Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Spirit

My Mom is Harriett Tubman

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She created her own underground railroad
alluding abusive persecution
sacrificing dark man for son
escaping the enslavement of toxic love
the chains of loss
the raping lies
the beatings of regret
the whippings of judgement
the lynchings of abandonment
and at the risk of her own life

She came back time and time again
rescuing her own heart
throughout the sentences of character and place
transcending the imprisonment of emotional turmoil
an insurrection all of her own
breaking down the walls that barricaded her freedom
she came back time and time again
rescuing her heart
even when others told her to let it go
to move on and start over
that she’d be better off without her heart
her heart may be better off without her
still she trekked
and journeyed further and deeper than most will ever voyage in a lifetime


She never forgot that she was a mother
no matter what she went through
no matter how heavy the weight she bared
she came back for us
each of her four kids
the four chambers of her one heart
knowing the possibility of a chamber or two rejecting her
but she weathered each eventual heart attack
because she’d become accustomed to the battles of heart
those once foreign and now all too familiar battles, made her

She had never knew true peace
embracing each war
standing tall after the dust settled as a Goddess of War
Like Harriet Tubman, but her name is Amanda Wardlow!
the last name sounds so fitting
My Mom was just as fierce brave and courageous as Ms Tubman
and her whole life has been an underground railroad
to which may not be properly appreciated until she’s no longer around
and they will be in awe of her strength survival and willing sacrifices

She is history embodied
and a story to be shared for the many women of past and future generations
but also as a testament to the extent of human capability and resilience
because her index of love knew no boundaries
however flawed she may be
or may have been
she was human in that way
audaciously flawed to perfection
humility amongst certainty
she knows who she is
accepting she may never live to be fully understood or appreciated
and that’s what Heroines are made of.

This isn’t Over

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This is a call
for more to be invited

This isn’t just
a moment of excitement

This isn’t even a victory
because a few indictments

This was overdue
a match thrown over a trail of gas once ignited

This is a kerosene lamp tipped over
in the midst of scurrying about trying to hide it

This is what it looks like when black lives matters
because all lives matter
proof in the streets with the mixtures of cultured colors united

This is what it looks like under an umbrella of oppression
with human leftovers protesting still trying to fight it

This is what it looks like when America has been the biggest party
but some of its architecturing residents are rarely invited

This is what it looks like when the guiltiest minds turn a blind eye
and hide their thoughts behind the guise of their eyelids
acting as if they never knew or seen, with faces full of surprises

This is what it looks like when people have lived a life of compromising feeling compromised and settling no longer for compromises

This is what it looks like when the status quo is riled
and the stood on people and their allies form a league of defiance

This is what it looks like when remedies have been substituted with vices
and all content is parental consent
saturated by subliminal advertisements
geared to keep our minds idle-
worshiping idols sex and violence

Distracted from our own trials
and the vile styles
constructed to profile and corral
nonconformists and urban crowds
viewed as hostile

And pile them single file
for miles
in the same aisles
of blame and maimed with aimed projectiles of bile
labelled as chow

And we eat up those spoon fed lies like a child
looking at how we live, with fear defeat and shame aroused
every attempt shunted until we throw in the towel
all the while

Being the caulk, holding together this country’s tiles
laboring just to afford a house
or high end textures for style
just for respite from people seeing how
we really live, so maybe we’ll feel better in “outfits” of denial

Preferred sleep to an awakened state, living in doubt
of change, in chains, insane, in shame
shrouded in dark clouds
running from the past and now
tears flowing like the Nile
unable to see, what the time is

This is what it looks like
when we’ve changed the climate

This is what it looks like
when imprisoned freedoms become a mass of noncompliance

This is what it looks like
when uproar broke out from a peaceful kneel in silence
to a murderous knee taken to obstruct a peace being forever silenced

This is what it looks like
when the once small alive voices
speak out in unison from their graves as one great giant

LOOK America!
this is what “WE” look like

Now Watch and Wemember America!
because this is what “WE”
looks like

Because this is what it looks like
when the silenced have broken their silence

This is what it looks like
when allies awake face and embrace the challenge

the chemistry of change

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chemistry has three descriptions
liquid
solid
and gas
change is also a science
but in order for it to be lasting
as a liquid-
it must be ever changeable in the way that it adapts to whatever environment it exists within
as a solid-
it must be formidable and sure, absolute and objective in its resolutions and foundations as common ground, so it can be cohabited and lived upon
as a gas-
it must be colorless and for all anywhere equally, seen but unseen, physically indescribable in that it is transparent and honest

weathered it

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the dry air glittered with dust
then fires sparked
smoke rose like blossoms
as the ashes snowed
the fog draped like a grey coat
until the rain called
answered by a wind talking up a storm
but I weathered it all
and glided into the Sun’s rays
hovering my shadow
a vista adorned by an allusive rainbow
and everything was alright
for the moment

8:46

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can I please have your undivided attention?
eh mhm!
an unarmed Blackman
is actually
an armed Blackman
just by standing
you ARE
bearing Arms
Blackman
black
standing for
insidious mischievous dangerous inept depraved savage and more of a nefarious act than
a noun, when you describe a human
as a Blackman
let’s go across the color spectrum
what sounds less dangerous and less aggressive
when you list people by a color perspective
lets see
what are the other selections?
white-pure
brown-earth
yellow-meek
red-passion
and then black
a pit, abyss, abysmal
fear and ignorance, just a few of the underlining narratives directed
just to keep people reacting in fear, when they come across my complexion
somehow BLACK
is now synonymous with a uncontrollable assault weapons
somehow BLACK
needs to be put down or caged WITHOUT DISCRETION
with EXTREME PREJUDICE
because of EXTREME PREJUDICE
EXTREMISTS teamed with the PRESIDENT
for WHITE society’s protection
handcuffs only leave you powerless to their onslaught
how can a human be met with so much injustice
and encroached upon crutched juxtaposition
fighting to live with the smallest means…just for a position
in a society that entails PEACEKEEPERS
keeping the PEACE as ZOOkeepers
treating the LEAST as BEASTS
like endangered SPECIES
tho its DIScrete
as we continue to DEcrease
DEplete
taste DEfeat
face DISease
Hate and DIS-ease
UNSEEing of any MEans
of FREE SPEECH
BEING
or PEACE
telling PEACEkeepers
that in order to continue keeping the PEACE
you have to DElete
US WEAPONS on the STREET
that are a THREAT
to the PEACE the PoLice, police
so you strip them of their PEACE
using your MEANS as a POLICE
patrolling STREETS with your PIECE
DISTURBING the PEACE
instead of controlling the FLEET of PIECES
tearing human beings to PIECES
making people believe
that if you eliminate US from the STREETS
that you are now an accomplished Peace Bringer
by taking the REAL WEAPONS off the STREETS
PIECE by PIECE
with a KNEE
and a PLEA
of
I CAN’T BREATHE
and you’ve yet to CEASE
while WE SEE
and HE
CEASES to SPEAK
because HE’S DECEASED
but you were JUST
BEING
that brave PEACE…keeper
the way George Floyd died
is synonymous with how our community suffers
with the foot of OPPRESSION
RACISM
PRIVILEGE
AND
PREJUDICE
on our necks from our waking hours and thru-out our slumbers
he felt helpless, then laid lifeless on his stomach
after he BEGGED
he PLEADED
he BARGAINED
he remained OBEDIENT
while CALLING out for GOD and his MOTHER
who died two years prior the same day, it makes you wonder
did she call him home from beyond to call attention
to the real pandemic, that is still going on, which our society covers?
for fear of being believed to be resisting
he ONLY FOUGHT PANIC
while his OPPRESSOR’S PROTECTED assault persisted
EVEN in CUFFS
on your belly
with a KNEE LODGED
in your NECK and BACK
CUTTING off your AIR and CIRCULATION
black man
you are still ARMED and DANGEROUS
how long do we have to cry out for help before you give us real solutions
this country has given the illusion of inclusion and evolution
because they no longer hang us
yet STILL KILLED in our OWN HOMES
how can WE CITIZENS FEEL like strangers
now let’s rewind back to Kaepernick
I see why he was attacked and viewed as an antagonist
he exposed the veils on issues white people rather not confront-
celebrating an anthem tradition
that NEVER celebrated BLACK PEOPLE’S contribution
NOR their INFLUENCE
but feel like patriots remembering dead soldiers
but what about the SLAVES
that DIED FIRST for EVERYTHING they GAVE
and lay FORGOTTEN in their GRAVES
and their DESCENDANTS
feel their EXISTENCE
is STILL in CHAINS
like NOTHING has truly CHANGED
so the pretty privileged take offense
when you come off too blunt and make sense
but let’s not Offend People
that don’t care that their privilege and silence Offends People
DISCOMFORT creates change
this ISN’T misplaced or misdirected rage
NOR is it without purpose
the purpose was showed
PAIN
HUMILIATION
GRIEF
FATIGUE
protests turned riots
they didn’t become what they opposed
THEY ROSE
from the concrete, FED UP
ENOUGH
now I don’t applaud the violence
but riots
are cries
of the silenced
MLKJr-cited
there are times when violence is the voice for the silenced
and this is not a time for kuumbyas and violins
this is a time for Social Status Quo DEFIANCE
this is a time for the MEEK to take their place as LIONS
UNWAVERING faces of NONCOMPLIANCE
backed into every corner we come across
WE
have less room
WE
can’t move
WE
can’t breathe
these claustrophobic feelings so eerily familiar,
that my insides are doing somersaults-
amongst Monarch Butterflys WE’RE STILL treated like shunned caterpillars
inside of SOCIALLY STRUCTURED GENOCIDAL HOLOCAUST
how can we succeed with solely a LOVE-lesson?
when we’re stereotyped-kentucky fried
desensitized
incentivize
the prison’s rise
recidivize
gentrified
now centralized
into subdivisions
we’re SUB-sectioned
and we take the daily SNUBS as TOUGH LOVE and let them-
treat us like monetary bottom lines, problems, and momentary headlines
sensationalized for just the instance-
cloaking the truth of the ‘tolerable cruelty’,
unchecked in the unaffected’s perspective
displaying the fractured whole of our existence-
instead of engineering generational inclusivity and evolution
we become PRISONERS of the moment
NOW EVERYONE is in PRISON-
so how can we ever hope to be freed
when that key
was swallowed the moment those in denial of their PRIVILEGE
CHOSE NOT to LISTEN
the voiceless are NOT YET FREED
so the voiceless WILL SPEAK
because the voiceless STILL BLEED
while the voiceless PLEAD
and so the voiceless TAKE KNEES
but the voiceless was SILENCED WITH A KNEE!
do we have your attention now? NOW DO YOU SEE
how can we change, Capitalism shows that CHANGE isn’t CHEAP
America is slow to CHANGE because CHANGE isn’t FREE
but the first action for a CHANGE, should be a CHANGE of SPEED
so there will not be another 8minutes and 46seconds neglected of those in PAIN AND NEED

just a moment

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I’m depressed right now,
oh well, nana booboo!
its only temporary after all, and it has purpose!
don’t try to label it beyond what it is
and tell me how long it should last
that’s all a matter of conjecture
or my personal choice and preference
and it momentarily suits the occasion
though you prefer me diagnosed
I am my own cure!
eh mhm,
I am One wholed part, R.U.S.S.
Resilient Under Stressful Situations
depressed isn’t my title
it’s just my moment!
a choice I made
a losing of self to which we’re all entitled
it has purpose
it allows me to experience something that would relate to someone who needed the kinship and company
or may need it
not some doctor that needed the validation of degree and expertise
or a hypocrite that needed the opportunity to judge just to mirage their own insufficiency
familiarity is comfort
I embrace what I go thru
how can you help, remedy, and assist in my liberation from a condition, that which you have yet experienced
or may have involuntarily caused due to your inaction
and lack of genuine care
I may or may not be depressed again
its just a feeling,
we all feel…I assume
but once you’re strong enough-
like I’ve become,
you realize it’s all really just a choice,
so regardless of what the feeling is
I’ll embrace it boldly
and be all the better on the other side
I’m not afraid to feel weak
it’s a moment
and once it has passed
I’ll live strong
so get those fucking doctors
medications and labels the fuck away from me!
I said I’m good!
believe me the first time