I got two sons,
that shine on me
like I’m under two suns
as they shine on me
and I cast one helluva shadow
learning to keep my sons close
no matter how much I may sweat
I’ll never again shed their shine and let go
Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow
I got two sons,
that shine on me
like I’m under two suns
as they shine on me
and I cast one helluva shadow
learning to keep my sons close
no matter how much I may sweat
I’ll never again shed their shine and let go
I’m just being honest tho honestly all honesty isn’t truth
its just what I see from my point of view
its just things I tend to make up
but how can I read a face thru disguises or makeup
I try not to run like your features peering thru wet glass or makeup
cuz those moments I stay we have a break thru and the best make up
diatribes that turn to dialogue, we mesh up
look we human we both messed up
my motto everything isn’t tomato tomato and if u make it to tomorrow then respect the past, or it’ll all catch up
there’s alotta broken promises bridges trusts and relationships I have to hash up
but today its seems people can just move forward with a hashtag
so I wonder if its even worth directly confronting those past issues because the world is moving that fast
beyond the old things that the farthest thing behind, that may serve to remind of any moment
in time is a back pack
holding tested knowledge and lessons learned now they can learn on the go so they may not be doing that bad
or maybe I shouldn’t judge the surface and assume pain lurks deep beneath hidden like it does with me
I can see the fracture, it resembles the same inconsistent way people call themselves getting in touch with me
going back and forth reaching out acting as if I need their company
when in reality they need some from me
you can never fabricate the wrinkles in every piece of fabric, the irony
is that you can see clearly when you step back taking your feelings out of it entirely
realizing you’re in prison but you’re not the only one stuck in the same place going thru pain stunted growth not growth spurts
feel worse in the cold burr
of the night winds dealing with pride stuck in your molar
the wisdom in u is facing the fact that your soul hearts
eclipsed from being able to see why or even look at any reflection of the truth flared like its solar
tho you struggle with your girls or your guys, with the guise of being the one soul that’s supposed to console cuz all u know and your known as an ex-trovert
but any peace of mind is borrowed cuz internally u feel like a lon-er
fixing everything but yourself cuz misery loves company but company continues to get closer and those around u start picking up on the fact that your in need of some kind of closure but u don’t want to expose your
hand, so u fade to the background making up excuses to resist any further exposure
they call and pry while u deny trying to rely on stealthy composure
here it is so many years later and nothing has changed besides the morbid fact of u getting older
and your head hangs lower
eye bags, starring into your iphone or ipad-
and your back has a bulge as u try not to divulge your load within your posture but you’ve been
carrying like a boat, a bulk of baggage upon your shoulders
every pebble you’ve kicked and rock u thrown molded into a bolder
now there’s nothing light enough left around for u to disregard so evading tactics are becoming bolder
u don’t realize that this is the byproduct of dealing with the symptoms and not diagnosing the root
suddenly u respond to every question asked as if every finger is pointed at u and u start spilling things out that u know is just bullshit from a secluded deluded and jaded point of view
then u call it being honest, tho honestly all honesty isn’t truth
looking back at my past
it seems u will never forgive me, cuz u can’t get beyond all that
I swallow my pride, tall glass
u only remember the bad like there was never no good, frequently missing calls whenever I dial
your number, I question if I should cal back
tell me what do u call that
u said u was riding, but now u don’t know where u going u say u just want your car with the onstar back
I get it, I know that its hard but I was hoping you’d hang on like a guitar strap
crypted messages when I tell u I love u instead of saying it upfront, I was merely protecting myself but I know I regret it but I hope u understand, I hope u get it, I’m indebted but I hope u forgive all that
I try and try to tell u I’m sorry, but u never pay attention
never stay and listen
yet forever stray and mention
my mistakes and only state dissention
only make decisions
that u believe will keep u safer, with me staying at a distance
but all your relationships end the same so tell me what’s the difference
pain cures cuz love heals, becuz love reveals what pain conceals so u know pain cuz u know love
but right now u not given up no love
I say I’m not given up, to only receive a response within your cold shrugs
wit a big chip on your shoulders, come on grow up
we grown up
we both got pride, po’ up
how can we say anything but goodbye, showing me your back like centers trying to post up
u play me to your walls like a poster
I try to create a space for us to sit down like a coaster
because standing firm keeps us from getting closer
keeps us from getting closure
we only getting colder
we argue religiously like its kosher
like its our culture
full-disclosure
the more we fight the more it feels like your walls open
like nostrils over a cup of folgers
I wonder if u ever notice
I feel u testing my limits, although pushing creates resistance, these intense moments mirror Your selfies, u seem more in focus
and I’m working on trying to be more present
its just that we teeter on the edge kickin our feet like we seated on the bottom of the moons crescent
and while we’re up here and on edge, I guess its still a beautiful view
I think u like the excitement in fighting, inside u are a titan plus your furrowed eyebrows look beautiful two
its hard to hate u when your’re angry
because its as if I’m observing a Renaissance painting
I’m learning more the more we rendezvous, a natural renegade feigning
a reluctance to the energy spent in love yet u get off from complaining
I see clearly now that that’s your love language
a foreshadowing show of your barriers fading
ridiculing my past was a mask for the fear of the future we’re facing
You never imagined yours being coupled with another, sometimes I wonder how u never cease to amaze me
my 4 seasons for a reason becuz you always change me
“Who are people, but for their relations and relationships?”
What if you were told that for a certain number of years, that you wouldn’t matter, that you would barely be seen, heard, touched, acknowledged, or remembered?
That you’d almost cease to exist in the minds and eyes of those that once knew and loved you, let alone the whole world?
Basically your whole existence would become null and void,
a black hole of sorts.
How would you deal with that reality of not mattering and being the equivalent of a ghost- transparent and melancholy in memory, starving for attention?
That reality is a slow death, because all we know and consider as life is that which we see, interact, and connect with.
That time given of non-existence, is a coffin, with a person inside banging, screaming
“I’m not dead!”
yet unheard, and left alone.
Now add the constructs of distance, time constrained and procedurally scrutinized visits, some visits non-contact which serve to slowly cut off emotional ties cruelly, and monitored phone calls that end with the reminding of your communicational mortality.
What you have, is a life clinging to the scarce hope of relevance and love, before their mind tilts on the edge towards survival with only animalistic instincts, away from human emotion and bonding, due to inhumane practices in prison of limited contact.
So my challenge to you is-
if you have a loved one incarcerated,
Consider what your shelf life would be before you imploded from lack of love and relevance, then strive to reach out before that shelf life runs its course and be consistent.
By sacrificing a little of your time and comfortability, you will help them remember that they are loved and they matter.
Because a mind without relations and relationship,
is not the mind of a better person.
That mind is ailed and weak, suffering because that person has been separated from the very reasons we live and value life.
Therefore, being released back into that same society will not automatically be a better experience, it’ll be confusing, too fast, and hard to trust.
After abandonment, loved ones won’t look the same in their eyes, nor their deprived minds and hearts.
We can all stand up, but besides taking a stand, the hardest stance in life, is Understanding.
Put on our shoes for a sec, now what do you see?
Now, can you deal with that view?
Imprisoned Love,
I’m in prison Love,
but she says,
Love, is prison
What’s the value of a man in prison?
What’s the value of loving a man inside a prison?
Does it also make you inside of a prison?
Isn’t love a set of confines,
with whom you confide?
What if the love you confide,
is inside confines,
unless love is blind,
then are you not confined in it?
All this judgement about where I’m at,
but indeed,
in its own way,
Love, is prison.
The difference is,
I want to be free,
but do you?
Growing up is hard enough, battling all the identity issues, acceptance, conformity, individuality, self love and self knowledge all separate from family.
I mean that’s when life starts right?
As soon as you leave the house and those that know you best and that you feel the most comfort with aren’t around, but I never had that consistency of comfort, so needless to say I had many identity issues.
I even grew up being ashamed of my blackness and the darkness of my blackness at times. So I used to deflect and make light skinned jokes with my lighter skinned black homies since being extra chocolate was the center of a lot of jokes, but now I have two light skinned bi-racial sons.
So they have to deal with all that plus find their fit within their own family and culture since their black side, aka me, is predominately nonexistent in their lives.
I don’t know if their mothers understand the significance of that internal struggle, I mean its not easy to understand unless you go through and kids don’t know how to voice every struggle.
They find the answers to those feelings later in life as they grow and mature. I can’t talk with both my sons right now, but I speak with my youngest, and I recently started singing that song, “I’m black and I’m proud” with him, because he lives in a predominately white small town, so I try to remind him of how beautiful he his and how different means special.
So it touched me when he said, “daddy,”
I said what,
he said,
“sing that song”
I said what song?
he said,
“I’m black and I’m proud!”
so we sing it together, say it loud,
I’m black and I’m proud,
say it loud!
I’m black and I’m proud,
baby baby baby,
baby baby baby,
oww!
watch me now!
Then I tell him to do his dance at the end, we also sing my fiance Halsey’s song, “without me”
Music not only heals and transcends communication, but gives identity.
I also learned to not call my sons or bi-racial people, mulatto’s.
It comes from the root word, “mule” because back in the day, it was said that black people and white people were a different species, so if they mated, they would be infertile, like a horse mating with a donkey made a mule, which was infertile, so the term mulatto’s came about…
the things you learn just to become a better parent end up also making you a better person.
We don’t only have kids to teach, but we have kids and become taught.
Being dyferent, makes up for all the difference in the world, and embracing your dyference, makes all the difference in the world!
I hope I succeed teaching my sons to be proud of theirs.
There are so many disciplines, ancient wisdoms and proverbs, teachings, and religions that speak to how much more we can become and aspire to be,
the higher levels of internal manifestations…
Even in the bible, which I may butcher, I believe Jesus said,
“these works I do, you can do, and even greater, with just the faith of a mustard seed”.
So it all comes to what do you believe, and how much do you believe it?
Then, how influential, either to your detriment or benefit, are those beliefs?
Sometimes, with me at least, it starts with simply breaking things down and reconstructing the frame work or meaning of those beliefs and the words associated. How can we aspire to be so much more, when we reflect in the murky puddles of our low moments so much, and aren’t told that we are in fact, better than our BEST moments.
Who says that?
Who consistently implants in you that you can do even better?
No,
we for the most part get told that we need to do that over a long period of time, or made to remember how long ago it was that we did something great.
It seems that reinforcement stops after our childhood.
So lets challenge those beliefs, so you will not only succumb to the vision of being your worst moment, but also that you can aspire to be greater than your best moment, however that looks.
Sometimes we do things that we didn’t know that we had in us, whether good or bad, so isn’t it right to think that even at your best that there is even better that you may not realize?
What more is there to life if we stop learning, aspiring, dreaming, believing, capturing, and evolving?
Growth doesn’t stop.
It may at a physical level, but not an internal-
mental emotional and spiritual level.
You are better than your BEST,
and I’m beyond my worst.
Believe that!