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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Trauma

Deep-end

April 8, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

if I fall in this deep end, don’t blame me
I can’t swim in this deep end, don’t blame me
if I drown in this deep end, don’t blame me
I’m going down in this deep end, don’t save me…

Filed Under: Trauma

Scribing My Pulse

April 8, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

even as I have lost luster for life
my nerves being chilled to ice
still, I write
I write, still
as emotions have vanquished in the face of agony
rendering me a gaping void of apathy
still, I write
I write, still
when there appears to be no escape from abyss
and into the sullen darkness I drift
still, I write
I write, still
the pain in my heart as sharp as a knife
being pulled out, and driven into my side
still, I write
I write, still
writing is my pulse
when the very words I poach
as speech has croaked
and my saliva as thick as pulp
forming lumps in my throat
swallowing each moment that I choke
flared nostrils exhaling smoke
still, I write
I write, still
otherwise, this would be murder unwrote
as any lack of writing, would be as a gyrote
this would be murder unwritten
for the failure to form a sentence
this would be murder unscripted
letting the venom navigate a circulatory system snakebitten
this would be good riddance
as I failed to prevent my own ending
but still, I write
I write, still
so that presumptive storyline is fiction
and my narrative is still being written
therefore I write my redemption
end scene, as the backdrop cascades in crimson

Filed Under: Trauma

Late Night Tripping (song by WayOfLife)

April 7, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

hello?
wanna know what insanity is?
when looking inside of a chrome-plated mirror,
inside of a prison,
with low visibility-reflecting on what I think vanity is?
asking myself what humanity is
candidly wonder where amnesty is
damaging vantage I vanish like mist
inside I may panic
but manage the manic and maniac mannequin standing right here
I stammer in puddles of blood, that I cut, but ugh!
I need to bandage my wrist!

{starring up at that moonlight
project to balance my mood right
I howl at times when its too bright
war with myself, like I duel life
there’s more to me, there’s more to see..
split in two is my dual life
embrace one half of me to-night
fork in the road, I knife two sides} X2

there’s something off in my head..
I can barely see beyond red..
compare the breeze to my breath..
I can barely breathe, am I dead?
it ain’t rare to think am I dead..
I dare to dream from my bed..
illusions of my success..
I’m delusional I guess..
cuz ain’t no hope in the mess..
too many worlds that I mesh..
astral project out my flesh..
‘cuz I’m tired of feeling all this stress..
it’s hard to feel like I’m blessed..
feeling less than whole, a moon crest..

{and I get inside of myself
hide from the light, and go climb in myself
I never question in spite of myself
wasting my time asking why to myself
too many answers collide with my health
too many pill vials all piled on my shelf
all this time wasted apprised on my belt
so I stare at the sky while I fight with myself} X2

{starring up at that moonlight
project to balance my mood right
I howl at times when its too bright
war with myself like I duel life
there’s more to me, there’s more to see,
split in two is my dual life
embrace one half of me tonight
fork in the road, I knife two sides} X2

{looking at the sky…

feels like I’m in a dome…

how can I leave this prison..?

when it feels like my home…}X2

I contemplate
I meditate
sometimes I pray
I hesitate
I medicate
to regulate
then resonate
with residue

I contemplate
I meditate
sometimes I pray
I hesitate
I medicate
to regulate
then designate
a better way

and I get inside of myself
hide from the light and go climb in myself
I never question in spite of myself
wasting my time asking why to myself
too many answers collide with my health
too many pill vials all piled on my shelf
all this time wasted apprised on my belt
so I stare at the sky while I fight with myself

{starring up at that moonlight
project to balance my mood right
I howl at times when it’s too bright
war with myself like I duel life
there’s more to me, there’s more to see,
split in two is my dual life
embrace one half of me tonight
fork in the road, I knife two sides} X2

Filed Under: Spirit, Trauma

Item

April 6, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

one moment,
wanting life
the next,
could care less
chained from momentum
gravity, a force of many I quarrel
fuck it then
asked you for a way out
trapped by your answer
a time unknown not lived for others
pondering the value of selflessness
as I trek the edges of my self
letting go of me

as the wind dials
my spirit called thereafter
this body hangs up

living as it kills me
killing it living as me
it kills as living me
me living as it kills
me killing as it lives
it lives killing as me
killed me living as it
lives it killed as me

if you only knew what “it” is
which lives
and kills
as “me”
in “me”
then you’d understand
why this moment
begs to differ
from my next
because,
“it”
is
“me”
an “item”
of impermanent, permanence

Filed Under: Trauma

Hard to Give A.. (excerpt from song written by WayOfLife)

April 5, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

hard for my heart to give-a-beat
it’s hard for me to give-a-fuck
it’s hard for me to pay you mind
it’s hard for me to give-a-attention
when the state takes all my time
it’s hard for me to give-you-patience
when my body’s running out of time
I’m boutta lose my mind!

ok
I’m tryna fit this narrative that you all think of me
but it’s hard to not worry bout what my peers may think of me
will they think I’m weak?
or think I’m me?
well silly me
I think I’m weak
cuz I have not been me since the day I took a plea!

I’m tryna be
this little
middle
civil
bit of sour grapes
and pickles
with no quibbles
write my scribbles
draw my prickles
say pain tickles
while blood trickles-
drops and ripples
ice my heart, while my veins sickle
my pulse double dribbles
shhh…
shuffled mug shots
my eyes-blood shot
my mind-buck shut
no ties-what knot?
my life-hard knocks
freedom-far out
no light-dark out
hollup!

what do you think of me?
who do you think I am?
why do you think I am?
why do you think that is?
who do you think you are?

eh mhm…

you do not know me
that’s only the old me
go way you don’t owe me
I rather be lowly and lonely
while I’m dying slowly
you only
could owe me
a moment
consoling
the coldest
unfolding of poses
behold it and notice
that that was me showing
the pressure imposed-
by supposed proposals
betrayals and photos
all losing their focus
when they all get lost in the open
soaking up exposure
my battered and broken composure has swollen!
and I’m boutta go over the edge, cuz I die and I live in the moment!

and I do not neeeeeed your help
I rather go bleeeeeed myself
cuz I can not beeeee myself
cuz u want me to be someone else
gone..

Filed Under: Trauma

Just a Dream? (song by WayOfLife)

April 5, 2021 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I
dreamed
I,
could-n’t
move
last
night,
I was
trapped
in my
mind,
I think
love
is a
lie

I
dreamed
I,
had ran
out
of
time,
I was
lost,
I was
blind,
some-times
I
ra-ther
die

somethings you can’t guess
like when is your last breath
gotta live in the moment and don’t leave nothing left
‘cuz when everyone leaves you-
it feels like there’s nothing left,
feels like there’s nothing else!

yea, it feels like there’s nothing else huh?!
can’t no body help ya!
swallow all ya spit and feel it fizz, like seltzer
time will leave its marks-
count the seconds or the welts huh?!
love will let you starve-
while you beg for more helpings
but everybody selfish
misery love company but company get jealous
whisper to my shadows..
“everything you see,
keep between you and me,
‘cuz its only you and me
I’m as lonely as can be”
when I sleep is when I’m free
when I dream is when I’m me
when I think I gotta blink
you won’t believe the things I see
you won’t believe me I can see, this life is prison somebody plz set me free!

I
dreamed
I,
had a
drink
last
night,
swal-lowed
all
in-side,
just-to
feel
a-live,

I
dreamed
I,
could-n’t
move
last
night,
I was
trapped
in my
mind,
I think
love
is a
lie

I
dreamed
I,
had ran
out
of
time,
I was
lost,
I was
blind,
some-times
I
ra-ther
die

I
dreamed
I,
held a
gun
last
night
aimed it
at
my
mind,
then flew
to
the
sky

somethings you can’t guess
like when is your last breath
gotta live in the moment and don’t leave nothing left
cuz when everyone leaves you,
it feels like there’s nothing left
feels like there’s nothing else!

I’m feeling like I’m broken
but all yaw fail notice
I’m feeling like a number
I’m feeling like quota
I’m feeling like a lease
I’m feeling like a loaner
not feeling like a owner
put down like a coaster
and everything ain’t kosher
I’m feeling like a roamer
I rather be a loner
my feelings getting colder
some feelings in a coma
the rest of them just coded
and I can’t get no closure!

I
dreamed
I,
had ran
out
of
time,
I was
lost,
I was
blind,
some-times
I
ra-ther
die

I
dreamed
I,
held a
gun
last
night
aimed it
at
my
heart
then flew
to
the
sky
bang!

Filed Under: 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

  • Incited April 15, 2021
  • Wright, Wronged April 15, 2021
  • You, be You, with Us April 15, 2021
  • Oda Keke- (to be upside down and walking in darkness) April 15, 2021
  • Names Hold Weight April 15, 2021

Themes

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  • Inside
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  • Mercy
  • Spirit
  • Trauma

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