• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer

Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

  • Home
  • About
  • Prose
    • Culture
    • Inside
    • Love
    • Mercy
    • Spirit
    • Trauma
  • Listen
  • News
  • Connect
  • Support

The Angels and I We made Promise Rings out of Halos

February 23, 2022 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I rose up.
married to my destiny
I counted the blessings of my success’ dreaded predecessors
then forgave myself for good measure
opposition became opportunity
pain never felt so good
each obstacle boosted my immunity
and differentiation revealed layered expressions of Divine Unity
I now see, you and me
You, in Me
beautiful luminary
reflecting with rue the hues of my once impotent rudimentary views
my former lunacy cartooned the fool in me
reminiscing lucid spoofs
where I’d seek mental acuity as proof
loops of intellectualizing ancient wisdoms,
going through hoops of over rationalizing absolute truths
chastising my family feuds
when big brother logic is bemused
when I attempt to fuze
him to his sister, insight
and the middle-child intellect
to the baby, intuition
like a pair of Siamese siblings quibbling
my left hemisphere compensating as if it was always right,
truly only fooling me
the ego will grant illusions or allure and lore
with the guised con of consciousness
but resorts back to conformed common sense
whenever posed against something which makes no kind of sense
the problem is
the mental can only perceive from the common sense
limited to 5, pleading the fifth
cautiously acknowledging any lift from the kingdom of the 6th
devotion to the abstractions
promises less distraction with more detachment
yet appearing like madness
to the “don’t get mad get ‘glad wrap'” hypocritical fanatics-
overly peering peers
whom veer or loom near
provoking and volunteering jeers
and insults you hold dear
as souvenirs,
because to most
life is only lived and known at its lowest tier
you’re reminded there’s more than what meets the mirror
but not to a mere human being a mere human of fear
and there’s a lesson there
my new loyalty has oiled me in the soil
coiling my soul in the folds of a lotus
and I open up animated by the light of Sun as a true royal
walking upon my manifestations like Michael Jackson Moonwalking
that light within,
showed me the shadow of my skin
and to walk in the light of dark
is to live, and as long as you exist, you’ll never blend

Filed Under: Mercy, Trauma

Reader Interactions

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Primary Sidebar

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.

Read More

  • Whose Mind is it Anyway June 30, 2022
  • Objects June 30, 2022
  • Same Thang, Different Name June 30, 2022
  • Optical Ill-lusions June 30, 2022
  • Hollow Symbols June 30, 2022

Themes

  • Culture
  • Inside
  • Love
  • Mercy
  • Spirit
  • Trauma
  • Uncategorized

Footer

Prose of a Con

Prose of a Con is sponsored by giveabeat.org

  • Instagram

Navigation

  • Home
  • About
  • Prose
  • Listen
  • News
  • Connect
  • Support

Themes

  • Culture
  • Inside
  • Love
  • Mercy
  • Spirit
  • Trauma
  • Uncategorized

Prose of a Con © 2023 · web design by Studio Lyko