Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Russell Wardlow

I Wonder…

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What am I?

What, not who, because when things get and got bad, I’m treated more like a what, and not a who.

So, what am I?

A collapsing building, a spiraling/crashing plane, or a sinking ship?

I mean I can hear it how certain people talk or respond to me…

as if I should be so lucky to have their attention since I’m in prison…

or like I’m damaged goods and served better at a distance or no contact at all as if I’m toxic or contagious…

or like they always knew my potential, and now its safe to acknowledge me again now.

But then there’s those few, that never lost sight of me, never lost faith in me, and have always and continue to talk to me like a who.

A who that is still important to them, a who that isn’t reminded of the where I reside or what I did, but the how I’m salvaging the wreck that was me.

Whether a collapsing building, a crashing plane, or a sinking ship..

they’ve stayed around and never abandoned,

believing that one in a million chance of survival was possible and worth the risk in staying around, knowing that it would be alright and better on the other side and honestly, they just wanted front row seats to the process.

Because hearing it second hand, or coming back around Kate just wouldn’t have been as satisfying.

When things go bad, we’re reminded who we are, in the eyes of those we believed believed in us. Those closer than most that we said we loved…

I’m not toxic anymore, but still just in case, to keep yourself safe, do us both a favor and stay at a distance. I have just enough around me, which happened to be the only ones I needed, no one can do it alone.

Shout out to my first responders and first ridiculers, you showed me who, not what, I am, and more importantly, you showed me you, Priceless! Which is good, because coming out of prison I’ll be needing to spend a lot of money that I don’t have yet starting all over, Sheesh! Dodged one!

Prison wisdom: Fuck what they say, watch what they do.

I wonder…

Why is the misery of people or an animal, a source entertainment or income for a branch of societies that would almost seem like puppet masters.

Like a zoo, taking animals outside of their natural habitat for our amusement.

Or what if you threw a steak or a gazelle in a lions den full of hungry lions with a camera, that’d be great right?

Or what about gladiators in Rome?

What about black men in low income areas pitted against each other for limited resources where competition and crude survival instincts are endorsed only to end with their deaths or imprisonment where they fight in that gladiators arena until freed or for a life time…

Are you not Entertained?!

Yea we have a problem.

We’re sick, complaining about the symptoms of our virile system, but love the show and profits!

America, The New Rome

Growing Up Dyfrent

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Growing up is hard enough, battling all the identity issues, acceptance, conformity, individuality, self love and self knowledge all separate from family.

I mean that’s when life starts right?

As soon as you leave the house and those that know you best and that you feel the most comfort with aren’t around, but I never had that consistency of comfort, so needless to say I had many identity issues.

I even grew up being ashamed of my blackness and the darkness of my blackness at times. So I used to deflect and make light skinned jokes with my lighter skinned black homies since being extra chocolate was the center of a lot of jokes, but now I have two light skinned bi-racial sons.

So they have to deal with all that plus find their fit within their own family and culture since their black side, aka me, is predominately nonexistent in their lives.

I don’t know if their mothers understand the significance of that internal struggle, I mean its not easy to understand unless you go through and kids don’t know how to voice every struggle.

They find the answers to those feelings later in life as they grow and mature. I can’t talk with both my sons right now, but I speak with my youngest, and I recently started singing that song, “I’m black and I’m proud” with him, because he lives in a predominately white small town, so I try to remind him of how beautiful he his and how different means special.

So it touched me when he said, “daddy,”

I said what,

he said,

“sing that song”

I said what song?

he said,

“I’m black and I’m proud!”

so we sing it together, say it loud,

I’m black and I’m proud,

say it loud!

I’m black and I’m proud,

baby baby baby,

baby baby baby,

oww!

watch me now!

Then I tell him to do his dance at the end, we also sing my fiance Halsey’s song, “without me”

Music not only heals and transcends communication, but gives identity.

I also learned to not call my sons or bi-racial people, mulatto’s.

It comes from the root word, “mule” because back in the day, it was said that black people and white people were a different species, so if they mated, they would be infertile, like a horse mating with a donkey made a mule, which was infertile, so the term mulatto’s came about…

the things you learn just to become a better parent end up also making you a better person.

We don’t only have kids to teach, but we have kids and become taught.

Being dyferent, makes up for all the difference in the world, and embracing your dyference, makes all the difference in the world!

I hope I succeed teaching my sons to be proud of theirs.

Aye God

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God, I feel like a little boy

the way you pick me up

I pray to you, my favorite ‘pick me up’

I stray from you, but never get enough

I run right back, I feel like I’m in love

I remember you rendered me physically weak

in the midst of your spirit that creep into and entered me, see

I could doubt you no longer

the depth of that break down, rose me up even stronger

can I talk to you about my lifestyle

I’m not the same when the lights out

life is dark and full of waves, and I know you are my lighthouse

but I see my illuminated shame when its bright out

yet you still love me, you never yell, you watch me and believe I will fix it

you have unshakable faith, I want that too but jaded by vision

I can’t see as deep as you can without your holy prescription

though I try, my pride is another sin I’ve committed

judgement is another, I digress, that job is only yours

I share my heart with so many afflictions, but its supposed to be only yours

I try to take back and side entrances, but you’re the only door

the only reason I humbly drop my knees on the floor

And I don’t have to beg, God you already know what I want

but always at the right time you provide just what I need

I want to get out of prison, but I know I’m a service here

I figured that out realizing that prison is a platform, and I can serve you here

God, finally knowing you kinda gets me giddy

realizing there’s much more to life, so excuse me, I gotta get busy!

Prison Life is Hard

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This prison life?

yea, it ain’t easy

believe me

this shit hard

walking dead bodies

on a big yard

with ignorant guards

aiming at my head

I find that

more people here

work to get you

to remember where you are

to act less than you are

but you can’t break down

what can’t be broken

word is bond

and everyday I build on

that at times

I may have to get

aggressive

just for you

to get the message

but without the best

listening tools

what more am I left with?

no one answered

the phone

no mail

no visit

I’m trying my ‘bestest’ shit,

sometimes I feel I barely exist

this prison life is hard

I tell you!

but I won’t show it

though

all I dream about

is an exit.

Limiting Beliefs

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There are so many disciplines, ancient wisdoms and proverbs, teachings, and religions that speak to how much more we can become and aspire to be,

the higher levels of internal manifestations…

Even in the bible, which I may butcher, I believe Jesus said,

“these works I do, you can do, and even greater, with just the faith of a mustard seed”.

So it all comes to what do you believe, and how much do you believe it?

Then, how influential, either to your detriment or benefit, are those beliefs?

Sometimes, with me at least, it starts with simply breaking things down and reconstructing the frame work or meaning of those beliefs and the words associated. How can we aspire to be so much more, when we reflect in the murky puddles of our low moments so much, and aren’t told that we are in fact, better than our BEST moments.

Who says that?

Who consistently implants in you that you can do even better?

No,

we for the most part get told that we need to do that over a long period of time, or made to remember how long ago it was that we did something great.

It seems that reinforcement stops after our childhood.

So lets challenge those beliefs, so you will not only succumb to the vision of being your worst moment, but also that you can aspire to be greater than your best moment, however that looks.

Sometimes we do things that we didn’t know that we had in us, whether good or bad, so isn’t it right to think that even at your best that there is even better that you may not realize?

What more is there to life if we stop learning, aspiring, dreaming, believing, capturing, and evolving?

Growth doesn’t stop.

It may at a physical level, but not an internal-

mental emotional and spiritual level.

You are better than your BEST,

and I’m beyond my worst.

Believe that!

ChasHer

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The way she runs

even from me

is like

she is chased-

either away or to be captured

but I haven’t moved one inch

yet she feels,

I’m on her heels

and somehow

she ends back here

where she began in my open arms and beating heart-

against hers against the world against all

Odds

Even

when she flees I don’t give chase

because I don’t know where it’ll take me

where it’ll take us

and neither does she

running blind

leads to more pain

because there’ll be a harder fall

we can’t brace for getting back up

won’t be as easy as just staying put

I offer her space because she’ll create it anyway

I’ll never understand why she never understood

why come to find out I’m more answer than obstacle of..

Coarse!

but she may be gone for too long

before she figures that out…

sorry, people move on

you weren’t the only one

lonely all along

I stood my ground

waiting

lonely

cold

I needed warmth

and you hadn’t come back yet

but give me the same respect

and don’t chase me

I found someone that stays

go ahead and stay in shape

run while I lay idle

and Warm from Closeness

not Cold

from Your Distance.