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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Russell Wardlow

Living Liars

July 22, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

there’s this lie
one that you must know about me
I wrestle with it
more than I do my pillow
fighting to listen to sound sleep
I don’t want you to know
me by this lie
yet you do, already
more than you know me
by anything else
or other than
something else or anything
other…wait,

confused myself
guess I just want you to
better understand the lie
you will know then
who I am, really am.

seeing what I have
been up against
you are
better able to see me
know me
hear me
trust me
help me. heal me. whole me.

but you don’t know me
by first, hearing my truth
still you can’t see
beyond my lie
far enough to
absorb my truth
and care.
but to care,
you must know the lie first,
reason being..?
you live it as well.

how does one live truth
rediscovering lie after lie?
unlearning and relearning
in years too far from childhood

it seems
the lies are the layers
which lie in procession
to one’s core truth,
core of truths.

the lies are fodder
old paint
chipped away at
or the splintered wood
chopped down
never sanded.

I was spirit
before being
I was celestial
before extraterrestrial
I am absolute
relatively speaking
I am imagination and will
manifested
I am vessel
for truth realized.

king, in one mind
god, in the other

but, I was born a lie
then became human.

before man
I was child.

and even before baby
I was black!

though your mind denies
color is unseen
and my certificate of birth
readies the lie
signed, into truth

I am a lie
you carry it out
by reinforcing a world
which accepts it.

you see me
and say
he’s black
I am and am not,
I am and am more
I am
but
the lies you tell yourself!
dressed as truths
they appear worn
picking with no sense of details

the lies I believed
trying to discover
truth.
new clothes, I’ve rarely tried on

the lie I became
knowing no truth
the truths I know–
outcastes, of lies–
have to convince you
and me
of the truths, we live
being lies

the lies we know
obscure the history
of truth’s time in the sun

so I need you to see me
I need you to know the truth
my truth
your truth!

Son shine, Sunshine!
Sun Shine!

but if the moon,
remains eclipsed
you will never will
true sight
until you understand
the dark is the truth
and the light,
the way

Frantz Fanon said
”a Black, is not a man”
so my lie
is harder to escape
than yours

a complex problem,
with too simple a solution
to be believed, in
so since the details matter
‘rejected’
is who I am
until we stop living lies

Filed Under: Culture, Love, Spirit, Trauma

Thing Chasing

July 21, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

lost myself losing things
lost things lose people
people lose things
loss seems like self-lost

thing people
people things
time loss loses things
things lost to time

more things one finds
more self becomes blind
things vanish, lost in time
with no frame of mind

occupying space and time
degenerative minds
the self I lost, chasing things through time
when all I’ve lost, is my mind

Filed Under: Inside, Spirit, Trauma

Sin-Tax

July 20, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

how can I
get free,
when the language
I speak
holds me down
perpetually
rendering me
meek
weak
peaked

Filed Under: Spirit

Secret Bliss

July 19, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I made love to her
a time or two
not in ways
I once knew–
before not knowing, more–
fore, she knows me not
nor, I of her
her and I are..how do you say..??
senseless, in this manner
though change being, all there ever was
and is, all things
our lack of touch, changes nothing
when still, chills and thrills
amidst stillness, is instilled
like stealth
imperceptibly, we feel
alas, we know each other
as one another
yet others, as one

Filed Under: Love

Wine in My Cup

July 15, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

if I were to imply
I’d imagine grapevines
pumping my heart’s fill of,
red wine
seeing processes through,
my gullet indulging time
pouring you into my cup of life
your sweet and dry
meeting my lips
cold as dry ice
then a warmth ensues
two natures combined
as I consume ages of truth
in the form of you
but that’s only if I were to imply
the chemistry,
between you and I

Filed Under: Love

Objectification and Subjectivity

July 14, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

submerging into subversion
aversion to assimilation
conversion to isolation
diversion from misrepresentation

a limitless manifestation
only limited by lacking imagination
and limiting impositions, of
subjectivity subjugated by objects, and
objects subjugating objectivity

I find it, difficult being objective
when the subject
is of more than objects
my subjective objected against
because I’m a sensitive subject
handled like an object

therefore I object to objectivity
when the human condition
calls for subjectivity
the essence of humanity
no longer can be believed, humane
if it swallows empathy whole

Filed Under: Spirit

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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.

Read More

  • Whose Mind is it Anyway June 30, 2022
  • Objects June 30, 2022
  • Same Thang, Different Name June 30, 2022
  • Optical Ill-lusions June 30, 2022
  • Hollow Symbols June 30, 2022

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