Wednesday, July 31, 2013


In one of my last posts I told of some of the games the guards play. I also told of some of the cruel things they do. However if I'm to be completely honest a lot of times we "the convicts" are our own worst enemies. Do to the power and control the guards have over the convict population because of the lack of unity between convicts that use to exist. You will find a lot of convicts turning against each other and playing their own games to help the guards and therefor maybe make it easier on themselfes.

I said I would tell you of those games and so I will and it's not only on solitary confinement that these games are played it's in open population as well. For example you have a lot of convicts on solitary confinement for up to 2 years because when in open population they made another convict angry.
And to get even that convict, planted a shank "knife" inside his cell at some free moment and then told the guards that he had a shank and was going to kill someone. The guards go and search the cell and find the planted shank. And guess what? The guy got set up and now will be in solitary for no less than 18 months.
It doesn't matter that there is no proof, the appeal system is a joke.

Once on solitary you have to watch out for all kinds of other games. Someone may get mad at you over some disagreement and write a inmate request to change your diet. They put your name on the request like it's coming from you. Next thing you know you are getting a alternate diet with no meat on it and it takes almost a month to get it changed.

Or maybe someone is real hungry or wants cigarettes they will make a whole made shank from the metal of the recreation cage and turn it in to the guards. For in return they might get extra food or cigarettes. However the same shank they sell to the guards is the one the guards use to plant in the cell of a convict that pisses them off.

So we hurt each other in hopes to get a little help from the guards. People do a lot of things on solitary they may not do in open population because they don't have to face "convict justice" which in all likelyhood would deter them from doing those things. If when they did those things they got a good ass kicking they would think twice. But on solitary they can hide in their cell and do as they please and no one can get to them or hurt them. Thus no "convict justice".
I will explain convict justice in my next post. Until then BE SAFE.

one man caged

Ricky Silva DC# L24722
Florida State Prison
7819 N.W. 228th street
Raiford, Florida 32026

Sunday, July 28, 2013


Johnny D. Reed
born 03/22/1973
died 12/21/2012
July 18th, 2013

The poem to go along with this post is dedicated to Johnny Reed who was murdered by the department of corrections.

Why do I say murdered when in all reality he hung himself? Because first they killed all his hope and then by leaving him in solitary for almost 10 years, they killed his spirit.

Make no mistakes, he was murdered and they used his own hands as the weapon.

Someone on the wing with me now told me just yesterday that this happen all the way back in december 2012. Johnny was not perfect but I liked him and neighter he nor anyone else deserves to go through what we are going through with this long term solitary confinement.

The poem pretty much says how I feel. I just found this out yesterday so I don't even know what to write. But it is a reality check for me. We are all mortal and I have been real close to ending my own life many times. But Johnny will not be forgotten, at least not by me.

Be safe.
one man caged

dedicated to Johnny Reed (died December 2012)

He sat in the darkness, for almost 10 years
Striding foward each day, swollowing his tears
He was not perfect at all, but he didn't deserve this
To rot in a cell, with no one to love or to miss

He was quick to laugh, when he was feeling well
Or to tell a joke, to get us away from this hell
He was a man of his word, this I know to be true
If you gave him respect, he would in turn respect you

But with each passing day, his world became black
The darkness covering a world, he would never get back
Life became heavy, a great struggle each day
depression set in, and would not go away

Than one day the wing became loud, with everybody banging
The guards went to check it out, and they found Johnny hanging
They broke his fucking ribs, trying to pump air into his chest
And then let him die, saying that they did their best

Johnny for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go
You were one of the few in here, I was happy to know
I can't lie and say, it has not crossed my mind
I've come very close myself, from time to time

You were a warrior Johnny, make no mistake
But even a warrior, has only so much they can take
Just want you to know, you will be missed
Not just another soul, claimed by the darkness

by Ricky Silva, July 2013

Friday, July 26, 2013


The Close Management Cell / Florida State Prison
drawn by Daniel McKee (Florida State Prison)
Some of us have already lost, some are facing defeat
We're now paying the cost, surrounded by concrete
A lot is out of our control, or even much worse
We pay now with our soul, for things we can't reverse

Darkness is all around, yet we have no time to mourn
With dew upon the ground, comes the brand new dawn
Clouds often fill the sky, yet at times they come apart
Then the sun sits up high, brightening my broken heart

We sometimes feel the pain, of looking loneliness in the face
The tears fall down like rain, but solitude we won't embrace
In this tiny cell, I've dwelled for many years
My heart lets off a yell, for the hope that swallowed my tears

It's not over yet, for I take another breath
Though I won't forget, I admonish the thought of death
I will not choose to fail, it is meant for me to be free
I will walk freedoms trail, if only mentaly

So with the sky so very blue, the eagle spreads it's wings
After all that I've been through, I can make it through anything
The mud may be to my knees, as I trudge through life today
But tomorrow comes on the breeze, blowing all the mud away

So I hold hope near, pushing away fear and sorrow
Fighting what I hear, hoping for tomorrow
And when tomorrow finally arrives, I will be standing tall
Because only the strong survives, and I will never fall

by Ricky Silva, july 2013

Wednesday, July 24, 2013


I must say I was very close to giving up on this blog for a couple of reasons. One reason is because I don't feel I'm a good enough writer to bring my message to people in a way they can understand. The second reason is a branch of the first reason. Do to the first reason i didn't feel I could make it productive. However I have been convinced by someone very special to me to keep doing it because despite how I feel it is and can be very productive. So here I am writing now.

In a way I'm starting fresh.
So let me tell you about Solitary Confinement on a long term basis in the state of Florida. It is better known as Close Management. There are 3 levels to complete befor you return to open population. It is a long journey. I have been on Close Management for 4 years and I just made level 2.
People come to Close Management for serious rule violations such as, assault on staff, assault on inmates, possesion of drugs or of a weapon, any serious offense.
When you come for those serious reasons you start on level 1 and must complete level 2 and 3 before you return to population.
But you can also come to Close Management for many minor violations very close together in which case you would start on level 3 and for sure be back in open population faster than someone starting on level 1.

The living conditions consist of a 6 by 10 foot cell, you have a steel toilet and sink, a steel platform to place a mattress that is about 4 inches thick. You have a window and a small foot locker to place your property in. You are fed 3 meals a day consisting dirty vegetables and whatever mystery meat. They have that pass through a flap in your cell door.

You are allowed 2 hours 3 times a week in a outdoor recreation cage no bigger than your cell.
However should you choose to go, the guards that take you will trash your cell and steal from you as a method of keeping people from wanting to go because they don't want to have to escort you out there and watch over you.
They call it random cell search. They do this a lot when they want people to stay in their cell. They are not searching for anything they are just messing all your property up to make you not come out the next time.

Other than recreation we come out of our cell 3 times a week for a shave and shower. So most of our time is spent in our cell.

The guards have a lot of cruel methods they use to either flat out abuse someone or to make them conform to their way of thinking. For instance they feed very small portions of food ensuring that you're always hungry and even if you're fortune enough to have money to buy food off of the inmate canteen it doesn't matter because you're only allowed to buy 5 single food items per week. So figure 5 small bags of potato chips per week, what will that really do to stem your hunger?
So hunger is one of the methods they use. Another is harrassment such as messing your cell up every time you choose to leave.

Then there is flat out physical abuse while you're in handcuffs and leg restraints. You are defenseless and they will beat you up. No way for you to fight back.

And then if you are able to make it past all that and go all the way to level 3 you have to hope one of the guards doesn't get mad at you and during one of those random cell searchs they are so fond of find a whole made shank "knife" that was not there when you left your cell. But they planted it there because they know it will get you sent back all the way to level 1 and cost you at least 2 more years in Solitary Confinement.

It's a very dirty game that's played back here and it's not just the guards that play those games. A lot of times the convicts play games on each other. Those games that the convicts play I will write about in next weeks post. I will make a post every week. Until then thank you for reading whatever your reasons may be.

One man caged,

Ricky Silva DC# L24722
Florida State Prison
7819 N.W. 228th street
Raiford, Florida 32026

Thursday, July 18, 2013


I thought of something you might want to know about.
It is a procedure they use here that started about 5 years ago. It is called "property restriction" and it's a cruel thing. They use it out of context. Whenever you piss off a guard he will lie and find a way to put you on property restriction, better known as STRIP.

They don't just take all your personal property they take everything out of your cell. They leave you a pair of boxers, that's it. No mattress or sheets nothing in your cell but you and your boxers. You sleep on steel for 3 days that's if you can sleep at all.
When it's winter time they will turn on the fans so you can be as cold as possible. It is like torture.

I went through only once but it was in the winter so it was really bad. Not something I ever want to go through again if I can avoid it.

So just another one of the ways they find to legally abuse us and we have tried, there is nothing we can do about it. They pass it off as a security issue and there is no way to prove they are abusing it.

The following poem is about how I felt when they put me on property restriction.


It's so very cold,
please bring me the heat.
I can't fight the ice,
I must now retreat.

I backtrack from war,
in the deep white snow.
I look over my shoulder,
and no footprints show.

It's cold, it's so cold,
I feel frost in my veins.
I seek the warmth of a smile,
and find only disdain.

I treck on, I treck on,
but there is no end in sight.
It all feels so real,
why do my lungs feel so tight?

The pain is to great,
it knocks me to my knees.
It's so fucking cold,
I think I will freeze.

It's cold, it's cold,
I must get away.
Yet there is no safety,
I'm dead anyway.

by Ricky Silva, June 2013

Sunday, July 7, 2013


Live for the day, die in the sorrow.
Yesterday is gone, maybe no tomorrow.
So much weakness, in the land of the strong.
So much right, where is the wrong?

I opened up my head, and my mind took a stroll.
There is no freedom here, big brother is on patrol.
Always on your feet, prepared for an assault.
If you slip someone grips, and it's your own fucking fault.

Any move you make, could land a knife in your back.
You can't open doors, not even a little crack.
Give someone an inch, and they'll surely want a mile.
What kind of life is it, when a form of weakness is a smile.

People live people die, it all happens here.
I'm here for life, my neighbor only one more year.
How do I live in hell, and show absolutely no fear?
How can I feel so much pain, and never shed a tear?

I can't let it take me, the evil of this place.
My head is high, I face the sky, the sun in my face.
Surrounded by barbwire, it always is a struggle.
To live a normal life, in a barbwire jungle.

Yet I feel the urge to better myself, should I even try?
I did this to myself, why, why, why?
But I won't give up, I will once again be free.
Even if my freedom only comes, in my head mentaly.

by Ricky Silva, may 2013