Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

Trauma

Live Yours

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We all crave to be on top instead of below or on the side which we deem as a consequence

but every topping is still a side, like condiments

we can’t keep measuring our lives to someone else’s accomplishments

the standard is you, besides whose to say in your life those things would be considered accomplishments

take pride in your individuality, don’t flock to a common sense

because if you never agree with the consensus and yet you still put up, those are hard blows to your confidence

we all have our own paths and our own struggles

so why would you base your life on the model of someone else while still, being plagued by your own troubles

see, there’s one Russell…even though there’s more than one Russell

when leaves die, they rustle

when feathers don’t flock together, they ruffle

when life puts you in a corner, you rumble

when I say Young Russ, that’s us!-Young in Spirit, Resilient Under Stressful Situations-that’s not just Russell

But I seek to Rise Under Soulful Soil Eternally Living Liberated

That’s Russell, not anyone else that I view at a distance

see, there’s more than one Russell, the next one may stand for something completely different so if we have the same name, then what makes the difference?

experience…is the only real description

what I’m saying is, no one else’s experiences can make you, and your name doesn’t make you but you make your name and create the destination to where each experience may take you we all may have a different God that we pray to

but prayer in all religions still wield the same prelude

looking for an answer, looking for some help

looking in the mirror not reflecting but looking for yourself

looking for forgiveness or looking for some stealth

looking for attention, and looking for some wealth

looking for some love, but you can’t love yourself

so you pray for others more because you place Your value in everyone else

but you think what you being is unique, you real huh

that’s why you celebrate the reason why you or your homies can get killed huh

you got the formula, you grown beyond that enfamil huh

you scared to be yourself, your hood ain’t just a family, its ya shield huh

you probably still get offended when you hear something real huh

if it don’t match with how you view your lies and how you feel huh you

acting like you don’t feel huh you still sticking to the same code that made him squeal and him take a deal huh

acting as if you was just clapping to get a meal and pay ya bills huh

get a grill, you think you concealed so you conceal huh

but those straps became embodiments of how you really feel huh

lost and lonely, scared and only living for the appeal so you pop a pill squeeze the peel then peel huh

you admire athletes so you run the streets like its the field

huh even Kaepernick had to lift the curtain on what was real, so he kneeled, you’d die before you’d take a knee, and that’s why these cops is upping they kills huh

you say you don’t shit where you eat, but what you call home is the kill zone, but you harder than steel huh?

you stand as a man a part, but you been following ever since you joined

say you following your heart, but you’re led by a corrupted mind and your groin

I know you loyal, crazy and insane

so you might get right back out and do the same damn thing

then wonder why, you thought you got smarter but nothing has changed

in the end, you can’t put it on anyone else, following suit instead of experiencing your own lane damn, aint that a shame

all that idolizing and only yourself to blame

I’m Just Being Honest

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I’m just being honest tho honestly all honesty isn’t truth

its just what I see from my point of view

its just things I tend to make up

but how can I read a face thru disguises or makeup

I try not to run like your features peering thru wet glass or makeup

cuz those moments I stay we have a break thru and the best make up

diatribes that turn to dialogue, we mesh up

look we human we both messed up

my motto everything isn’t tomato tomato and if u make it to tomorrow then respect the past, or it’ll all catch up

there’s alotta broken promises bridges trusts and relationships I have to hash up

but today its seems people can just move forward with a hashtag

so I wonder if its even worth directly confronting those past issues because the world is moving that fast

beyond the old things that the farthest thing behind, that may serve to remind of any moment

in time is a back pack

holding tested knowledge and lessons learned now they can learn on the go so they may not be doing that bad

or maybe I shouldn’t judge the surface and assume pain lurks deep beneath hidden like it does with me

I can see the fracture, it resembles the same inconsistent way people call themselves getting in touch with me

going back and forth reaching out acting as if I need their company

when in reality they need some from me

you can never fabricate the wrinkles in every piece of fabric, the irony

is that you can see clearly when you step back taking your feelings out of it entirely

realizing you’re in prison but you’re not the only one stuck in the same place going thru pain stunted growth not growth spurts

feel worse in the cold burr

of the night winds dealing with pride stuck in your molar

the wisdom in u is facing the fact that your soul hearts

eclipsed from being able to see why or even look at any reflection of the truth flared like its solar

tho you struggle with your girls or your guys, with the guise of being the one soul that’s supposed to console cuz all u know and your known as an ex-trovert

but any peace of mind is borrowed cuz internally u feel like a lon-er

fixing everything but yourself cuz misery loves company but company continues to get closer and those around u start picking up on the fact that your in need of some kind of closure but u don’t want to expose your

hand, so u fade to the background making up excuses to resist any further exposure

they call and pry while u deny trying to rely on stealthy composure

here it is so many years later and nothing has changed besides the morbid fact of u getting older

and your head hangs lower

eye bags, starring into your iphone or ipad-

and your back has a bulge as u try not to divulge your load within your posture but you’ve been

carrying like a boat, a bulk of baggage upon your shoulders

every pebble you’ve kicked and rock u thrown molded into a bolder

now there’s nothing light enough left around for u to disregard so evading tactics are becoming bolder

u don’t realize that this is the byproduct of dealing with the symptoms and not diagnosing the root

suddenly u respond to every question asked as if every finger is pointed at u and u start spilling things out that u know is just bullshit from a secluded deluded and jaded point of view

then u call it being honest, tho honestly all honesty isn’t truth

looking back at my past

it seems u will never forgive me, cuz u can’t get beyond all that

I swallow my pride, tall glass

u only remember the bad like there was never no good, frequently missing calls whenever I dial

your number, I question if I should cal back

tell me what do u call that

u said u was riding, but now u don’t know where u going u say u just want your car with the onstar back

I get it, I know that its hard but I was hoping you’d hang on like a guitar strap

crypted messages when I tell u I love u instead of saying it upfront, I was merely protecting myself but I know I regret it but I hope u understand, I hope u get it, I’m indebted but I hope u forgive all that

I try and try to tell u I’m sorry, but u never pay attention

never stay and listen

yet forever stray and mention

my mistakes and only state dissention

only make decisions

that u believe will keep u safer, with me staying at a distance

but all your relationships end the same so tell me what’s the difference

pain cures cuz love heals, becuz love reveals what pain conceals so u know pain cuz u know love

but right now u not given up no love

I say I’m not given up, to only receive a response within your cold shrugs

wit a big chip on your shoulders, come on grow up

we grown up

we both got pride, po’ up

how can we say anything but goodbye, showing me your back like centers trying to post up

u play me to your walls like a poster

I try to create a space for us to sit down like a coaster

because standing firm keeps us from getting closer

keeps us from getting closure

we only getting colder

we argue religiously like its kosher

like its our culture

full-disclosure

the more we fight the more it feels like your walls open

like nostrils over a cup of folgers

I wonder if u ever notice

I feel u testing my limits, although pushing creates resistance, these intense moments mirror Your selfies, u seem more in focus

and I’m working on trying to be more present

its just that we teeter on the edge kickin our feet like we seated on the bottom of the moons crescent

and while we’re up here and on edge, I guess its still a beautiful view

I think u like the excitement in fighting, inside u are a titan plus your furrowed eyebrows look beautiful two

its hard to hate u when your’re angry

because its as if I’m observing a Renaissance painting

I’m learning more the more we rendezvous, a natural renegade feigning

a reluctance to the energy spent in love yet u get off from complaining

I see clearly now that that’s your love language

a foreshadowing show of your barriers fading

ridiculing my past was a mask for the fear of the future we’re facing

You never imagined yours being coupled with another, sometimes I wonder how u never cease to amaze me

my 4 seasons for a reason becuz you always change me

Black Man with White Confidence

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Black man with white confidence

black man with white competence

black man with white common sense

Black man with white consonance

Black man on a white continent

black man with black consciousness

black man with white accomplishments

black life like condiments

on a white plate with corporate ambiance

I think I need to change my audience

maybe too much slang in my audio

I dream too much about an Audi tho

now u see me, then Adios

pick a different topic Russ

nope, I rather ruffle feathers

the audacity of being bold and black

especially because I’m a felon

I’m best friends wit the best white people

my other friends don’t understand white people

I got white friends that think black is swag

ignorance is bliss, imagine that

I been living two different lives

I been looking with two different eyes

both sons half me and white

so I’m still scared if they seem them lights

pause a moment for tamir rice

past traumas, can’t sleep at night

all I seen I can’t unsee

I used to never know the magnitude

of how I looked from other people looking at me

but I had to change my attitude

cuz I learned that there are always people looking at me

I got a voice, and now I’m trying to use it

because if I stay silent then I am useless

and theres no difference between white and black

but fear keeps us too ignorant from analyzing that

–

I always been an activist at heart, like a starter kit

rebel like I’m Spartacus

fingers touch my palm and wrist

cuz I only used to ball my fist

wasn’t much for politics

until I seen the parlor tricks

then I seen the Moses side, had to find my part in it

I was living subsidized, in and out apartments

in need of escape so I saw with Harriet Tubman eyes, but conquered by these parliaments

life blows had me pulverized, but I’m still defying Parkinsons

crack my knuckles, arthritis, damaging my cartilage

kill dreams and take my rights, maybe whispered in their caucuses and now I have sons to rise

pray they wont be carcasses from the cough of a cops cartridges

–

Prison made me prejudice

but my best friends and support system are mostly white, even my sons mothers but prison made me prejudice

try putting a curmudgeon of different crimes, cultures, colors and contain them in

one circumference forcing them to be cordial with each other

yea prison made prejudice

because I not only have to pay attention to materials but physical colors and

customs combined with cordoned off corners and coordinated politics enforced

with a communal consequence

I swear prison made me prejudice

because I have to deal with the Mexicans that hate blacks behind their backs, the swastikas on white people worn as tats,

the fact that whites and Mexicans have a pact if there’s an attack, along with the staff that over reacts to areas with a mass of blacks so its common sense

that I can never let my guards down with any confidence

on the defensive is my regular state of consciousness

separated from society, with an endorsed separation from other cultures entirely, this double

jeopardy jeopardized me with consequences of my consequence

no lie, I feel prison made me prejudice

and even racist at times

with the disproportionate time-

given, with records that don’t qualify

that I can visually quantify

and seeing all these tattoos scribed

with white pride and brown pride

but if I venture to study my history and show black pride

it seems im outfitted with another crime

c.o.’s and administration, I feel as if they have ties

with the other sides

picking sides

because their methods of compromise

that somehow always ends up with black peoples demise

american history all over again, what a surprise

sinister systems synchronized

segregation optimized

slavery ended, so now prison lives aren’t sympathized

this is not statistical intel, this is something that you’d have to experience to describe

this is my life

if I had to pick a word to define

I’m institutionalized

inside of these institutional lies t

he things I go thru and witness with my own eyes

in the wrong area at the wrong time it would’ve costed my life

because everyone has a home they wanna get back to or this is their home so situations can quickly turn into me myself and I

these sides that are coerced to keep the prison running smoothly would say a few lives over many for the sake of control is a necessary sacrifice

yea I’m prejudice

its the only way I can survive

because in here when u look at me you starring at more than the color of my eyes

its better to be handicap than blind

besides trauma, losses, drama along with the many connotations subscribed, add a necessary prejudice and partial racism to the list of my titles after doing this time

on the bottom line

because I’ve lived as less of a person and more a subject subjected to bottom lines

ever since prison industries became private and monetized

and the healthcare commoditized

yea prison changes, it changed me

it infected my disconnection with gangrene

so all those things I had to cut off only served to further chain me

maybe more people should see that certain consequences perpetuate added consequences and they’d be more apt to change things

and less quicker to cage me

on a personal note, I still know more than a few good white people

though prison has me seeing them as white people

but I have black friends with different views because the truth is they never understood or seen good white people

so feel free to judge, but steer clear if we judge u back

prison changed and made me prejudice, socially I may be worse off, now imagine that

Paper People

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Being paroled has to do with time served and remorse.

The only flaw in that is most of our acts of remorse is voluntary and not put on record

so its a matter of what we say vs what they choose to believe.

Remorse and Contrition is only valid within shallow detached parameters they set-

which are narrow vague and barely effective programs

and avoiding misconduct reports

based on petty rules inconsistently enforced

depending temperament of C.O.’s

hey don’t hear about our community outreach

future goals

educational achievements

bridging parental gaps

mending relationships

volunteer peer guidance tutoring and encouragement

coordinating inmate ran religions and clubs

nor of my friend that secretly takes a vow of silence on the anniversary of the victim of his crime

he feels it

but they’ll never know.

They rather read a paper

not the person.

Pushing soulless unacclimated programs

which build walls between us and the walls.

We wait behind

We aren’t disconnected

Paper is the disconnect

They are disconnected.

Who Are People, But For Their Relations And Relationships?

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“Who are people, but for their relations and relationships?”

What if you were told that for a certain number of years, that you wouldn’t matter, that you would barely be seen, heard, touched, acknowledged, or remembered?

That you’d almost cease to exist in the minds and eyes of those that once knew and loved you, let alone the whole world?

Basically your whole existence would become null and void,

a black hole of sorts.

How would you deal with that reality of not mattering and being the equivalent of a ghost- transparent and melancholy in memory, starving for attention?

That reality is a slow death, because all we know and consider as life is that which we see, interact, and connect with.

That time given of non-existence, is a coffin, with a person inside banging, screaming

“I’m not dead!”

yet unheard, and left alone.

Now add the constructs of distance, time constrained and procedurally scrutinized visits, some visits non-contact which serve to slowly cut off emotional ties cruelly, and monitored phone calls that end with the reminding of your communicational mortality.

What you have, is a life clinging to the scarce hope of relevance and love, before their mind tilts on the edge towards survival with only animalistic instincts, away from human emotion and bonding, due to inhumane practices in prison of limited contact.

So my challenge to you is-

if you have a loved one incarcerated,

Consider what your shelf life would be before you imploded from lack of love and relevance, then strive to reach out before that shelf life runs its course and be consistent.

By sacrificing a little of your time and comfortability, you will help them remember that they are loved and they matter.

Because a mind without relations and relationship,

is not the mind of a better person.

That mind is ailed and weak, suffering because that person has been separated from the very reasons we live and value life.

Therefore, being released back into that same society will not automatically be a better experience, it’ll be confusing, too fast, and hard to trust.

After abandonment, loved ones won’t look the same in their eyes, nor their deprived minds and hearts.

We can all stand up, but besides taking a stand, the hardest stance in life, is Understanding.

Put on our shoes for a sec, now what do you see?

Now, can you deal with that view?

Can You Live Without Freedom?

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Can you Live without Freedom?

If not, then the question is,

Are you Free?

Since you breath, think, and feel,

then naturally you exist,

meaning you are only alive,

not that you have Lived.

What is Living worth to you?

What does Living mean to you?

So I ask, what, or how much would you sacrifice to find Tru Freedom and Happiness?

Also within that freedom,

you finally know and capture real love and contentment with life.

Or, would you rather to just be safe-

comfortable not risking what you already have regardless of whatever fulfilling unknowns you could gain along the way?

So, are you truly free and happy?

Are you willing to be?

Maybe you rather complain about the repetitive nature of disappointment you fall prey to, making no real hard moves to change your reality, because you fear the price that it may bear with it.

Tru Freedom is fearful.

Fear sent me to real prison,

being too stuck in my ways to brave another path outside of my sight and knowledge.

Tru Freedom,

what does that mean?

What would that look like? Do you even wanna know?

To contemplate flight, you would have to understand what has you grounded.

So to contemplate Freedom, you have to understand what has you imprisoned, what has you doing time?

Is it solely internal, meaning just you? Or is it external, the weight of other’s judgement? Perception? Religion? Relationships? Love? Morals? Values? Work? Family? Life? Social Media? Societal Pressures? Expectations?

Either way, its still in your control, and the most important thing is that you realize it. Then you can find whatever Freedom means to you.

Or stop complaining and just be content if you don’t desire to work to change the conditions of the time we all face and endure.

Perspective, someone is always going through worst than you. Once you have more control over your life-the things you absorb and believe in, then share it. Once you’re Freed, then its the company you keep that helps you maintain that Freedom.

Tru Freedom is slave to Choice.

Choose to Free yourself, or be imprisoned by everyone else.

I’ve already partially escaped the prison that you’re facing,

now I’m waiting patiently to walk out of this one that you see me in,

hoping I can be a beacon for those left in my wake,

and sadly,

those on the way.

T.R.U. Freedom- is

Transcendent,

Reflective, and

Uniting.

Whatever that means to you,

grab it,

and never let go,

because the world doesn’t mind keeping you in bondage.