OZ

Too many prisons and not enough schools Too many weapons and not enough tools Not enough teachers, too many fools But me, I'm from where fights is born I'm from where nights is dawn I'm from the ingredients spit from the sun I formed an allegience with the number one The letter A The beginning of the day The way, the wisdom, the wish, the will The river, the tree, the try, the trek The rub of the neck The ball of the foot The back of the thigh The glimmer of their eye Appeared at what it's intrigued by Tried by what it's believed by I have taken on the likeness of love The harbor of hate The hell of here And the wonder of the whereafter I've discerned the disaster And drank Dom Perignon and armagedd-ion I have drank the sacred ambrosia Housed in the chalice of the rebellion Cherubim, disguised as quarter juices I have died toothless and been reborn 144,000 times I've got 144,000 rhymes for every brain cell But I waste away in a cell.

- Arnold “Poet” Jackson, Oz

-Augustus Hill, OZ

“Those three kids decided to quit because they thought I was yelling too much. They wanted to go swimming or something like that, and they wanted to take you with them. But instead you decided to stay with me in the fields until we were finished and I’ve always wondered, did you stay with me because we’re brothers or did you stay because you thought if you tried to leave I’d beat you up?”

“By turning you in, I’m saving you.”