Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow
There’s not enough room in the universe for secrets.
If I had my milky way
I’d shoot for the stars
just to kiss you.
Then fall spell bound like a comet
until I’m grounded/
Though if there is no ground for any amount of time
am I falling
or am I flying?!
For what if falling in itself
but a perception.
All a matter of vantage experience and belief I suppose.
Admission is but a validation of an accepted reality
but who cares?
I kissed a star
and fell in love.
Kiss and Tales. 😉
YOU KNOW I RIDE WITH MY BLACK PEOPLE!
Until them ironic times I gotta ride on my black people.
I PICK THE SIDE OF MY BLACK PEOPLE!
until them ironic times I’m picking sides with my black people –
While on a different side with ‘my’ black people/
That’s on a different side from ‘those’ black people.
Too many condition and contradictions with confections of self hate that expose black people.
Prison a race camp, and nobody understands that MORE THAN BLACK PEOPLE.
What changed?
What’s free?
When I stare segregation in the face,
accepting discrimination every day,
with no denials to it being about race,
there’s no such thing as color blind, picking a color is the only way.
Truth sees between the lines
peer thru your batted lashes.
You’ll see the world in pieces.
Color Coded Conditions.
May lie in my bed
scrolling thru lies in my head.
Should I deny or confess?
Or try and finesse?
When I reply
because eyeing your texts
is like pie in the sky I try to ingest.
I digress.
My life is a…
I shouldn’t try –
Adding my time to your chest
putting your heart beat under duress.
I rather be wise keeping my ‘why’s’ to my chest.
Suppressed.
Darkening this truth from the light it reflects.
I think I know why we connect.
You’re so much more, yet you know act its like being less.
Suddent truths may produce a rise in our stress.
Surprised how you rise despite
when most would fall to their demise,
from life’s bitter tests.
Purpose is perfect timing at best,
but forget time, to most, it’s just confining I bet.
Therefore, meeting you, I’ll just describe it as blessed.
Here’s to, poetic descriptions.
If, Rose Is your blush, then Violet your dress.
Now may I have this dance as I figure out how to confess.
Home is where the heart is.
His is now gentrified.
he now enters his mind
all the time.
All this time
he’s been inside
he’s been Ben inside
Been frank-
with everyone he knows
Been 100.
How he’s been described
he’s been disguised.
Therefore, falsely identified
misinterpretations tint his eyes.
Fires dream to fly.
Fire in his eyes.
Hell bent to rise.
He’s meant to fly.
Despite the size of critics
he defies being defined and criticized.
He doesn’t play the victim.
Athough, his position tends to victimize
Believing he’s too special to be generalized.
Home is where he’ll sympathize.
Heart is what he’ll symbolize.
Hello?..
I don’t need a lecture
just for the record
I’m more than my record
just give me a second
I haven’t ate breakfast
you know how it is when you waking up out of sleep
straight from the Odyssey
that we call dreams
but that shit reality
its 2 already?
I need a few calories
u say I’m waking up late feeling bad for myself
so I need a wake up call from someone else
u say that u feel me and here for my help
who says I need help
put those projections on somebody else
I can do bad, all by myself
matter of fact I’m already, all by myself
I’m pushing of coarse, cuz I need some space
I don’t need your perceptions all in my face
I called you ok
but you all on my case
damn right I hold grudges
cuz this feel like judgment
u say u ain’t judging
but what is it when its one thing or the other I get it…
I know u say u see more in me ?
I’m snoring, u boring me
life packed some c4 in me
I may blow up at any second,
while this phone recording me
I don’t care if they hearing me,
I don’t care bout their orders cuz I am no orderly
I am still borderline, as long as those fences still border me
so just for the record I’m more than my record
I’m raw I’m a rebel and wretched
my life is a wreckage
I don’t get no rest or no respite
its hectic
I betcha it doesn’t get better
revel yet wrestle with messes
I won’t leave a message
hold up wait a second…
this sounds a lot like my record
you was right save the lecture.
Life-
Came onto me
and said
do you want to live?
I said
No
Death-
Ran into me
and asked
do you want to die?
I said,
no.
I’m stuck in this in between.
Indecisive I guess.
I live in denial
and die to rejection.
I’m inside of confusion
alluding to this illusion
created disillusions
What I see, isn’t real
What I feel, I can’t see
What I say, I don’t mean
What I mean, is a lie.
A lie more realer than I
balancing the thinnest of lines
of how to live when we die
I hate picking sides.
It’s just a matter of eyes
having yet to open mine
to the day and it’s night
to the dark and it’s light
still stuck inside of a mine
my mind
don’t mind me?
Pay me no mind
I don’t exist.