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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Prison is for the Birds

December 16, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

We often say prison is for the birds

just some shit I’d say cuz I heard it but I never really knew what it meant

Like a lot of language, we get the point.

It’s repeated a lot so we got the context

but we can’t really explain or define the meaning

til I noticed that I always see birds

flying around and landing.

There’s a lot of convicts that love taking bread out the kitchen

instead of filling themselves, they feed the birds

throwing it on the ground

its against the rules

but there’s something peaceful freeing and almost manifest within doing an act that triggers

gracious survival behaviors

no thank u needed nor would even be expected

because that would be crazy,

but just a grace acquiesced to the gesture,

almost gives you a hint of value and purpose,

however unglorious, it was a sacred individual exchange

a moment had

and even if only for a moment inside this darkness, that was a glint of light

watching you give life to a free bird while you lose life to a prison

these birds aren’t like any other, somehow they don’t really fly away when we get close…

like umm, hello? ima danger to society! why ain’t u running?!

They don’t see us as that, they just see us..

and see truly we mean them no harm.

We’re both just trying to get by

so we walk along and amongst them

them choosing to skip instead of fly

if only we had that option, what could contain us physically

but its our physical hangups that keeps our mind and spirits locked up

if only we could transcend that reality of being so surface

I start to wonder, as they fly freely, soaring above and beyond us

Do they even realize that we’re trapped?

Are we the zoo creatures that they visit and pet with their presence?

Birds can just come and go

ahha! ok that’s what it means

since birds can come and go with no care and get fed freely, then prison is for people that have no meaning

no care nor desire to do or be different, this is just another part of their existence, of their survival-

it’s unthought and autonomous

There’s an ignorant necessity to it

as if there’s nothing more but status quo-

no hope, no chance, no relevance

that rings a bell

I say often it took prison to contemplate my former imprisonments

prison is the by product or conclusion of a life being imprisoned in either my thoughts, words, actions and spirit

now I crave true and authentic freedom

not the illusion of it inside the razored gates of conformity, hiding from judgement

cuz that’s all prison is anyway, conformity after judgement

I was hiding out there in my supposed freedom, and ended up manifesting the very thing I was running from

how often do we run to the very things we run from

in some form at least

fear is fluid, its ever changing and limits choices

but love is a choosing of freedom

freedom is in facing yourself and discovering that truth no matter how it may be perceived by others,

though it MUST be received by you otherwise you’re just in another form of prison-

procrastinating the inevitable selfishness, selfconsciousness, self righteousness, being self absorbed are all self imposed prisons

freedom is in love above, beyond, and within all things, even the things you don’t understand and which scare you

fearing what we don’t know is just as common as believing we know all there is to know, or what’s relevant to us anyways…

like there’s nothing else but whats already popularly acknowledged

freedom is in Choice

not coerced but Choice that reflects who you are

I can choose to live in the prison of titles and the perceptual taboos biases preferences stereotypes and judgments that follow-

like being a young black felon, inmate and absent father of two

or I can create my own narrative freely

to live comfortably and stand confidently, even boldly in my own truth, not the script that’s pre-written for me

and whatever predisposed symptoms I’m told I may be ailing from

that’s how powerful choice and freedom is

because somehow the decisions of another can still measure the impact and believed actions of mine that will follow suit…

statistics I guess

but I can still choose different, but where does that fit into the equation?

see now saying this, if you were being truthful with yourself, how many people do you know that are in prison but aren’t felons?

are you one of them?

I’ve fallen victim to prisons imposed on me that I wasn’t properly conscious of and my reaction? well I decided to be a victimizer of those situations-environments conditions and those ‘sir, come stand’ circumstances-

instead of victim to them

yea yea, I know its paradoxical to hear of a felon and inmate being a victim but truthfully-

we all are until we decide to be free

and freedom is always a choice

here’s an example of that here in prison

my homies start everyday off and even thru out the day because freedom and its choices must remain consistent, with scrutinizing each others every decision before the choices are made, even with trivial things like making a phone call or as major as physical conflict, with these questions

what are you trying to get out of this?

what are you willing to give for it?

what are you willing to settle for?

and if you fall short, and come ‘this’ close of that goal, what are you willing to lose to get there? see? choice is so powerful

because the thought behind it is equally powerful

and deep within we all embody that power and we’re ALL so powerful

even more so once we recognize it instead of reasoning with it in a way that succeeds in nothing but limiting its potential

and freedom, is a declaration of that power

though freedom ain’t cheap, at least it’s still free

so prison is for the birds.

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Mercy, Trauma

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Prose of a Con

Prose of a Con is a collection of Russell Wardlow’s prose and poetry written entirely behind bars. Through writings on family, spirituality, freedom, love, justice, redemption, and vulnerability, Russell seeks to show the humanity and hope of individuals like himself who are incarcerated.

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