I’m not a religious cynic, I’m just a religion critic
my beliefs first, I believe in a just god that loves and forgives me with divine justice as long as I am truly repented
but let me get back to my point for a minute
now I’m not scorning everyone who identifies with a religion or those whom are religious
because it’s just some not all that uses divine wisdoms
as cultural, gender-biased, and societal prisons
and for their greater good it blinds many of its citizens
some just follow unquestioningly Orthodox values and are truly innocent
but all sects and teachings speak a unified notion that all humans are flawed, so we can’t be that naïve that some orthodoxies come without agendas
hmm, women, let’s say for instance
at one point in time the were heralded as equals to men and reigned in matriarchy and other high positions
there is a reason I’m getting to, just let me finish my sentence
influence became synonymous with conquerors of the times spoils of war necessitated a common interdependence
men were on a mission to conquer and rename all within their image
and that came at the generational cost of a woman’s position and opinion becoming one mainly of catching up, silence, and submission
Man and Woman, of equal parts, yet a symbolism of division or sexual tension
now we’re on track, this is what I really wanted to mention
name a part of a man that is a matter of law or in need of permission controlled by a government, religion, or societal vision
outside of, of course, his circumcision
I’ll give you a minute…
I have a mother, a sister, a bestfriend, maybe a daughter one day and a woman that I will love one day
and they’ve been controlled and marginalized enough and I rather they only concede to God or fate
not by androcentric men heading each state
fighting to outlaw Roe V Wade
let me get of rhyme for a moment…
how can a woman’s choice and body be controlled by patriarchic religions and governments?
how can’t she be handled with the dignity respect love and care that is needed in her bearing that biological responsibility of bringing forth life?
shouldn’t life be cared enough about as to not just be thrusted into this wayward world without the necessary preparation and readiness?
what about her physical and mental state, the situation and cause? all of this matters, only she should be able to make that call.
after all she has to live with it
its her life that becomes limited
its her body that stretches and may wear
because during and after carry a child that society laws have may have made her bear
this is just another ploy to keep women out of the workforce and from gaining ground in society
if you pay attention, most men’s worst fear is a woman’s notoriety
obviously I agree to a certain degree in regards to tri-mester
but let someone I love be raped, taken advantage of, abandoned, or molested
and the world turns their back and the country she lives in won’t protect her
I know first hand- because I’ve been on the worst end- with a girlfriend- with a forced hand- to abort then- because not having a black baby in their family to her parents was more important- than the life of another person- even though we both weren’t ready to take care of a life together
I hated it, but even in retrospect, that was their families mutual consented decision
freedom comes in free choice, not choice with provisions
we’ve all played apart in silencing our women
even some women have done so, doing of coarse unknowingly, in order to distinguish themselves and gain position
us men must speak up against this gender based inquisition
which is playing out politically with the supreme court confirmation of Judge Kavanaugh in front of the senate on our television
this may not affect you now but it may in the distance, so it must be championed as a human cause, not political gain or loss because of religious laws, and make this mission.. more than just another submissive penetrative position
Politicized
“Politicized”
everyone hates politics
so I hear
I flee debates and turn on the TV and still, there are politics
so I see
sports entertainment attire news and social lives politicized
so it feels
if I could taste politics
it’d probably taste like the water in Flint, Michigan or maybe French fries being called Freedom fries
if I could smell politics
maybe it’d be the smell of rain in Autumn or the smog and chemical emissions into our changing atmosphere and climate while arguing global warming contemplating how clean the air I breath really is
If I could become a part of politics
I’d stay exactly where I am, in prison, because money sets values to life and always becomes the bottomline
if I could name my child a truth of politics
his or her name would be left or right, or, right or wrong, because it seems there is no moral standard for compromise or neutral ground
“One moment at a time”
He turns the nozzles to the right until the just drips are visible
as the last traces of dirt and soap cascade down his body and travels down the deep black orifice in floor…
his thoughts trail off for a moment
feeling in sync with that deep dark tunneling unknown
in a way, he identifies internal…maybe even externally
pulling back the shower curtain slightly, then reaching for his towel
he starts the same process
drying his head
the towel is brought over his face
he closes his eyes, breaths deeply, and meditates for 20seconds
he is gone, lost to his world of internalization
a periodic escape
collecting his wits and gathering his senses
he reflects over his whole day up until that point in a rapid flash of mental pictures sequencing behind his eyelids
satisfied with the information gathered
again he breaths in deeply, and then exhales
rallying his strength courage and reserve
because this process symbolizes a start over
yet the repeating of this continual depravities’ reality
he then chants ritualistically “here we go again”
and with that, the towel coats the rest of his body
his eyes open
his ears are aware to the familiar sounds of running water and loud banter
he is back…
unfortunately
he we go again, as he leaves the shower in shorts sandals and no shirt wearing that renewed strength confidence comfort and pride buffed and sculpted from his jaw to his waistline
just enough water left on his body for its stainless and glistening effect
seemingly unphased by his environment
he has started back over
one moment at a time
“Segregation”
alone within the darkest hollow he retreated
darkness enveloped his now
inside and out, his light likened to coal
while blinds draping the windows of his soul, shut tight
there, dawned a blacker abyss
a decrepit contrast littering this deathly fog
imagination, colored as a gothic reflection of deep cave dwellings absent glow from distant moon and stars
sound as black as the upside down bodies of winged shadows
their screeches invading his senses
everything there-
as he remembered, yet not
only aware of self-
rewarded by that privileged knowledge
since he has stood stranger to company far too long
ignorant his place and fit
gestures and mannerisms foreign
etiquette and norms alien
gab and humor absent
the conjured echoes-haunting
a mystifying black ambiance he embraces
swallowing his last bit of resistance
his taste-a dried out well
he smells the void
touches nothing
and feels it all
best friend to loneliness
kin to darkness
married to space
he finds life and now thrives in the hole
harmony within his new habitat
“Process”
life is a process
food gets processed
inventory gets processed
information gets processed
memories love and scorn are a process
everything is a process, then it gets processed
am I person or process?
my mistakes were a process-
leading me straight into prison…after getting processed
“wonder why?”
My heart is my handicap
I have loyalties of principal and heart, but not of deep rooted emotion
so its easy for me to be misled or sensationalize moments
I guess that makes me human right?
I’m aware of this contortion within myself, but not many are
now, if you may wonder why many people become pulled in and a part of their environment
not rising above individually, for the worse or better
look at life look at relationships look at politics…look at prison
I was down
I was down like left over ingredients in a cup
I am part heathen, it was hard for me to believe in me going up
It was hard for me to see, I was seasoned but the seasons had me seeking the easiest way of coming up
hoping my culture would coast and coach me, another hidden way of me coping instead of opening up
trying to be grown, my youth was a bad ode, and I wasn’t old enough
maybe faith in something would help me grow, mold me and hold me up
Instead of the spots I was holding up
hold up!
systematic symptoms
from diagnoses full of isms
spewing venom and criticism
my vision was indigent
ordaining a preeminence ending with me in prison
living thru so much tension
as a fostered kid spending stints in detention
dissention, division, split decisions- mistakes versus intention
both perforating my core-this thin line dividing my external impersonations hiding in plain sight, perpetually perpetrating
my lips pursed, disguising my reserve being purged and permeated
living in the middle of a pendulum-
life and worth, and to calm my nerves, I was overprescribed Ritalin
too hyper was just a synonym
but for a troubled child, pilled vials, became an emblem
of too many symptoms
I was a young victim, but forget your criticism…or is something wrong with me!?! Love was missing…
More soul serpent than person
I never searched for purpose
forced in church, but I lurked behind curtains
because I was too hurt to surface
I don’t speak of deserve
my reason is because I lean towards the words that speak of my worst
my good evaporated by how fast my bad gets dispersed
I irk for and worship relationships
because too long I felt alone, and as purposeless as an atheist
forgive me, I didn’t know how to pray
my repayment is painted in pain with these pages
I stray like a pagan
I cannot be patient
I’m sick like a patient
I’m rough and I’m down and I’m beat under feet, understand I am pavement!
all I feel is side effects
I see and do, a blind follower like Simon says
I gotta big head with a giant neck
so I can balance and keep the weight of my pride in check
all I feel is side effects
all I feel is side effects
but maybe sippin this last bit of residue,
of pride in the bottom of my cup will do
if I start living instead of worrying about being uncomfortable
everything doesn’t resolve or dissolve easy, no matter how hard you try to mix the ingredients, you just need to be gritty and greedy, and tilt up
the last bit of resistance in your cup
Ignorance, not Bliss
A c.o. asked if I were racist
surprised by the question’s basis
because it was the title of a book she read without flipping thru the pages
isn’t that a cliché…
but this is the same narrow minded perceptions our society has created
what?…
would she prefer my seeking of knowledge be nameless or faceless
or was it because the end result of what I seek started and ended with black faces
what is depth, when the inside is hidden to the uncaring consumer absorbing a calzone
so which part of the title was the threat? The conditions that face black people in America, or the valley of dry bones?
we all know that answer…
How could I speak on a subject in which in her 50 plus years it hasn’t even been relevant?
How can I speak of color, skin, the science of melanin, only as difference not as supremacy, if her history, cascades its skeletons?
She only seemed to understand the fact of me having close white friends, well I guess it really was a surprise
How can I give in and make allowances for the cliché, ‘ignorance is bliss’ while willful ignorance is just as incendiary to our society’s demise?
How can she believe that everyone experiences life the same, how can she be that blind?
Then I realized…
She only knows what’s been shown, whether conscious or unconsciously learning to deny and downplay
Maybe she doesn’t know that black is more than a color
Though color is not identity
Black is enshrined deeply with culture
Though most, of it has turned ghost, from being poached, since arriving on the Virginia coast, by boat, and the ensuing reconditioning played culprit
Maybe I should’ve told her
How black has become a stereotypical synonym posted
as loud and boastful
Materialistic, objectifying, absent fathers, promiscuous big booty crazy women, ignorant sagging slang talkin rappers, criminals, drug dealing abusive illiterate fast running, high jumping, angry gang banging wild yet lazy monkeys, the engineers of an inciting riotous hip hop cult, not culture!
but if that’s true, then despite the lack of reparations, and every movement and economic progression stunted, by governmental forceful tactics and Willie lynch syndrome inhabited, what you deem problematic, I call it coping
and religiously hoping
though this cult like culture, has been stolen and resold for exposure
I could’ve explained in depth our resilience, strength and accomplishments, but in all honesty her response may provoke me
to a black child, which the world doesn’t know, seeming to have given him a cold shoulder
his dreams look no further than a poster and apolster
disbelieving of making it to be an adult, let alone not understanding the point in cementing his vote/and inhabiting the mind of becoming a broker
he may chase solicited fame, designed to saturate his brain, which in the end will make him broker
this isn’t a word, but he wouldn’t know it
a rapper is just a misunderstood urban poet
that dreams to swallow pride enshrined in Moet
to numb the pain of facing a society that doesn’t understand him and a legal system he shadow boxes with as if an opponent
which preys on his lack of understanding and color, poaching-waiting to pounce on his worst moment
the problem is, I could’ve explained it all, and just as I tried
I realized I was talking to a door by the look in her eyes
It’s sad the unknowing narratives that rule our lives
clichés are shrugged off as a collective of agreeable and undebated truths, but the real truth is that saying, “ignorance is bliss” is just another ignored lie
Dear Josiah
Dear Josiah,
This will be a first of many letters I write. Truth is, I’ve always thought of writing a book of letters to you, and even recently my best friend, who is your Aunt Katie, advised me to write letters to you and send them to her and she’d keep them until you were ready to read them. So years ago and recently I’ve tried, it’s no great excuse but I’d get too emotional somehow, and my hand would tighten and start shaking. I couldn’t write a sentence! Here is where technology plays in, I guess it’s easier to type away, ironically the thing that keeps people at distance is what I’m using to hopefully bring you close again. Even now it’s hard, I finally got pictures of you after all these years…and my head screamed the same thing yours would if you saw me…”Who are you?!” I last remember a baby I used to feed, change, nap and shower with, a baby I watched born at 8lbs 5.8oz (which is incredible on my part because your father is hardcore yet squeamish) and now you are tall and grown, taking selfies in the mirror looking every bit like your mom. I can’t even see myself in you, I don’t know if it’s shame or guilt that blinds me and refuses to let me see myself in you. After all, it’s been your mother that’s been there the whole time. I lost myself and flew down the drain quickly after her and I split, I didn’t deal with my hurt well and it made me into a bad guy for awhile. You are my greatest regret from my greatest moment once upon a time at your birth. I want to tell you how much I love you, but what would that mean to you right now? I want to tell you that I am really a good man although I admitted that I became bad at one time, but how can you even fathom any good? I heard a quote and I asked the question with a twist, “if a man can become a monster, can that monster become a man again?” For so long I couldn’t see how or believe it, but often we are our own worst enemy and critic. I want to say that you got your athleticism and intellect from me, but you wouldn’t know that either? I see your mother’s smile, that smile that use to drive me crazy. How do I say when, where and why things went wrong? I can say it’s my fault. But what would sorry mean to you if you have a whole life without my presence, you don’t even know if you really are missing anything. I will say that there is so much to say, and this is the start of a series. I’m going to open up and tell you everything about me and my every mistake, your mom was perfect, and as for the blame, I will bear, without regret, on my shoulders…your dad is beasty strong too. What I will tell you is that you have a younger brother that doesn’t know about you yet, but one day when the timing is right, (I wish that was now because I shouldn’t be another reason for anything withheld in your life). He’s a ball of fire, and I know he’d look up to you because the young man I’ve heard about is nothing short of amazing. Baseball is all you, I never played it but your little brother Treyvan just started. He is 6. What I will tell you is I have fought to become a better man and I will succeed because you deserve a great father once I am able to come back into your life. I feel I don’t deserve a chance, but I will fight in every way that you can’t see now, but that will manifest one day within you. I won’t just be a father that’s been to prison, I will be a great example, a patient, humble, encouraging and loving father able to provide from doing what I love, because no matter the mistake, if you believe, and have the right people in your corner, you can do anything. So with that said, you have an Aunt to meet that has been in my corner and helped me want more and see myself beyond my past and as she knew me to be. But that’s in another chapter. I’m not a traditional type of person, I write as I feel although I’m organized, so I hope you take this rollercoaster ride with me. I’m tough but I’m a sucker for a love story, so I got this idea from the notebook. You are the love that I hope against all odds comes back to me one day, if not for love right away, then for answers. Finally…I can breathe, though my chest is tight and I may still tear up looking at your pics. I could go on but I’m going to restrain myself and do this step by step. I’ve given you one goodbye that lasted so many years, but never again, I will say goodbye many times because I’ll be coming right back many more. Goodbye Josiah, I love you
Sincerely,
Your Father
Russell H. Wardlow
p.s. I hope you don’t mind if I share my letters to you, it’s how I heal and stay open and honest. I’ve hid long enough, truth is for the light son.
M- Power
We need to help bring fourth more trailblazing feminist like Supreme court Judge Ruth Bader Ginsburg..she will either be a spark that stood amongst flames, being seen only in the moments she needed to for the greater good of women, decenting her opinions without worry of her all male colleagues, bringing fourth new laws. Equality as it is, and the women, as far as cultural economical political and societal advancement, for the most part in this millennium, have all, either knowingly or unknowingly, profited from her Consistent staunch and brave stances. So women, help your sisters, see themselves as equals and worthy, don’t compete and thwart each other, fighting for identity under a mans arm or workforce. Men, empower and praise women as the queens of life wisdom and emotional intellect that they are, don’t just them as jewels to wear and own, but polish them as priceless relics. In the words of the late Aretha Franklin,
“R E S P E C T” this is not a mans world, its a world of people, don’t lose that important common ground. Not color, not sex, not belief hierarchy, but a human kind. No one above all, but all above one, lifting each other up. I’m not against religion nor religious people, but just like in politics, but some not all people, who hold power over our institutions and messages aren’t always the best fit, and those dynamics cause suffering for so many. Mankind power is empower is M-power.