• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer

Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

  • Home
  • About
  • Prose
    • Culture
    • Inside
    • Love
    • Mercy
    • Spirit
    • Trauma
  • Listen
  • News
  • Connect
  • Support

Culture

High Strung

July 15, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I got the news-

You said the bruise was from a night of booze

The freedoms we lose by the allegiance we choose

What you viewed was a ruse – looted and polluted solutions

An arubics of gruesome illusions

With abuse that looms and consumes

Like a drug… withdraw or cope?

Confusing, the metaphysical intrusions

An emotional nuance or nuisance, fused with

The hue of jewels, inside of a tomb, tied to a noose

On the neck of a muse, just to amuze

And hide the truth

What beauty would blind

With your mind consumed, you viewed your doom,

Proof- to the delusions of love- the knot in the rope.

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Trauma

Black is the New Black

July 15, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Black feet- black cleats- Athlete- Black dreams

Black fleece- bah bah black sheep- black swan

Black Maybach, black man in the back seat- black streets

Black mask- black duffle bag- black thundercat

If money is over everything..then name everything under that

Black heart- black eyes – black tar, add veins

Black pain- back pain- got a lotta weight on me,

And my family waiting on me- so it’s hard to be patient

Pacing- angst in fate- facing hate- placing blame

Ached with shame- chasing gains- til you make it rain-

Til you make a name- but still, oiled skin,

Add rain, black horse, add reins- black trophies,

Add chains, green paper, add change- black life, add strain

Black face, add vain- black hoodie, add aim!

Filed Under: Culture, Spirit

I Know

July 11, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I know how it feels to lose it all –

Because of a mistake or have it taken from you

To withdraw – you don’t feel any part of your heart

Not that it’s breaking, it’s just breaking from you

To feel naked, vacant, ached and displaced

When facing something or someone adjacent to you

To lose faith – but that’s satan or your own creation

Taking up space so revelations don’t make it to you.

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Love, Mercy, Spirit, Trauma

  • « Go to Previous Page
  • Go to page 1
  • Interim pages omitted …
  • Go to page 44
  • Go to page 45
  • Go to page 46

Primary Sidebar

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

  • Existential Namesake February 17, 2021
  • Unplanned Destiny February 14, 2021
  • Harambee February 6, 2021
  • Wiseman said, ‘Things’ February 6, 2021
  • Depth Perception February 5, 2021

Themes

  • Culture
  • Inside
  • Love
  • Mercy
  • Spirit
  • Trauma

Footer

Prose of a Con

Prose of a Con is sponsored by giveabeat.org

  • Instagram

Navigation

  • Home
  • About
  • Prose
  • Listen
  • News
  • Connect
  • Support

Themes

  • Culture
  • Inside
  • Love
  • Mercy
  • Spirit
  • Trauma

Prose of a Con © 2021 · web design by Studio Lyko