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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Love

ChasHer

December 10, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

The way she runs

even from me

is like

she is chased-

either away or to be captured

but I haven’t moved one inch

yet she feels,

I’m on her heels

and somehow

she ends back here

where she began in my open arms and beating heart-

against hers against the world against all

Odds

Even

when she flees I don’t give chase

because I don’t know where it’ll take me

where it’ll take us

and neither does she

running blind

leads to more pain

because there’ll be a harder fall

we can’t brace for getting back up

won’t be as easy as just staying put

I offer her space because she’ll create it anyway

I’ll never understand why she never understood

why come to find out I’m more answer than obstacle of..

Coarse!

but she may be gone for too long

before she figures that out…

sorry, people move on

you weren’t the only one

lonely all along

I stood my ground

waiting

lonely

cold

I needed warmth

and you hadn’t come back yet

but give me the same respect

and don’t chase me

I found someone that stays

go ahead and stay in shape

run while I lay idle

and Warm from Closeness

not Cold

from Your Distance.

Filed Under: Culture, Love, Trauma

Flowers Aren’t Plants

December 8, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Flowers aren’t plants, they’re raw and organic, they’re people, the bud it their pupil

oh and roses aren’t red, they just bleed because love hurts

they love the sun and the breeze, the night moon and the stars and hate the winter and related to the trees

they just bleed because love hurts

they stand strong and they lean, resilient as you and me, their beauty comes from what’s underneath

they just bleed because love hurts

they spring from the earth thru a seed, a deeply rooted birth, water helps them grow and breath, magnetically attractive to the birds and the bees

that’s why they bleed because love hurts

A crazy life lived on the edge

because I willingly put love first

Memories painted within my head

that I emotionally smother

So hope can’t be dead

because it arises from the dirt

oh and, Roses aren’t Red

they just bleed because love hurts.

Filed Under: Culture, Love, Trauma

I’m All In Now

December 7, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I’m all in now

but I’m fallin down

so I’m callin out

cause I’m fallin still-

where is the ground?

where are you now?

when I call your name

I don’t hear a sound

I fear my voice

the echoes tell truths

that I am alone

alone without you

alone in this room

who turned out the lights?

I turned around

when you turned me down.

I closed my eyes

tears formed a line

the line that I draw

a line you still cross

cross out the day

the day that we met

cross out my picture

so you will forget

and can’t see me when

when you close your eyes

and can’t hear my voice

and can’t see me cry.

I’m fallin down

cause I fell for you

I did it on my own

but I am your fool.

you love the power

the power that u have

the power you hold over

over my head.

can’t go to sleep

I’m slow to speak

head over feet

cuz I was head over…hills.

I am so ill

u broke my will

those flowers will wilt but

I love u still.

Though your heart is steel

staring at our stills

those moments that we steal

are none of them real.

I was just reeled

but I can not deal

I was your shield

but where is my shield?

Are we stuck in nil

would you rather I kneel?

Do you ever feel?

when you see me…falling…still?

Filed Under: Culture, Love, Spirit, Trauma

Titanic

December 6, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Let’s take a chance on this titanic

even tho its a sinking ship, I’m a hopeless romantic

plus we shouldn’t over think our possible ending, let’s be organic

its to our benefit to see things better than they appear, we’ll add to this vantage, for our own advantage

I call a few times, she doesn’t answer

shh, voices, Russell don’t panic

maybe she sleepin

and doesn’t see it

quick, come up with a dozen reasons

to try and ignore that my stomach is seizing

self consciousness is so misleading

calm your thoughts, control your breathing

on this brisk summer evening

amongst the sun and the breezes

although the weather feels to fair to wonder if someone is cheating

let go of that heart that u wear under ur sleeve and leave it to the seamstress

maybe she’ll message me later, or maybe not…plucking petals

love comes with a dozen levels

those moments u call out, and u aren’t heard but hear a hundred echoes

there goes those voices, they’re far from helpful

let go

or, should I voice my thoughts

but at what cost

not all honesty is truth

so the way some things come across

may accelerate the loss

ugh

I’m at a loss

what do I do

trying to play it cool

may only prolong me feeling like a fool …

in the end

damn it I thought I said we shouldn’t over think our possible ending

but fears come to light when you live in the shadow of foreshadowing

I try to weather my own forecast that forms forks in the road

consuming half-hearted whichever direction I take

errrrr

press the brakes

shit!

too late

gulp that sour pride with the sugarry brim that blinds the truth for the moment until you

swallow hard, divorcing the responsibility of when men mess up because we still call it a miss-take

she was just out of signal, out of range

that text was confirmed sent the same time you couldn’t cancel the one that you sent

reading while wishing you weren’t lucid

feeling so stupid

when we embrace self doubt, thoughts can turn maleficent

the whole time you were assuming, she was thinking of you and had been trying to get ahold of you ever since

the time stamp you read guiltily is her innocent evidence

yea, she took a chance on that titanic

she just didn’t know that the ship would be sunken by a hopeless romantic

she said goodbye, jack!

Filed Under: Culture, Love, Spirit, Trauma

Blind Love

December 6, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

You been chasing blind love with an anchor on your ankle

and a black eye from its failed attempts because you never learned, yet still you’re full of child

like hope…I swear I believe in it like you do

that’s why I take inventory of every bit of pain I’ve experienced on my quest to possess it in every lasting way possible, tho I am unsure of how to accomplish that

at least I learn, not to turn away but to find another way, because going the same way always ends with me losing my way

a gluten for abuse it seems, chasing love comes off a little masochistic huh

but like a wild kid learning with every experience, I’ll take these black eyes with pride and a smile, full of scrapes and scuffs, I may cry but I’ll get back up and do it all over again

because I get more than I lose, so what’s a bruise or two but a few clues for a new route

I’ll never let you down, never forget you or leave you alone and I’ll always chase you

until you’re mine, besides we’re made for each other

blind love.

Filed Under: Love, Mercy, Spirit

I’m Weak

December 3, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I don’t like to admit that I’m weak

but we already inside these seven days

and it only took-

one to fall

You wonderful

as if I’m standing in awe

viewing a water fall

and I’m under all

Your ambiance

You got an audience

like inaugural

when u audio, I mean when u speak, u say what u mean,

You never audibled

marathon intent, coats your strength, u stay wit it like cardio

and when that water broke, them rivers rushed and those ocean tides, turned to waves

u faced it wit me, and never turned away

u soothe my spirit and quiet my voices like my favorite song

so I can admit that I’m weak when its you that makes me strong.

Filed Under: Love, Mercy, Spirit, Trauma

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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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