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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Russell Wardlow

Persevere

December 4, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

..persevere

I formulate it like an idea

I built it up like Ikea

now I’m feelin like a pioneer

I been thru it like riot gear..

Hell yea I had fights here

Hell yea I had fright in here

Hell yea people died in here

Hell yea long nights in here

damn..

I seen dudes burnt alive

I seen dudes stabbed to death

I seen dudes mutilated

something you witness catch your breath

I was called out to the shower, I was koo, it was one on one

I faced it all, I can never run

two more came, I aint hear them come

I hit the ground, saw a blade, and all I thought about was my sons

what I haven’t said to my loved ones

I wont lie here as my blood runs

I went numb

then I went dumb!

survival instincts started hittin home

they won’t stop me from gettin home

I was facin death alone

but I kept swingin til I broke my bones

it got hard to manage breath

adrenaline peaked, no panic left

one man had left

but one hand left..

it can always get worse here

this is hell but there’s church here

I swear reality hurts here

and you’ll never know when it will hit you but you always have to persevere

Filed Under: Inside, Mercy, Trauma

Tecumseh Skies

December 4, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Tecumseh skies
I get lost in them, sunrise to sunsets
I crane my neck atop of my spinal column, my flesh stacking like a stack of pancakes
As my eyes soar the vertical limits, dazed in awe
Hypnotized by the littering of oil pastels across the skyline
Streaks painting the atmosphere a collage of colors
As if God has a canvass of infinite textures swiping freely in some cosmic design I’m unaware of
Beauty in its randomness
Magenta, navy blue, sky blue, flamingo pink, reddish orange with specks of yellow and gold..
[intercom]
Head back to your unit Wardlow
Reverie snapped
Quickly swallowed back into the mouth of hell
It’s teeth gnashing at my worn black boots
My body, once weightless, now heavy, feeling every push of gravity towards the stained grey concrete
I reluctantly begin to walk
I pass dead green grass, dirty grey fencing, and a morbid tan khaki colored clothing
A color some will go to their graves in
Until tomorrow
Tecumseh skies

 

Filed Under: Love, Spirit

Dry Ice

December 4, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I can’t wait, until these tears dry
I can’t wait…until this tear dries
The last gift, to which, I can remember you by
The scars on my heart, I can remember you by
A glimpse of our stint, hmm, December, July
Hot and cold, seasonal love only delivers you lies
I try to close my eyes so you don’t enter my mind
Then the moment you arrive, my temperature rise
Perplexing your effect..you are composed of ice
Perplexed by your effect..your composure is ice
I, can’t wait until this tear dries
I can’t wait! But now this tear is ice

 

Filed Under: Inside, Love, Trauma

Addict

December 4, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Chain smoke, binge drink
Pop pills, narcoma…
Inhaled lines, euphoria!
Crazy thoughts..scared of needles
Exhale leaves, picture perfect..no worries
Coming down, sick of life
Drink syrup..light darkens
Lucid dreams-echoed vibrations
Mirror-mirror on a caved in wall
I look down standing on a pile of broken glass
Asleep on a bed of needles, don’t wake me
I’m still broken, I may never feel whole again!
And then,
That love, real love, her love..
Pure! Inhale…
Exhale!
Intoxicating
New Drug, Love
Addicted!

 

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Love, Trauma

Defy

December 4, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Realize I define Defy when I speak
Defy, I defied the tides of this sea
Denied, my reply, I’m tied to this dream!
Defiant, a lion, alive, I don’t sleep
Aligned with defiance, a light when I think
Like science, I’ve tried it, and I’m on the brink
Poseidon’s trident on my side, waters subside, I won’t sink
Collide with the skies like I’m flying, Orion, I’m dying to meet
Like a pilot defying my peak
Defying Goliath, with Defy as my rock, tied to a sling
It seems,
We all been lost in the dark
Trying to find truth in the light
Yet we are blinded by sight
Stuck in denial until we realize
Pain is real life!
Body language incites and ignites
The changing of minds
So we can either fade in time
Or stand tall, climb out our disguise and defy
Defy

 

Filed Under: Inside, Spirit, Trauma

Trying to keep Hope Alive

December 1, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I never dared to have faith while in prison,

death is so poetic here

And so is the contradiction of living between walls.

I never thought much when I saw an old candle with a bright flame,

until a few days ago

I spoke with an old man adorning a young spirit.

Charismatic, confident, and motivated

Outwardly overly optimistic

But I looked into his eyes for the first time the other day

As he spoke about the grandeur coming if we were to meet once free

I was took distracted by the way his irises are beginning to grey and yellow at the edges,

Product of 30-40 plus years in prison

His dream, amongst other things, is to become a producer

The paradox of hope inside of hell, he continues to amaze me

but I saw something deeper and more morbid deep in his focus

He played me a slew of beats, to which he has a few hundred created on his keyboard

But I sat there distracted

All I could think about is how thin of a thread he is holding onto

And one last rejection of freedom may cost him his most important beat of all

His heartbeat

Trying to keep hope alive

Filed Under: Inside, Mercy, Spirit, Trauma

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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.

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