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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Reborn King (Spoken Word)

September 27, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

and you are a newborn prince
or
a reborn king
and you have to pay the price
for generations before you
after you
and for your inherent state of being
a being in which humanity has become enemy
a being in which families are divided by cases pending
a being
which has been careened
by many seen and unforeseen
evil plots dreams and schemes
all that deem
you to limit your dreams
all that deem
for you to be blinded by material means
all that deem
to incarcerate oppress and marginalize your genes
all that deem
you to be in between the seams
or beneath
obscured from view
instead of the adornments of
crowns and wreathes
roses thrown at your feet
but in this new world, you tie on cleats
going to battle with predisposed defeat
and the breech
of being placed as least
and onto a leash
restricting the neck
the more it breaths
you can’t breath
the more it drinks
it leaks
the more it speaks
it squeaks
but you don’t squeal!
though battered by speech
bittering your speech
hindering your reach
disfiguring your peak
dismembering your feats
rendering you, bleak
rinse cycle on repeat
you’ve mourned your peace
they’ve torn you piece
by piece, scorned as weak
and still you reap!
and still you wreak!
havoc!
and the pungent odor of resilience
embrace your stink
but hold your head high above your sink
look right into that mirror
mirror, image of self, image
mirror, an answer to questions
mirror, reflection of deceptions
mirror, conception of inception
mirror, absorption of illusion
mirror, destiny of direction
mirror, digestion of message
message of vantage
vantage of anguish
anguish abandoned
inside all of your damage..

despite it you manage
you fight disadvantage
you fight for revival
you fought for disciples

you fight for your life stillllll
you fight thru the lies stilllll
you don’t have your eyes sealed
you don’t need no blindfold

you already know how time goes

damn, where the time go
you was just a Tyco
but now you a psycho
its part of the vicious, cycle
no pardon for rights that all fight to indict you
I said, no pardon for rights that all fight to indict you
you still keep your eyes glued
you can’t afford for opportunities to fly by you
because they are rarely ever, right by you
with a good girl by your side down to ride right beside you
embracing the waves of life’s tidals
as hope and defeat outline and spike your vitals
coping through trials and pill vials
projectile bile across floor tiles
as pride was piled
inside of your stomach track, where it remained idle
because life is baptism by fire
and your skin is the explosive proof
so you have inherited every struggle possible
so when you are ready, there can be nothing that keeps you
from propelling higher
because your imagination and will won’t tire
though your tires won’t stop rolling
because you were born
a reborn king

Filed Under: Mercy, Spirit

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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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