Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Russell Wardlow

In Between a Rock and a Safe Place

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I have to be the rock
the rock that doesn’t sink
though I’m sinking…

I have to be the rock in which
all things are built and founded upon
but I’m sinking…still

the rock that isn’t hurled
nor kicked, but ominous
and immovable

never too high
never too low
never too big
never too small

positioned with equal purpose
and proportion

I have to be the rock that
determines surface,
from sea level

I have to be the rock
ever-stable,
amongst uneven ground

misunderstood, if stepped on
existing to be built than lived on

trying so long to stay afloat
never noticing
I’d sink perfectly into position

and all I was doing
was landing

becoming the island above
surrounded by water
for all castaways
to get away
safe

And it Goes On

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here we go again
anger and fear
the most potent concoction here
it’s too common here
too often peace gets commandeered
hostility volunteers
unity seldom accomplished here
it’s too toxic here
unsure, uncertain, I’m too cautious here
arrested development without cops in here
breathing isn’t free, it gets caught in here
misery is the domineer
and right now, it’s that time of year

Good Damage

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there’s value in brokenness
you just have to want to
see it
in yourself
then you’ll identify
with someone else
needing to be helped

I think my shell
has been my longest-lived
prison cell
my vocal heart quelled
by a development jailed
erosive emotions guarded and hailed
in the wake of hope, one could only rebel

there’s honor in honesty
I say this humbly, I’m depraved
with nothing, it’s hard to be brave
when I only see graves
I brace too much to embrace
but how can one behave?
when that way means, be slaved

but there’s value in us
cutting calendars up
living and feeling is challenge enough
detaching from time until released
what an irony, huh?
every over-pressured coal creates a diamond
if help is mining, you’ll see us shinning, just look!

When I Couldn’t See, Myself

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to every teacher
you reached me
and I ask your forgiveness
I didn’t know how to live
so I was just living

ignorant to the wisdom of moderation
feeling imprisoned by limits
foolish to the divine feminine
thinking they were ‘just’ women

see?

it just took me a minute to get it
my learning process caused tension
each layer reached, I rebelled and was trippin’
believing more to this life, felt like a fiction

but as physical things diminished
I was left with the crickets

aha! I said it took a minute to finally get it
so I’d be remiss if I failed to mention
my friendships and support system,
who revealed that which was hidden

though you all could’ve cut all transmission
your communication and consistence
was a godsend to my senses
because it’s hard living in the trenches
while not coming off, or out, offensive

Empac-thize

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empathize with the devil
advocate for the ghettos
break ground with the pebbles
sympathize with the rebels

tell the pennies they’re quarters
show them their special importance
cut the chords and live cordless
now be boundless and voyage

tell the men to be boyish
tell the women be girlish
it’s OK to be grown-ish
but don’t lose touch with the child in you-
it’s more your truth, you should own it

tell the whites that they us
I’m with the blacks, ‘nough’s enough!
don’t let the creme overdo it
can’t bake a crust too stuffed

tell the prisons, revolt!
can’t change from distance, remote
don’t let the scape get your goat
don’t let the hate grip your throat

scream to the love, live on!
then tell the dark, dream on!
then tell the kids, dream more!
don’t cut down trees that we need-
release, just breath, and be more!

Trapped

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think they understand you
not realizing your actions
results from how they demand you
stereotypes feel like mating parents
they planned you

what control did you ever have
yet still bear the responsibility
what choice did you ever have
yet still carry the consequence

those who arrive to help
do the most judging
those who prefer you where you are
deny being judgemental

what room did you ever have
when every step is ridiculed
what thoughts are truly yours
when their system thinks for you

how is change possible
if those who speak loudest
lack the ability to change their methods
or themselves…

I hear hollow voices
repeating insanity

I see empty bodies
but filled beds

I know guilty minds
think self-righteously

I touch solid walls
and can’t escape