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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Inside

You Think

December 18, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

You think that you know me,

you don’t.

You think that you want me,

you won’t.

You think you understand me,

you don’t.

You think it don’t matter,

it does.

You think that you see me,

you don’t.

You think that you hear me,

you can’t.

You think you won’t leave me,

you’ll leave.

I say it ain’t easy,

believe.

Just say goodbye,

‘fore you leave.

But that makes it hard,

so you won’t.

I’ll say goodbye,

‘fore you do.

No it’s not me,

it’s just you.

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Spirit, Trauma

Prison is for the Birds

December 16, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

We often say prison is for the birds

just some shit I’d say cuz I heard it but I never really knew what it meant

Like a lot of language, we get the point.

It’s repeated a lot so we got the context

but we can’t really explain or define the meaning

til I noticed that I always see birds

flying around and landing.

There’s a lot of convicts that love taking bread out the kitchen

instead of filling themselves, they feed the birds

throwing it on the ground

its against the rules

but there’s something peaceful freeing and almost manifest within doing an act that triggers

gracious survival behaviors

no thank u needed nor would even be expected

because that would be crazy,

but just a grace acquiesced to the gesture,

almost gives you a hint of value and purpose,

however unglorious, it was a sacred individual exchange

a moment had

and even if only for a moment inside this darkness, that was a glint of light

watching you give life to a free bird while you lose life to a prison

these birds aren’t like any other, somehow they don’t really fly away when we get close…

like umm, hello? ima danger to society! why ain’t u running?!

They don’t see us as that, they just see us..

and see truly we mean them no harm.

We’re both just trying to get by

so we walk along and amongst them

them choosing to skip instead of fly

if only we had that option, what could contain us physically

but its our physical hangups that keeps our mind and spirits locked up

if only we could transcend that reality of being so surface

I start to wonder, as they fly freely, soaring above and beyond us

Do they even realize that we’re trapped?

Are we the zoo creatures that they visit and pet with their presence?

Birds can just come and go

ahha! ok that’s what it means

since birds can come and go with no care and get fed freely, then prison is for people that have no meaning

no care nor desire to do or be different, this is just another part of their existence, of their survival-

it’s unthought and autonomous

There’s an ignorant necessity to it

as if there’s nothing more but status quo-

no hope, no chance, no relevance

that rings a bell

I say often it took prison to contemplate my former imprisonments

prison is the by product or conclusion of a life being imprisoned in either my thoughts, words, actions and spirit

now I crave true and authentic freedom

not the illusion of it inside the razored gates of conformity, hiding from judgement

cuz that’s all prison is anyway, conformity after judgement

I was hiding out there in my supposed freedom, and ended up manifesting the very thing I was running from

how often do we run to the very things we run from

in some form at least

fear is fluid, its ever changing and limits choices

but love is a choosing of freedom

freedom is in facing yourself and discovering that truth no matter how it may be perceived by others,

though it MUST be received by you otherwise you’re just in another form of prison-

procrastinating the inevitable selfishness, selfconsciousness, self righteousness, being self absorbed are all self imposed prisons

freedom is in love above, beyond, and within all things, even the things you don’t understand and which scare you

fearing what we don’t know is just as common as believing we know all there is to know, or what’s relevant to us anyways…

like there’s nothing else but whats already popularly acknowledged

freedom is in Choice

not coerced but Choice that reflects who you are

I can choose to live in the prison of titles and the perceptual taboos biases preferences stereotypes and judgments that follow-

like being a young black felon, inmate and absent father of two

or I can create my own narrative freely

to live comfortably and stand confidently, even boldly in my own truth, not the script that’s pre-written for me

and whatever predisposed symptoms I’m told I may be ailing from

that’s how powerful choice and freedom is

because somehow the decisions of another can still measure the impact and believed actions of mine that will follow suit…

statistics I guess

but I can still choose different, but where does that fit into the equation?

see now saying this, if you were being truthful with yourself, how many people do you know that are in prison but aren’t felons?

are you one of them?

I’ve fallen victim to prisons imposed on me that I wasn’t properly conscious of and my reaction? well I decided to be a victimizer of those situations-environments conditions and those ‘sir, come stand’ circumstances-

instead of victim to them

yea yea, I know its paradoxical to hear of a felon and inmate being a victim but truthfully-

we all are until we decide to be free

and freedom is always a choice

here’s an example of that here in prison

my homies start everyday off and even thru out the day because freedom and its choices must remain consistent, with scrutinizing each others every decision before the choices are made, even with trivial things like making a phone call or as major as physical conflict, with these questions

what are you trying to get out of this?

what are you willing to give for it?

what are you willing to settle for?

and if you fall short, and come ‘this’ close of that goal, what are you willing to lose to get there? see? choice is so powerful

because the thought behind it is equally powerful

and deep within we all embody that power and we’re ALL so powerful

even more so once we recognize it instead of reasoning with it in a way that succeeds in nothing but limiting its potential

and freedom, is a declaration of that power

though freedom ain’t cheap, at least it’s still free

so prison is for the birds.

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Mercy, Trauma

You Need People Like Me

December 16, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

You know that scene on Scarface when he’s out to eat with his girl, and he gets all drunk and belligerent, and goes off on that “bad guy” tyrant.

That’s how I feel now, I mean I really identify with that.

“Because you don’t have the balls to chase your dreams”

I look crazy speaking from prison about my vision, passions and dreams, because I guess I’m where I shouldn’t have any.

I guess dreams are only for free people?

Well then how can a person make it through prison if they couldn’t fantasize of a better life, and then put the work in to manifest that belief while in a state of stop?

Because people like me, you get to hide behind your lies, “I always speak the truth, even when I lie I speak the truth”

A lot of people don’t want to hear the truth about my life or life behind these walls and locked doors.

Part-time warriors and part-time worriers is what life gets divided into.

If I speak the truth, how many will listen?

But if I craft a lie to better acquiesce to the reality that you feel more comfortable believing in, then even in that, I’m speaking a truth about the world.

So yea, I’ll play the bad guy to the world,

to everyone too blameless to make mistakes,

to everyone hiding behind people like me.

I’ll take that,

because in this, I get to finally be free…

and your freedom becomes more illusion and fairy tale,

but who doesn’t like a good fairy tale or illusion,

so,

YOU NEED PEOPLE LIKE ME!

SO YOU CAN SAY,

THAT’S THE BAD GUY!

SO SAY GOODNIGHT

TO THE BAD GUY,

BECAUSE THERE’LL NEVER BE ANOTHER ONE LIKE ME!

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Spirit, Trauma

I Wonder…

December 15, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

What am I?

What, not who, because when things get and got bad, I’m treated more like a what, and not a who.

So, what am I?

A collapsing building, a spiraling/crashing plane, or a sinking ship?

I mean I can hear it how certain people talk or respond to me…

as if I should be so lucky to have their attention since I’m in prison…

or like I’m damaged goods and served better at a distance or no contact at all as if I’m toxic or contagious…

or like they always knew my potential, and now its safe to acknowledge me again now.

But then there’s those few, that never lost sight of me, never lost faith in me, and have always and continue to talk to me like a who.

A who that is still important to them, a who that isn’t reminded of the where I reside or what I did, but the how I’m salvaging the wreck that was me.

Whether a collapsing building, a crashing plane, or a sinking ship..

they’ve stayed around and never abandoned,

believing that one in a million chance of survival was possible and worth the risk in staying around, knowing that it would be alright and better on the other side and honestly, they just wanted front row seats to the process.

Because hearing it second hand, or coming back around Kate just wouldn’t have been as satisfying.

When things go bad, we’re reminded who we are, in the eyes of those we believed believed in us. Those closer than most that we said we loved…

I’m not toxic anymore, but still just in case, to keep yourself safe, do us both a favor and stay at a distance. I have just enough around me, which happened to be the only ones I needed, no one can do it alone.

Shout out to my first responders and first ridiculers, you showed me who, not what, I am, and more importantly, you showed me you, Priceless! Which is good, because coming out of prison I’ll be needing to spend a lot of money that I don’t have yet starting all over, Sheesh! Dodged one!

Prison wisdom: Fuck what they say, watch what they do.

I wonder…

Why is the misery of people or an animal, a source entertainment or income for a branch of societies that would almost seem like puppet masters.

Like a zoo, taking animals outside of their natural habitat for our amusement.

Or what if you threw a steak or a gazelle in a lions den full of hungry lions with a camera, that’d be great right?

Or what about gladiators in Rome?

What about black men in low income areas pitted against each other for limited resources where competition and crude survival instincts are endorsed only to end with their deaths or imprisonment where they fight in that gladiators arena until freed or for a life time…

Are you not Entertained?!

Yea we have a problem.

We’re sick, complaining about the symptoms of our virile system, but love the show and profits!

America, The New Rome

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

Aye God

December 13, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

God, I feel like a little boy

the way you pick me up

I pray to you, my favorite ‘pick me up’

I stray from you, but never get enough

I run right back, I feel like I’m in love

I remember you rendered me physically weak

in the midst of your spirit that creep into and entered me, see

I could doubt you no longer

the depth of that break down, rose me up even stronger

can I talk to you about my lifestyle

I’m not the same when the lights out

life is dark and full of waves, and I know you are my lighthouse

but I see my illuminated shame when its bright out

yet you still love me, you never yell, you watch me and believe I will fix it

you have unshakable faith, I want that too but jaded by vision

I can’t see as deep as you can without your holy prescription

though I try, my pride is another sin I’ve committed

judgement is another, I digress, that job is only yours

I share my heart with so many afflictions, but its supposed to be only yours

I try to take back and side entrances, but you’re the only door

the only reason I humbly drop my knees on the floor

And I don’t have to beg, God you already know what I want

but always at the right time you provide just what I need

I want to get out of prison, but I know I’m a service here

I figured that out realizing that prison is a platform, and I can serve you here

God, finally knowing you kinda gets me giddy

realizing there’s much more to life, so excuse me, I gotta get busy!

Filed Under: Inside, Mercy, Spirit

Prison Life is Hard

December 12, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

This prison life?

yea, it ain’t easy

believe me

this shit hard

walking dead bodies

on a big yard

with ignorant guards

aiming at my head

I find that

more people here

work to get you

to remember where you are

to act less than you are

but you can’t break down

what can’t be broken

word is bond

and everyday I build on

that at times

I may have to get

aggressive

just for you

to get the message

but without the best

listening tools

what more am I left with?

no one answered

the phone

no mail

no visit

I’m trying my ‘bestest’ shit,

sometimes I feel I barely exist

this prison life is hard

I tell you!

but I won’t show it

though

all I dream about

is an exit.

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Mercy, 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.

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