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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Mercy

Set me free 

August 12, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Set me free from this jail
Set me free from this cell
Set me free from this hell
I wanna be free to excel 
I wanna be free to accel
I wanna be free to exhale..

Filed Under: Inside, Mercy, Spirit, Trauma

Eyes Open

July 21, 2017 by Russell Wardlow 1 Comment

Eyes open with no view in here

Hate fumed with the many hues in here

Closed minds with no room in here

The putrid perfume of doom looms in here

Time stole my dreams, no Martin Luther here

Pictures of my ex-stowed away like souvenirs

Lockdown, lights out

Loved ones barely write now

My sons are riding bikes now

My ex and baby mama got new dudes that they like now

Out of sight, out of mind

Out for mine, alpha mind

Make fire from the alkalines, just to cloud my mind

From these guys with their hand signs pantomimed

I’m dazed in this maze from my ways but I’ve paid the for the price

But dear Lord, I only feel safest at night.

 

 

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Mercy, Trauma

Prison Became Part of My Story

July 14, 2017 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Prison became a part of my story
That would start up my story
I’m talkin about my journey to glory
Not the gurney before me
Because I was the dead walkin
now I’m dying to live
I’m more for ted talkin
Reachin out and tryin to give
I was a kid lost in this world
Caught in a maze of lessons
Now I have kids caught in this world
Lost in a maze of questions
Ironic, the height of my rise
When I was brought to my knees
Iconic, the life in my eyes
When every cough and a sneeze had me nauseous and weak
My new vocational reach
Is motivational speech
Because that pain that’s in you
Is the pain that’s in me
But rain brings change and re-news
So you can shift from blame and aim at your peak
In every way you unique
Everyday is a feat
So my way is to speak
To make a way for the weak, to make a way thru their week

Filed Under: Inside, Mercy, Trauma

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

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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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