Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Trauma

Pressure

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Ran from too many lectures and pressures, back pressed to the fire exit doors

Jump through so many hoops just to stay level and settle scores

while you act as if you walk across rose pedaled floors

I see your gestures-

Sequestered by your suggestions and measured questions you press me for

then stoking my ego as if you know what I’m destined for

though you treat me with the same love I got arrested for

you rob me of it-

yea yea I’m special

I’m ghetto

a rebel

I revel at revolting

but that’s only before the ship tips over

I got this chip on my shoulder

it’s hard to keep from getting colder

besides what’s a heart on a sleeve when I’m frozen?

I know the gift I behold only emboldens

if struggle is the route for exposure, then I’m the chosen

so if you live in a glass house, better stick to skipping pebbles in the ocean

but you are what you throw, and rocks are corrosive

I’m sending my notice

I’m coming world, in case you don’t know it

my belief system is growing

my passion symptoms has me glowing

my peers say that I’m showing

fears dissipating each moment

the portrait I portray doesn’t betray me no longer

I’m only getting stronger

the longer I’m holding on

better sound the alarm

unless you’re counting on karma

but I’m shrouded in armor

that won’t allow you to harm me

or down me like insoluble salts

I’ve drowned out your intolerable taunts

me and the mirror have held countless invaluable talks

I know where I’m headed

I know where my head is

I know my direction

a piece of coal doesn’t die stressing

it sheds into a diamond, and a diamonds defies, it doesn’t digress

so walking within this mine has been my test

as long as I could come out on the other side, where I can shine best

only thing left, is the pressure of your judgmental foot on my neck!

Formatted Function

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Function is a formed matter of perception

function can’t deal with dysfunction

nor can it heal it

it can only acknowledge it

to better identify itself

or seek to make it like “itself”-

uniformed

which may yet become

another form of dysfunction

Societal Farmers

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Take a look at who you process

those innocent kids thrusted into

statistics

poverty

and trauma

then grew up

after coping with minimal help and understanding

but you did understand us!

At least enough to categorize us into statistics

before we had any choice in the matter

and yet you still sent us away

with extreme prejudice, without prejudice

throwing away the key

even though you knew where I’d be headed

you sounded no alarm

you shepherded me towards harm

I see, I was born to a farm

statistics was just me being forewarned

Chained Change

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Prison is a unique walk

that is,

if you’re looking to grow and mature

because making it through should be an accolade of itself

it is the physical boundaries of self determination

and self actualization

versus

self sabotage

and self annihilation

and the walk of growth and maturity in prison

almost never happens in the beginning

you have to go through that obligation to darkness

to achieve that opportunity for change

its actually surreal

when the world sees change as a demand

which it constantly stifles

yet sentences you to its quarters

as if it is a cleansing process

all go through and inherit without strife or struggle

but in prison,

change is a reward of long, hard fought battles

that end in many personal deaths

manifesting itself for you in the illusively ending war

as a right,

and if you take it’s hand,

it becomes a matter of how much of you is there left

to even bother taking it up on it’s offer,

unknowning what you have to offer

or even how and where to start

after seeing the truth of humanity

all concentrated in one area

the cost of change comes with

disorientation

survivors guilt

and PTSD in here,

what does yours come with?