Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Trauma

Expendable

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is not life worth living for?
then why hast thou punished my effort
fore I have been
as nature has nurtured me to become
a hunter
void of a gatherer
therefore I did
with what I had
and created opportunity to live
since chance was seldom provided
but you call me criminal
because I defied your ever-changing rules
well, riddle me this

who am I?
unapologetic rebel
relentless revolutionary
resilient seeker
radical resolve

where am I?
excluded
secluded
isolated

what am I?
alienated
cast out
black sheep
scapegoat

why am I?
because everyone
doesn’t fit the big picture
the servers or served
though to give service worth
there must be a service to work
this is a life-sentenced I was served at birth
by prejudices that cheapened my worth

now how can this still be,
in the land of the free?
‘I don’t know, you tell me…’

When is Enough, E..?

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cops
immune to presumed guilt
criminals
immune to presumed innocence
justice goes to the cuff’er
not the cuffed
now ain’t that some stuff!?!
prosecution-
a synonym of a sad hymn called
“persecution”
but when is enough, enough?

Mental Warfare

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I ran into a barrier of some sort
falling down from the brunt impact
surprise and pain blended like a cocktail
by cause of reflex, I began rubbing at my smarting forehead
as if checking to see if it was still intact
composure slightly regained
and the ebb of collision waning
I began looking up, to my surprise
there was nothing there, but air
after standing up,
I walked towards the former point of impact
reaching out, unsure now
as if a perfectly clean glass sliding door faced me
and I an unknowing bird
insecure by the lesson learned,
of blunt impact
I couldn’t proceed any further
unable to feel a barrier, but my body just stopped
as others looked at me confused, obviously
they walked with ease beyond where I had been stuck
I then became a spectacle, and fears became realized
as what lied in front of me came into view
I was unable to get myself to step foot in the parking lot of my freedom
from beyond this prison structure
see, I was just recently released, so to speak
I was free
but my mind wasn’t
and my imprisoned mind wouldn’t allow me to gather or proceed
any further
until I released it as well
fear was my first prison
and the longest lasting one
what is freedom with fear, but a cycle
and my yesterdays were doomed to repeat themselves
for the first time, I’ll say it out loud
I’m ready freedom, release me fear
I don’t need you holding me back any further
there is much to more ahead to gain
with this new confidence awareness and drive,
I stepped foot in the parking lot
and the rest, will be history

A Country of Sharecroppers

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who is the modern day slave?

not just one sentenced to structured captivity
because prison is encapsulated relativity
but the one that has been duped by his story
or knows not of their history
the slave has endured a psychological damage that has numbed their sensitivity
all things considered internal, does not always show visibly
because the modern day slave is still quite a specimen physically

but a closer look at their American history, as their memories begin to crest
all things said and denoted in jest
unknowing of the day ahead
and the days to come next
for duress
has been found in their flesh

whereas the slaves typical stress
is where a need for survival intersects
with governmental interests
and home is made into a traumatic nest
as their day begins and ends in the minds reflections of death

because in their American History
reigns a tyranny
on umbrellas of misery
and a name is made holiday
a day is made celebration
a place is made memorial
all in the aftermath of death-

where an unequal life is an apparent victory
remembering is constantly traumatic
forgetting is because of trauma
realizing is traumatic
ignoring is because of trauma
and avoidance is from the traumatized

adopting
re-associating
assimilating
and conforming are acts of TRAUMA

to acknowledge these things is traumatic
a form of mental slavery
that I can never shake
and has yet to be collectively shook

the chains have been chinked
where completely breaking has been on the brink
while still within them we shrink
the best action made on its behalf is the courage to think
on the pain unresolved as daily hope is a sea to which we sink
and die a thousand deaths before we blink

yes, slavery is more expansive than a plantation
it is an idea
a mentality
a system
a governance
and from generation to generation

its blood paved the roads we drive
erected the buildings we occupy
forming the economic pedestal Americans realize
and as far as it being abolished
extinct
reconciled
healed from
and forgotten
this is a far cry

the historian, Charles Drew said,
“you don’t have to be actively involved in the system to derive at least the psychological benefits of the system”
this country benefits from the system of slavery
and its victims do NOT

their country looks at their suffering like voyeurs
as they beg for what should be expected and owed
evicted from what should be owned and inherited
march and bleed for what should be a guarantee of all
and celebrate their holidays alone
no one idolizes dark skinned deaths that built this country
yet embrace the benefits with gusto
this land of law and order
crafty with its legal language and penmanship
with savvy quills and quips
never made it so slavery will no longer exist
but industrialized prisons so that it would persist
sharecroppers manage from a distance, so no one is around to admit
that if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, then the title fits

and THAT is the truth of this country
still being built in filth benefitting from ongoing slavery

Sometimes You Gotta Hurt Feelings, to Heal Hearts

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even in relationships
friendships sparked
a connective camaraderie forged in the fire of external forces molding the new union framed by familiar experience and circumstance, making stainless steel of fraternal bonds
that have now become cemented in stone like the Sword of Excalibur
and only those who are worthy could ever pull from its reservoir
but this is a higher form of pending dependency
having someone, turning into needing someone, turning into needing something
where the nuance of fragility and shame can fatally determine the cohesiveness of longevity, shared between you and someone, or something
setting a ship to sail the tumultuous waves of the sea where sunken ships, have, by way of currents, long given up on dreams of docking landmass and so they cling to rock bottom
as if disaster has now become common place, a new home of sorts, where existence barely survives

and I said to him
but that’s relationships
sometimes you gotta hurt feelings, to heal hearts

because a heart
even the biggest kind of heart that rivals the size of a hot air balloon can equally be debilitating
it can be crippling
it can handicap you, and them
because it is empowering, emboldening, influencing, and enabling
towards the wrong direction
because of the confliction
of decisions
with the intent of good intentions
which by default grant permission
in the occasion of afflictions
imprisoned by addictions

that act as prescriptions
decrypted with small imprints and printed inscriptions
and let respite, rest, relief, rescue, remedy, and escape be a few of its plenty descriptions
which grips the attention with tension, until you are tense and suspended
symptoms-
reality insurrected by delusionary and guilty remnants, from chemical films and pulpy residue that sentences the senses to narcoma prisons
this is a mental limbo and an emotional linchpin
that they drift and exist in
a conviction, free from eviction
because all is done to make due by rents end
even before they make rent, tell me how that make sense
so when they ask for something
it peaks your antennas, because we all have agendas
and can become good pretenders
contending for favored endings
and their intent is always tented
entrenched in, the trenches of entrenchments
riding the highs into a spiritual transit
that transmits
transfers
of trance states
which damage,
vision and proper perspective vantage
dementia experienced from delirium
by extensive intense instances
of accelerated dopamine surges that converge into functionary impotence
stuttered steps, stuck, uttering garbled sentences
all because you couldn’t break a heart, to mend a heart

the contradiction of needed contradictions
in order to take the lesser of two evils and consequences
and your permission, your assent becomes consent
because you feel bad
because you feel responsible
you feel guilty, because you also feel empty
so you get it, you feel them
in more ways than one, you are them
now don’t forget I’m talking about addiction
we all have one or some
it comes in many forms
so you act as you would want to be acted towards
and you would want understanding
you would want patience and help
though you have no real clue how to help yourself, so how can you even possibly know how to help someone else
and it all results in one of a few actions
split into factions of half fractioned and half fractured satisfaction
from the reward of fatal attraction
so you either project onto them by way of judgment
or you discard and avoid them by way of distance
or you relent and enable them by way of giving into exactly what they ask for
but since it’s on your terms, you make sense of it
you’re in control, so it’s different
you offer instructions and believe you are doing something right
and they say “oh thank you, thank you” and give you all these praises, phrases and promises that they plan to keep
because in their moment of need, ironically their dependent mind is at its clearest
without the dosage of varied drugged osmosis and symbiosis of parasitic hosts until they’re comatose, shells of themselves or ghosts
and at this moment the crippling grippers are free from their system
so they sound very reassuring, convincing you in every way that they know how
because they too believe they have control and don’t want to admit
that they are an addict
and you don’t believe them, but you pity them like you pity yourself
so you hope…but that hope has no confidence
like your own lacking
you see, looking at addicts is hard because they resemble broken parts of us that we hide beneath surface, feeling like any more tugging this or that way from life could be the last push into oblivion and beyond
and we wanna try to save them, but we don’t see ourselves with capes when we gaze and stray from the mirror before we see any deeper than we wish to realize
instead, we see ourselves on a leash
and how can a dog on a leash, bark at another dog off of theirs, and tell them to come back, hook yourself back in
I know you’ve lost your mind but mind is master
freedom is too much for you, get back here with me, just like me, because you can’t handle it
restrain yourself
contain yourself
refrain yourself
until you can regain, retrain yourself
embrace the pain and shame of self
until you’ve drained yourself
stare blankly at your veins, you and your vane self
or
wake up the next day bravely, accept wherever you’ve stained yourself
campaign your self

I honestly don’t even know how I was planning to end this
addiction seems endless
this is a rollercoaster
I can’t architect the twists and turns
I can only ride or watch as they are being ridden
and I know attempting to help a friend or family that is rooted in addiction is a long road
truth has to speak boldly to save a life
I just wanted you to know that it’s never just one person that you are saving
if by some measure you embrace that, save yourself as well
then you will save lives

sometimes you gotta hurt feelings, to heal hearts

What You See isn’t What I Got

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I hate you America
I hate you because you made me hate myself
I hate you because you make me suffer to feel included
I hate you for my childhood
things endured I didn’t know of
little and innocent at first
living and stumbling over obstacles you constructed
growing and developing under forces I couldn’t possibly fathom
a system created limiting a single mother’s resources and support whom served your country!
jailing her attempts at crying out for help
a model of success so great, you mass produced
this system placed me lost in a sea of misplaced and displaced kids
replaced within monetarily incentivized families
some more worst off than I was before I became their check
after all I’ve seen, how dare you tell me to believe in the American Dream
I see your true nature, but I am too small to be heard
America is an extrinsic valuator
truth is, America masquerades silently as a tolerated necessary evil
you wager participation
rewarded by opportunities of endless riches
and illusions of limitless freedoms
people cooperate blindly
hypnotized by promises of possibilities
while the nefarious systems subjugate and take from you unwittingly
staking hubris over humanity
choosing possessions over people
pain alleviated by payment
America is like dealing with the Devil
all the grand excesses and successes followed by the small fine print of-
sacrificing your soul for a heart too busy to consider people outside of your own rations pursuits and struggles
and being able to rationalize your preferences of self
a heart appearing full by temporary and circumstantial desires in the guise of love
a deceptive agreement granting the ability to practice any religion
fooled by seemingly infinite freedoms
and invisible yet cleverly written limitations
reinforced by structured imprisonments and impediments
while taking the intrinsic incentive of impacting true change support and community
negating the collective and cordoning off consciousness
following red herrings
while walking within redlines
until red in the eyes from the incessant overnight flights to and from the obsession of acquisitions
America, you blind your followers and muffle your competitors
choosing your spokesman methodically
and citizens unknowingly are members of the biggest cult on earth
that acts as an umbrella over all other ‘identity and idea’ cults of liberty and justice for some
because truly you know, all things aren’t created equal
after all, you crafted and created it to be as such
and for this and many more things, I hate you
you are the epitome of intolerable cruelty
only incentive changes you
strategy is your heart, not compassion
no matter how rich you can make me
money isn’t everything
but you tax my every second
so it is damn near impossible for me to believe that it isn’t
because I have to work compulsively to acquire life
that hyper driven work distracts me from your cunning
too busy to see, I can only look as I drive by
because a second lost shows up when bills come due
You embody Buddhism’s Afflictions
Rasta’s Babylon
Religion’s Satan
and Egypt’s Set
citizenship with you has only ever been a contract of my soul
I do not identify with you
you delude and allure me
you suppress and oppress me
you abandon and neglect me
you infect and reject me
you are the mirage of desire
you are the token security of promise
you are the insecurity of inferiority
you are the law of shackles
you are the silver tongue of hypocrites
you are the compass of misdirection
you are the source of pollution
you are the tranquilizer of consciousness
you are the erosion of the spirit
you are the calloused heart
you are the jaded eyes
you are the poison of sugar
you are the rhetoric of misinformation
you are the instigator of hate
you are the coconspirator of injustice iniquity inequity and inequality
you are the exploiter of culture, the thief of history, and conqueror of countries
you are the deluder creating dilution, delusions, and the disillusioned
you are the inclusion of seclusion, exclusion, and excuses
you are the paragon of procured problems profited from
you are the pacemaker of profiteers and politicians
you are the platform of all illusions
and the plague of illusions peril
the plunge of civility, humanity, and one’s soul
you give birth to insanity
and here I am
because you know what?
though you are incapable of change
I love that I hate you enough to believe I can change you
I think I’m more in love with hating you than I once was with hating myself
remember that?
you created me
and I would love to be the reason you fall in love with hating me
more than the energy you put into allowing me to do it for you
you’ll remember me one day
not as a Patriot
but as a Patient sick enough to save the Doctor