Why did I beat you down with my words
with my swears and every curse
and every course
we traversed
until your curls, turned coarse
of course-
you’ve seen my worst
you’ve been the words
that I’d disperse
thwarting my hurt
I loved you first
I loved you for
your form and force
I hate you for
the roads you forked
my hearts a fort
It’s not your fault
You’ve broke my falls
I made you fall
I named your flaws
you gave your all
you gave me cause
I gave you scars
you answered calls
wrote me letters
hoped for better
to hold together
betrayal, I betrayed you
because I’m frail
despite my portrayal
my shell is hell
I’m sorry I failed
those 4 letters spelled ….
PROS’dCON-science
What is it called when you search and search for something or maybe you’ve ran from it unknowingly but ultimately it was your end goal? The face of your biggest hope, the glow of your highest achievement, never knowing how to reach that feat, because everything you tried was wrong, so you feared the attempt. Somehow you gravitated further and further away while still grabbing at its air, masked as dreams. So what is it called when you finally get there, or at least close? When it becomes a real possibility, no more a wish fantasy or figment of imagination. What is that feeling you feel, that intense ray of light inside you, the invisible puppeteer pulling at the corners of your mouth, that enchanting anticipation when work becomes worth and a win. Though a slight nervous twitch wades the crevices of this hypnotic reverie because you are now aware of having something to lose again, after knowing so intimately what the plummet of loss feels and looks like…those abyss like caverns of emptiness. But who cares, because you are almost there, you can sense it, but patience isn’t lost upon your euphoric state, you know to be mindful and enjoy the process, to sympathize with its ebbs and flows. Is this why capture after pursuit feels so glorious? Is this the prized feeling of delayed vs instant gratification? Why is it that the wait builds the quality of the things we journey for and seek? Is it suspense, a building anticipatory momentum of promised possession worked for along with sacrifices endured? The cliché notion of ‘first times’ take on new meanings when lost times are attached, along with the dynamic contrasts of losing and leaving that love you lost…until ‘this’ feeling. This feeling…beyond all the descriptive reasoning, I understand it now, everything doesn’t have a certain sense to be made, some sense lies outside the paradigm of an explainable accepted norm..so I get it, this feeling garners envy, it’s what we all seek, not always clear-being the phantom we all chase. It’s not just an answer, but an understanding of something greater than self…this feeling is PURPOSE!!!
Six letters-the last two sound refreshingly like a dragged out exhale, ‘ahhhh’ (sigh or yell) either way feels good 😉
Don’t trust me
observe me
trust your eyes
SuProsd2B-A-Con – Coming on too strong?
Ok, who made this rule of coming on too strong? I mean, I know there is a limit, but why should a person suppress how they really feel, or what they really believe and/or want? If love at first sight isn’t taboo, how then is coming on too strong? I don’t understand, we rather people lie to us and hear their truth on a later date when it better suits you? Who sets these paradigms of required time before this or that? No, No Con-that! I feel that genuine and unapologetically raw honesty, with of course a conscious reverence of the other persons feelings in terms of respect, is more real than some quietly accepted social etiquette of denying emotions. Passion, in some views, has been tarnished and dismissed as being too much too fast. I whether wear you down with my truth so you come along to accept it, then to wait later on shaky waters wondering if the full me is enough or too much. If you leave early, then you’d have left eventually, because why would I want to entertain anyone that couldn’t fully appreciate and accept me? This may come as no surprise, but I’ve scared away my share of people, but I was just shown faster their staying power, and see the real people in my life. I am able to cherish them all more and separate the shallow surface serpents. So being yourself really has no drawbacks, you just find out the truth faster than normal. I prefer to live fast-paced anyway, chance makes champions! I wear me on one sleeve and my heart on the other.
Prose of a CON-fession:
Honesty isn’t the easiest policy when leaping out alone with no certainty of how it’ll be received. I feel I’ve been the up most honest about my past; I’ve worn it thick on one sleeve, with my heart beating on the other, but today it seems I may have left some things out. I had my first son May 12th, 2009 with the love of my life at that point. We were both young and knew nothing about love, and me, I was battling so many scars of my past that I hid because of my shame of what I went through and had seen growing up. Instead of deal with it, I covered it in my relationships, wanting to love and be loved, to have my own family. But my past horrors and fears surfaced in my own life because what I ran from, I soon became. I cheated. I lied. I screamed. I cursed. I called names. I kept score. I emotionally battered, physically intimidated and abused and mentally manipulated people. One of those people, my son Josiah’s mom. No, we both didn’t handle things well together, as people, parents and adults, but as a man, I hold most of that responsibility. I think time and time again of the moments I could’ve salvaged our family, but I didn’t. My son became apart of that mayhem with us living under the same roof. I try to tell myself I never hurt him but the truth is, I did, I hurt his mother, I broke our family, I didn’t fix what became unrepairable. How do you measure hurt on kids? Scars, I still deal with mine and I’m damn near 30! So in retrospect, him observing my behavior affected him in some way that I refused to acknowledge then until now. I also neglected him by waiting so long to try to reconcile the differences between me and his mother Brittney, believing time heals wounds, but it never healed mine. The things we tell ourselves to avoid facing ourselves, Nah I was just being a coward, afraid and ashamed. I’m sure many men go through these battles that keep them from reconciling issues, wanting to blame the other half as having some culpability, but it’s just deflection. Emotions seemed so weak. I wanted to portray strength, as many men do, but that bullshit show of testosterone is as pointless as women taking estrogen pills. I just might maybe have that opportunity to reconcile with her in some way, and I will be talking to her for the first time in so many years. I’m scared I admit, even ashamed to admit how long it’s been, another omission because I know it reflects on how long I’ve been away from my son. And all I want is what she is willing to give, no more, even if just pictures, I will Not try to speak of what I want, I’m OK with time and the process, but I admire her strength in being big enough to want to talk to me after all I put her through. I tried to keep from mentioning my son’s name for privacy, respect and mostly shame on the part of my first son. A result of this has made it seem like I love one more than the other or don’t care. How do you walk the line of respect and fear while trying to use your words as a platform for an emotional and truth outlet that may inspire others, but still withholding? I guess the problem was that if I have to question whether to withhold, then I have to confess more and stay genuine. It’s scary, I paint myself as a monster but I hope to be seen as any thing than, an inspiration for at least one person to heal and find strength in my story. I’m still learning, bear with me…I thought surviving wars and riots in prison was my toughest battle, but it’s really this…this moment I become more of a man, learning the lessons of a flawed absent father, and humbling myself knowing that my first great love has gone through more because of me, instead of me shielding him. Humble…that’s the word, when no extra words need to surface from the depths of fear, because fear clouds truth and reality. So, today I take my biggest leap and I’m ready to be beat down and disappointed, because it’s not about me, that’s what us parents get wrong, it’s never about us, it’s about our kids, so we shouldn’t hide our agendas, fears and pains inside of our children. Just as I still have questions for my mom, he will one day have questions for me. I’m sorry again Brittney, I’m sorry Josiah Henry-James Wardlow, I love you, and I’m a better man now, than that you ever knew. I can’t wait until I get that chance to love you the right way and be your dad that not only gave you half your genes but all your good looks, 😉 (Joking, your mom is gorgeous)..day-by-day.
I’m sorry if I ruined my image to anyone that reads this, but all truth isn’t glamour, and I started out not so pretty myself. But this is about making positives out of negative, beauty behind ugly, something deeper beyond makeup. It’s not easy, but Life, Forgiveness, Healing, Learning, Growing and Love, are all a process, and that’s the worth- Trust the Process and endure the setbacks and pains along the way. If you know any men hiding/hurting/healing the same way I used to…now you know. Women, men will never be as strong as you are, recognize that and communicate because we Never do like we should until a whole disaster lies at our feet. Face it, that’s real bravery, because running from emotions creates darkness and leaves you blind to the desolation in your wake, but running to them is a light that hurts your eyes, you may squint and hold up an arm, but at least you can see where each foot lands in your path, choice becomes clear. This or that way. No cul-de-sacs. No U-turns. Just sharp lefts and rights, because every direction but back, is straight ahead.
I tried.
No really,
I tried.
To avoid the truth
Run, or not run from you
Leaving black rose petals plucked in my wake
Sunshades
Tinting acknowledgement from suns rays
Instead of light I became, my son’s shade
Truth became gravity
Lies became hollow
Soil became regret
Not enough soil in my hollowed ground to feel the effects of my mess
Until gravity humbled me down to knees-now rooted, face soaking wet
The tears of a man blossoming to face his Black Rose flower beds.
SuProsd2B-A-Con- women are mutants
OK, time us men admit that women are mutants! I’m educating myself in prison because I have no life and nowhere to go, but increasing my knowledge gets depressing at times! My dumbass decided to try better understanding women by studying the Female brain. They’ve biologically out progressed us men! Their brains mature 2 years earlier and have 11% more neurons and our brains shrink faster with age than theirs! Have you ever wondered why women remember Everything?! Every fight, date, word, romantic encounter/tryst, tender moment, promise, caveat etc and us men get blind-sided because we never remember what we thought was over with! Nope! NO NOO! They won’t let you forget it because they can’t! The hippocampus, the hub for memory, emotion and learning, is much larger and more active in the woman’s brain, including their circuitry for language and observing emotions in others, aka she see’s through you bro! Chances are she ignores it, dismissing you as primitive, but necessary, saying “boys will be boys” ahh they pity us! So don’t do it! Because she won’t forget about it! Don’t forget about it, because she’ll make you remember! Ahhh! We-nev-er-had-a-chancceee! You’re not clever bro, this is science, this is evolutional advantage at its best! Just repent and change, we beat!…we are beat :'( Honor thy woman, or else, because that scorn ain’t no joke!
Imagination – SuProsed2B-A-Con
“Imagination is more important than knowledge”- Einstein
To have boundless imagination I believe you too must have boundless hope. See, I have a great imagination but limited hope. My mom, she has enough hope for all of us and considering her life, that’s a miracle…but I’ve been free and seen people so bogged down by stress, hurt, and responsibility that hope and imagination become viewed as distorted illusions to which no one has time for, I was one of those people. But here in prison, people speak through imagination 24/7 which is passively coated with feverish unrealistic, unrelenting hope. I hear every talk and conversation in descriptive detail of what, how, who and where without the when, and it’s mostly from lifers or people doing 50 plus years, but they don’t let that taper their destination, let them tell it, they will be wearing this, going there, doing that, having her, eating everything, spending it all! Every magazine, TV show, or gossip is a shot at fantasy land and it helps them survive, stay strong and push forward. No one can live for us, so we create our own reality, why speak like you’re already dead? Real life shouldn’t be different, allow yourself imagination and hope. Moral? There’s pro’s to a con, imprisonment brings out insight from inside living that inside strife. It’s never too late to believe, actions are manifested thoughts. Hope hard, imagine hard, then, do believe and become so much more..it can only get greater when you add another aspect of living to life. Others are able to be encouraged by that high spirited optimism, just as I have been. It’s contagious, personify that boundless belief system instead of carrying that unbearable weight of doubt around. You can know so much but become dull with information that is unusable without an imagination to insert it within your life. Dare to escape into your mind from your mess and become more than now, never content, never contempt.