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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Mercy

My Mama Veered Left, but We ALL-RIGHT

July 3, 2021 by Russell Wardlow 1 Comment

I just found out…
before my mom went back to jail
she started using again
abusing to blend
the outer influences that have ruined her when
she was truant losing parental rights,
consumed by polluted solutions
diluted for illusions
even the acoustics
of broomsticks moving
couldn’t remove the doom and gloom from the room she was in
prayers for a truce in her sin
mistakes and detached love has been her truth and the rue of her kin
plagued by a traumatic history and the hue in her skin
the rooms starts to spin…
the truth which tombs her within
til her roots spruce on the bend
giving into the ruse of delusions
to get through any mood that’s she’s in
desire and coping habits to the hopeless, are like a noose to her wind
her air cut off, and this is nothing new
this is something I should’ve knew
but the news of it is
she was doing great blooming
til covid became the new nuisance
she couldn’t get any break, so how do you choose when you can’t win?
and this is what I’m used to
this is proof to,
how they debilitate spoon feed and groom you
til you’re set loose from the pen
you’re never free from prison
because prison imprisons
til you’re fatally doomed in the end
and the view is too grim
yet they’ll always have a room for you here

it’s hard, I fight shame frustration and embarrassment
but I’ma still love you mama
I learned this kinda love ain’t learned, it’s inherited
of many things, this is the favorite part of you that I’ve parroted
even through the ups and downs of life’s parodies
you deserve a break, after all you been through, it’s merited
so I’ll be going even harder, and any extra weight you pick up, I’ll help you carry it
the truth is, this is more than a physical collapse, this is mental
I know that battle is actually a war, it’s far from simple
consistence persistence resilience diligence,
what I mean is that I’ma follow-through because it’s essential
after all, experience in this side of life is the best credentials
plus I’m up on my studies,
being a successful healer to me is existential
if my empathic understanding isn’t evidential
then the proof is in the R.U.S.S. initials
because I know emotions are a Cold War like Russian missiles
so your truth won’t be concealed like tucking pistols
no matter what love comes into my life
I’ma represent you right, and not throw you to the side
saying, ‘those just my mother’s issues’
trust and believe, the day you free, I’ma come and get you
so if you fall in your own home, it’ll be your own walls that you’re running into

this is my life, I can never do it part-time
because even the future digs up archives
when you living for the love, then it’s your heart’s prime
and you can endure any kinds of hard times
let my words be a beacon for the dark side
and the dark minds
and the lost minds
and to whomever else my heart finds
because even if you veer left, take a hard right
so you know no matter where you end up, you’ll be alright

WayOfLife

Filed Under: Inside, Love, Mercy

Melodic Verse: Incredulous

July 1, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

how can you want more for me than I want for myself?
that doesn’t make sense

how can you see me suffer and don’t offer no help?
that doesn’t make sense

how can you have the answer but send me somewhere else?
that doesn’t make sense

how can you know me but not wanna know how I feel?
that doesn’t make sense

how can you love me but not wanna feel what I feel?
that doesn’t make sense

blah blah blah blah…
stop making no sense

I seen my mama been suffering
I seen a lot that’s been troubling
I speak my truth and that’s troublesome
I ran a lot but was stumbling
I fell a lot it was humbling
there is a lot that I underwent
there is a lot that I’m up against
I had to break all the cuffs I’m in
I had to cut my circumference
’cause everything company coming with
lessen the strongholds I struggle with
only need one time to learn, I don’t double dip
balance extremes with the subtleties
yaw can’t rebuttal me
I do not need any fucking wit
I take the slights til they’re too much to stomach them
but vomit is humbling

Filed Under: Mercy, Trauma

I am Good

June 30, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

remember me
because I am good
I protect the weak
I am as kind as can be
I shelter the roamers
I counsel the lonely
truly I am good
but this nature isn’t always shone
because I have a bad rap
that people will remember more
for now
but I love you
you, as all
and you, as you
and throughout your fears
your, as all
your, as you as well
I just want your love too
fore I am truly good
and desire nothing
but good for you

Filed Under: Love, Mercy

Broken for the Broken

June 29, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I don’t want to be healed
they need to be felt
I need someone to get that
and be for me,
what I cannot be for myself
besides in moments with you
because I am a beacon for them
take this burden
and bury worry
I can handle it
if you can handle me
but I’m asking too much
I rather you, offer
healing will end my art
confuse my heart
life is parts
parts of a whole
my parts are all holed
nothing I write is right
nor complete
words used wrong
sense unmade
there are holes
but in that
I find home
no more roam in one day
allow me to be my way
you will realize
I’m unbroken and unbreakable
in that I am broken
a physical state of being spoken
without words, knowing

Filed Under: Love, Mercy, Trauma

Peekaboo

June 28, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

if you face your fears
you will see me
boo!
am I beautiful?
freedom is,
scary
but if I am not invisible
then you are brave!

Filed Under: Culture, Mercy

Knowing is the Start

June 28, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I needed you to see me
so I could see myself
I believed your sight much stronger
than mine own
your capabilities
empowering my own evolution
but I realized
you do not yet see yourself
with your own eyes
and the world has us both
more so than we believed
but alas, there still arises hope
because now we know

Filed Under: Mercy, 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.

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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