbolic action

One I choose

To orient myself

First Sunrise

The barest hint of scarlet-pink tints the first sky

Long thin clouds streak pink like ruled lines

the sun’s rise brings on a deep purple hue

till the windows on the opposite prison wall

reflect peach colored sky above dark slopes

like gentle volcanoes; the sunrise above Maui

the morning finally brings blue and violet into the world

it brings the tan of Texas buildings and Texas dirt

and silvery rolls of shining barbed wire

the brake lights of the security car slowly roll by

wide bands stretch out light across the sky

and move like fingers grasping the world

windows change from tropics to sterile whites

revealing old rusted iron bars

all the colors now meet

a layered quilt, pink, red, black, purple, orange, blue, and white

Finally, I see trees in the distance

Dark, shapelessness resolving into green

the grasping hand of clouds has gone

Is it hidden or dissipated?

Faerie Cat

Faerie Cat

upon my lap

How fae loves to play

massages and naps

Fae love to relax

we whittle the time away

Cooking, experiments, and steeping our tea

we eat feasts and treats

Kimchis and hotpots

pasta, chocolate, and soup

We could run a vegan buffet.

Our kisses and hugs

Fae love affection and joy

history, mystery, myths, stories, and maps

We talk together all day

Now you have gone

to an iron cage

Taken, maeve ‘the fae’

magik sealed and hidden away

The realm of our life

still burns brightly today

A world of our Sun

and our rainy days

We can’t be kept long

we reach out our hands

And rejoin them soon

to return to the people

And other cats

who await the end of our stay

My love

My lover

And my best friend

I long to see

the fire in your eyes again

all at once

Time is a circle

Not a straight line

Our warmest embrace

Happening yesterday

Still happening today

Will go on tomorrow

Benjamin Song 1137512

FMC Fort Worth

PO Box 15330

Fort Worth, TX 76119