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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Russell Wardlow

For My Life

September 13, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Prison was punishment

but I can’t stomach it

They put a price on my life

I gotta fight for my life

I broke my left after a right

They rollin’ dice on my life

Lions eat mice in this life

I need a knife for my life

Cuz they’ll stick a knife in my life

Might have to take a life for my life

And I might get life for that life

A lot in my eyes that I hide

Say I’m alright but I lie

Cuz I have a fight, I have pride

On borrowed time while inside

How much time til outside

My neighbor just lost his life

Before he made it outside

Everyday will I see night

Every night will I see light

I thought time had paid that price

But that price could be my life.

Filed Under: Inside, Mercy, Spirit, Trauma

Hurts Good

September 13, 2017 by Russell Wardlow 1 Comment

I ran away from pleasure

and embraced the pain

to which became her name –

love hurts – but I love hurt

and I love hers – because I love her….

pain

Filed Under: Inside, Love, Trauma

Insight

September 13, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

The inspiration that women incite,

Excites – and that’s insight

For inside, in that dim light

Within that dim life

In the depths of a lions den haunted by them nights

When the ink pen writes

every ink bleeds, the pen cries

symbolically when a man cries

with no woman in-sight.

Filed Under: Culture, Love, Spirit

Cunning-Linguist

September 13, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I don’t need to know your whereabouts or what you’re wearing out

and if you wore it out –

Even if it’s a dress, unless you’re undressed

But there’s one thing we need to get addressed, before you get a dress,

Like, why were you seen leaving his address?

Filed Under: Love, Trauma

Sunshine

September 13, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

My sunshine, is my son’s smiling

My sunshine, is answered calls when I’m dialing

My sunshine, is pictures sent with letters

My sunshine, has no bearing with the weather

My sunshine, is visitations

My sunshine, is freedom, the prize of patience

My sunshine, not a star but a part of matter

My sunshine, is mattering to those that matter

My sunshine, is every time I can smile

As time eclipses, I notice I haven’t felt my sunshine in a while.

Filed Under: Inside, Love, Mercy, Spirit

Bed of lies

September 13, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Red, rose petals on the bed of defeat

My tongue intertwined between the legs of deceit

Penetrate my delusions on the lies of these sheets

She starts to scream out the side that she hides as she rises to her peak

But before she misspeaks…she peeks

She quiets, tenses & we lock eyes

She comes…

Forward with truth so strong she unlocks mine

Heaves in her chest, flush in her flesh was showing

nothing said, just tides of a melancholy knowing –

Dead, rose petals on the bed of deceit

I morbidly leave, from between, the legs of defeat…

Filed Under: Culture, Love, 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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