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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Trauma

For Granted

April 12, 2022 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

you don’t hear me
even though
you push me to be
heard
turning up the volume even
so that I can be
heard
while you tune past
the station
comfortable with knowing
it exists
but not experiencing
enough
to truly understand
what’s being experienced

Filed Under: Trauma

The Devil Unknown

April 11, 2022 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

the longer one lives
in their delusions
truth
takes the appearance
of hate

Filed Under: Trauma

The Noose of Knowing and Not

April 11, 2022 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

some are born knowing
and others,
born needing to be taught
the problem is
the knowers
exploit the learners
whom then learn the same
nowadays,
knowledge is a rope long enough to…

Filed Under: Trauma

Life Philosophy

April 11, 2022 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

life without a methodology
is not life
nor is any life philosophy which comes from idea
the philosophy of life is written in nature
contemplating on which is the door to that which evades us
including myself
this philosophy is also written within us
expressed externally in nature
nature mirrors what’s innermost
but a mind of ideas,
loves its ideas
and an idea is not life
nor philosophy
it is a child spawn of relativity
one who cries incessantly from an unquenchable desire for attention
an absolute parenting conundrum
because the very solution
is in the formula
but the formula is seen as the problem
or just plain unseen
because the cries are too loud
so focus on life is lost
and its message, unheard

Filed Under: Spirit, Trauma

A Dad in ’09 and ’12, a Father in ’20, Still Becoming a Man

April 11, 2022 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I was a dad
before I was a man
I’ve been a man
for less years than a father
so I’m growing with my kids

teaching what I never knew
all those years as I grew
more physical than anything else
and whoever I believed I was being
was really an unknown cry for help

and hurt people hurt…

well you can determine that for yourself
discipline shouldn’t conjure belts
that manifest welts
I was but a foster child
having no real identity, nor place
that aided and empathized with how I felt
so moments came and went
their lessons lost and forgotten
on high old dusty shelves
in the many homes I’ve entered
all which I left behind
all which left me behind
hindered injured dismembered
either me, myself, and my peace of mind

Filed Under: Love, Trauma

Prodigal Apology

April 11, 2022 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Dear Father
I’m sorry
for you know my heart
where the full extent of this is written
and known in the land that loves silence
from which it came
born from my Mother
where I will one day return
I commune with you there
yet seldom bring you back with me when I leave
and this is why I grieve

Filed Under: Love, Mercy, 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

  • Whose Mind is it Anyway June 30, 2022
  • Objects June 30, 2022
  • Same Thang, Different Name June 30, 2022
  • Optical Ill-lusions June 30, 2022
  • Hollow Symbols June 30, 2022

Themes

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