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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Trauma

I am a number!

March 7, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

living in this 10×6, 24/7, 365 x 9 1/2- 12 doing 14-20 as 78756
numerically numbing
I am a number!
I am just nothing
but something you count, but nothing you count on, just someone you count out, but I am not down for the count…
all those titles and opinions have no dominion, I’m drowning them out
tho I’m drowning right now
lately I been a downer engulfing downers
over the counter
hoping I counter
and end up on the upswing
my chin up regardless of what u must think
was a gangsta, Im a felon
was a dad, now I’m a father
I am mistake, live in it daily
I live in the open, you judge me and comment
I have more in common with all that you hiding inside of your conscience if you’re being honest
you are just like me
I am a broken promise
a hope for progress
a note that focuses on the wrongs I wrote, I right, I might just have a couple more wrongs to write, so I these poems I write might work to heal me inside!
psyche
how many numbers will u see before u think of me
all this attention seeking I guess this is what it takes for u to think of me
5 4 3…my final countdown is steady/heavy
2 1…u forgot about me already

Jesus pray for me
I hate these demons that prey on me
keep the devil away from me
keep me awake and the shovel away cuz I’m digging my grave tryna find an escape a fire scape, a higher place, in dier straight cuz my old ways, continue to rain on me
my past sins have domain on me
put a stain on me
tried relying on my genes, but im weaker than my denim and its seams, weaker than I seem, don’t wanna be seen, see, im living in my shame, I just wanna change, but these days, stay the same, I try to pray, but I can’t, lay and wait, omg! i cant relate, to, amazing grace, thru, prison gates, new, vision paints u, in a grey view, integrate, orange is the new hate suit, life takes u, in a maze, just a phase, but it still phase u, and ya past still chase u, I just wanna have renewed faith thru, and be faithful, but I’m feeling foolish like April, I try to troop and stay true, i try to stay glued, to ur pages, like cable, but without a cane, i aint abel, to make it to, page two, Lord if I changed my language, could u understand?! yo necessito, Jesus

You don’t see a person
you only see percentage
you only read the sentence
you only see the prison
but there’s people in it
you only count the numbers
overly medicated prison population, everyday we getting number
spelled the same way they prefer it, they rather increase the numbers
they only want us dumber
twiddling our thumbs, tryna keep us Stevie wonder
they try to keep us blind
windows without blinds
been living behind an open window for years and I’m still in the blind
u say freedom is thought, but my body is still in a bind
so many can do much more but they say their hands are tied
how u think I feel, while my wrist is cuffed
fighting for my freedom going fist to cuffs
what’s life, I tried to give it up, but I can’t give it up
cuz I got family that love me, sons that need me, friends that miss me, a world that forgot about me, hopefully a God that loves me and wants me to get back up
so I pick back up
my strength, a pen, some paper, several books and cd’s and a phone
ringing, hopefully u will pick that up
correcting every mistake when I lift that up
what? all that I left behind and with a six pack, buff
stronger now than I was before, I no longer mattered

Give me my freedom
haven’t I paid u my debt
u got from me taxes
I got nothing for it
plus gave u blood tears and my sweat
I got two sons
they have no dad
those days they will never forget
I swear I have changed, but I’m still in chains
have u not factored the difference
have u not factored the distance
can that not change ur decision
all I know is division
do ur laws practice forgiveness
to u ima savage in prison
no moments of pity, I never can take it, I stand on this hill, and I yell I’m alive, just to see if u hear me, then maybe you’ll see me, and maybe believe that this life that I’m living just isn’t so easy!
Give me my freedom

A number carries a life
what is a life defined by
a mistake, bad judgment, ill-advised choices, immaturity, negligence, privaledge or lack thereof, or ignorances
what about redemption?
we have 4% of the entire worlds population
yet we have 25% of the entire worlds prison population
so again
how we define a life
and how we value a life
is on trial here
our society can’t be as numb
as the same criminal minded individuals it charges as unfit because of their percieved moral numbness
Victimizers becoming victims- in a system put in place to make things right while keeping people safe is not the right way
in more ways than one, we are recreating the same problems that we punish
and if that’s the case
we will continue to section off parts of our society into ready made facilities
because our system is more geared to retrib, resti, ovr recid, rehabi
The more the better
themes of a buffet is now synonomous with incarceration it seems
so I ask u
when u see the numbers
do u see the life
or does how u feel reflect what u see?
…which may be nothing at all

was ashamed Im in prison
hated my name turned to digits
they saw the proof in the cover–so the pages diminished
and I was erased in this sentence
those preying on my downfall, actin like they never will
they also living in they scars, actin like they’ll never heal
destined to reach beyond the stars, even if by sheer will
they rather rave about the flower actin like that shit will never wilt
ohh!never kiss up, never hang my head no mistletoe
u can hate me, u can judge me, we’re identical
I got heart, like arteries and some ventricals
i had principles
never hypocritical
but was a criminal
what goes around, comes around now I’m living my reciprical
so imagine what would happen if u always living cynical
to u I been a ghost, was invisible, but now I’m visible, only thing u say is visceral
but that ain’t critical
becuz I’m spiritual
a living miracle
not metaphors, I’m literal
even if my literary lyrical

Filed Under: Inside, Spirit, Trauma

What’s the end goal of incarceration?

March 5, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

What is the end goal of incarceration? what does the public expect the inmates to be once they come back into society? The real answer, not the clean cut formal department of justice answer, because that’s just pie in the sky salesman speak. I mean what do expect a child to do if you send them into timeout for being bad, but offer no instruction nor attempt to figure out what it is within them that causes them to do those things. Do you expect change, without correcting the problem? Adults don’t need to be told the why’s but their why’s need to be understood in order to have any hopes of an improved mindframe. You don’t send a child to timeout and surround them with temptation and the things that will only serve to make them worse, you structure their punishments in order to condition a better response and behavioral change. So how do you expect an adult to change when they may come from dysfunction, and you enhance those dysfunctions by throwing them into the center of even more dysfunctional people with no real requisite or structure of betterment. How can you speak to a person that only understands and knows struggle and pain and the worst sides of life, like betrayals of love, abandonment of family, alienation of friends, no problem solving, venting with dependencies, drugs, murder, abuse of all sorts and with no real identity and a constantly changing environment that surrounds them and clouds them with neglect and a society that offers them no respect, honor or family that gangs offer yet casting them out showing only fear, denigration and disrespect with every effort to say they are lesser while providing unrealistic expectations of achievement as if it is mutually inclusive and possible regardless the conditions they developed within. How can you say you understand if you offer opinion first before an ear, if you compare your experience to mine as if you overcame despite it all. How can a person know how to forgive when all they know is blame and revenge, when society hides their truth and hands down their responsibility on everything and everyone else but themselves yet you say I should come out better and fully functioning, knowing better and cherishing what I had yet prison shows the bare naked truth of society. Separation, segregation, prejudice, racism, lies, denial, depravity, alienation, classism, judgement, unforgiving, violent, anger, fear, escapism, loneliness, abandonment, addiction need I go on, because my closet is doorless and yours is vaulted now all of a sudden since I’m in this obvious prison and you hide within your prison you act as if you can speak down to me, as if I owe you something, as if I’m so unrepairable and my sin is so much grander than yours while your precious freedom makes money off my misery, offering me false hope. The best kept secret is that I am constitutionally a legal slave and you expect me to come out without trauma and be grateful? I was raised s a state ward, with an imprisoned mother battling depression alienation addiction and a father killed by her hand while pregnant with me because of his drunken abusive episode which I never found out til damn near 18. How do you speak to that person, how do you get through to them when all you see them as and throw them in is shit? I speak to that type everyday, because I am in that shit with them, these same people that could’ve killed me not because they hate me but because hate is all they know and society tells them its their fault, so fuck it right?! When they call out and hear of a close death, a cheating girlfriend, maybe she left, or likes her power in the phone, family distant and friends are a matter of convenience but yet society says don’t come back broken because you know better, we gave you a chance to heal and find yourself even though everyone outside lives as strangers trapped within their own prisons. I’ve offered my voice to friends with heartbreaks, addiction issues, suicidal thoughts, loneliness, health struggles, relationship problems, in need of life advice and an ear because I m going through it too, so I know it, I identify, I feel them and I I’m that ear daily for the worst people society casted out, real killers and molesters. I have answers for everyone but myself and two sons that barely know my voice, their mothers holding onto past pains, my siblings growing through life on their own, and a mom transitioning from prison, but who talks to me, what do u tell me that I haven’t told the mirror already, I get more judgment than help, we all do..I heard it all so just in case you didn’t know what its like, this is a fraction of what I embrace willingly daily

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Love, Mercy, Spirit, Trauma

Love and Pain

March 5, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Love and Pain are both relationships, how can we move forward and find love, if we are still holding onto and committed to that past pain and let down? How can we find passion, purpose and meaning in things if all we rather be is comfortable? What breakthrough ever came from being comfortable? How can we ever free ourselves and find depth if all we do is run from struggle and hardships? These are the very things that shape us and give value to what we pursue and believe in, and if our belief systems are only coated in those moments when we feel the most at ease and comfortable, fearing getting truly involved because of the implications of being let down, then what do you really value besides fear? I say this because there are people I know and don’t know that are still trapped and I feel for them, because I used to be free and trapped too, but now I’m still in prison, which I don’t even see these walls anymore and I’m more free and at peace than I have ever been in my life. My scenery used to embarrass me, and I made all these concessions thinking I had to adhere to everyone else’s happiness since I’m the one in this overbearing situation…but those same things I used to struggle with out there, I’m finally getting thru with inside these walls. I mean I’m still human and struggle with love and wanting to be loved, but besides that, I don’t fear distance and being alone, I don’t fear not having anything because I’m quite content with nothing and working on myself and I even find more joy in giving to others even if I barely have enough. I live in hell and found the heaven in it. I stay engaged daily, I don’t see myself as this person that can only be hurt and let down that never let anyone down, nor do I see myself as only a screw up that has only hurt people and deserves no forgiveness because my identity isn’t in the next person but in how I can look in the mirror and keep working on making him the best person. That shit takes longer than a social media post but it sure feels good getting it out this way. I found my freedom in prison and somehow waiting to get free where so many are still in prison…life is beautiful, what a view.
Take a second to feel and embrace what it is that you feel, stop running, stop resisting, stop wanting everything the easy way, because you’ll get exactly what you put in, but don’t ask the same question afterwards. Just because technology makes communication faster, doesn’t mean it makes it easier, take time to know yourself and someone else…maybe understanding someone else’s pain will help you better see and understand your own and from there, who knows but with that knowledge-what a view!
R.U.S.S.

Filed Under: Love, Spirit, Trauma

A Circle Has No End or Beginning

February 17, 2019 by Russell Wardlow 1 Comment

A circle has no end or beginning, but it is ever revolving, and the more you travel, the more you will see what you first were blind too. So, at times I speak in circles, that way you will be able to revisit things you already were aware of, just maybe not conscious of, and you get a chance to see without blockers, so talking in circles isn’t as bad you they say
Parsing paradigms and piercing paradoxes are in someway my thought and writing style, I write perspective narratives and perspective verse poetry based from my wayward observations and experiences of Life and Imprisonment. I’ve come to see that those two experiences, while one is in freedom, and the other isn’t, both have more mirroring parallels and possibly aren’t so contrasting as they may seem. Just one population is more concentrated, and so the interactions of that population are more inflamed for lack of space and options-two things a civil society offers, but we adjust. Prison-the land of the Civilized Savages. It’s easier to question things when you add distance from the thing in question. Distance creates objectivity and room for thought.. so I think about “what if’s” a lot and the mortality of them, they speak to either a distant future or distant past, and mostly an impossibility
I believe one of the biggest “what if’s” are, what if you knew everyone’s truth, and they too, were privy of the real you? What if, everything you believed was exactly the contrar? Could you be brave enough to accept those new revelations, or would stubborness, fear, and the lack of idealism plague your growth? It takes questioning to learn more, but as we mature from our adolescent selves, ironically we question less, preffering comfort to re-construction. Somehow, the mere act of questioning is both brave and audacious, because of the way in which we cling to conventional norms and wisdoms. Conforming is the new tolerance, and individuality is the new prison, Welcome!
So here’s a question, can there be chaos without control, or control without chaos? Or simply, do they both feed off each other? We see life as if everything has an opposing force, instead of a complimentary one. Obviously, perception is reality. Along with the connotations attached to our complicated dubious and ambiguous langauge. Maybe control is chaotic, and chaos however, is a means of control. Maybe because the act of supplementing a control for chaos, creates conditioning. Yet, no control is constant, besides in the fact that it is just like life, therefore, constantly changing. We have frames, doctrines, laws, and paradigms that we use to identify and medicate the themes we come across in life, but those structures and foundations are constantly in a state of agitation, or change, as life evolves and we adapt. Therefore, control I believe, is chaotic, because we have to compliment chaos with order, it’s opposite, but does that mean that chaos is control, or does chaos merely beckon control? The latter would be obvious. Control is ever evolving and adapting, like lifes organisms and societies. In order to survive, control creates a norm, or certain conditions, so then life in itself is “Chaotic Control”-birthing a ceaseless cycle of conditioning
–
I tell her to stay
she try to go-
she try to stay
I try to leave-
like she is my tree
like she is my sleeve-
she try-on my heart
it is her size-
im wearing on her
and she wears me out-
the girls like a man
that show how he feel-
she see the girls
and see my appeal-
I try to split
banana won’t peel-
but she need a pill
because she feelin ill-
she keeping secrets
her secrets revealed-
when she get a drink
in to her gills-
there’s plenty of fish
but that ain’t the deal-
this is a pickle
but she can not dill-
what is the deal
she want me to kneel-
she try to feel
but she can not feel
so she play the field
now I’m in my feels
now I have a shield
still wondering if she’ll..
but she never will
–
do u love me, or u love me not?!
no really do u?
cuz my stomach in knots!
its just u promise a lot
then contradict with a thought
now my confidence at a loss
and u comprehend it as fault
u say its mine when we talk
like this shit all in my head?!
but all THAt I see is fog
I hear ur echoing heels
as they SLAP the side walk
I look up and ur lost
speaking my truth at a cost
what’s the point of a heart
if it only beats when its tossed
I wear it on my sleeves, maybe these sleeves should come off!
u say u love me don’t lie!
(gulp)Im drinking my pride
because I’m tryna hide
that I’m dying inside
fuck!
why should I cry?!
you just hate being alone!
u don’t know bout real love (hiccup)
ahhhh should give up
why do I even get up
stuck in my feels and all I feel is bitter
tasting the remnants of your lipstick glitter
the sweetest venom..
I secretly kiss your picture
and then I rip it
placing it in an envelope, reluctantly I send it
after I write a sentence
“only for your eyes…but I hope you dont get it”
–
she told me she love me
why won’t she cry for me
she told me she’ll never leave
why won’t she cry for me
she said she’d rather be nowhere but right here
why won’t she cry for me
she said there’s no one else like me
why won’t she cry for me
she said she has never felt like this before
why won’t she cry for me
she said she goes into a love portal when our lips collide
why won’t she cry for me
she said she feels so cold after we break away from our embrace
why won’t she cry for me
she said I’m not her first, but I am her first
why won’t she cry for me
she looks at me deep, with this question in her eyes
longing for some kind of answer
she always asks me how I feel
she wants to hear me say it
I say the exact same things she said
her look became distant
she found her answer
I didn’t notice
until she said goodbye
I reached for her, but it was too late, she slipped away
wanting things I could never give
looking for something I clearly couldn’t see
why can’t I cry for her…
I wish I could cry for her

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Love, Trauma

Her Eyes

February 5, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

She told me everything with her eyes, usually I never listen, always taken up with everything else in my day and the days to come except the moment at hand! But this time I refused to allow my mind to drift, usually preoccupied with things that could take care of themselves, if not wait for when I had time to address them. I saw that void behind her focus, saying so much yet assuming I’d miss her signs once again, but still there was a piercing hope that held no facade of need behind her electric gaze. Why had I kept her waiting for so long? It was my lack of confidence in self, believing her too good to feel something for average ol’ me. What could I offer, that a whole world of what I may consider more than qualified men, could offer? I don’t think now was a time to ponder that, besides she always spoke directly about the things she loved about me, but bashfully I let them roll off her tongue as candor and casual niceties that are no more fitted than for, anything but playful gab. Trying to guess a woman’s intent, in any capacity is enough to send you to a nuthouse. What was it again? Oh yea, she loved my words, believing beneath them all, held a layer much deeper than what she has ever experienced in another man, she “vibed off my spirit” she’d always say. Yea, the feeling was mutual, but it always ended with me drifting into fantasies of more carnal desires and the friction we could share that would rival the lightening bolts of Zeus himself. Though time again, I’d quiet those thoughts, knowing I do have that layer of depth, priding myself of being capable of maintaining cordial bonds with women that didn’t have to involve sex, after all my best friend is a woman, so I’d try hard to quell those fires. Believing I could be more than the typical man, that’s assumed to not be able to think beyond sex and never knowing any good reason for waiting, as if wanting it all right away was always a matter of life or death. But this time, to my own peril, I finally realized I had thought too much into it and waited too long. I break our silence suddenly saying, “I get it now”. By her look, I could tell she was puzzled, caught off guard, by my words. I finished by saying, “I hear you, finally, way later than I should’ve, in saying nothing, your eyes said it all, I should’ve known, claiming to know you so well, and I’m right there with you, I always have been…I was just scared I admit, over thinking like usual, but trust me, the way I feel about you keeps the fire squad on call!” She blushed so hard at that moment, only heightening her radiant glow, resembling the sun’s rays peeking over the horizon. We both needed each other, why lose another second. I wont explain what happened next, because no words can even describe the plain we took off to from there, some experiences just cant be explained with words.
So I know you’re probably wondering why did I take you on this intimate ride with no details of explosive passion to follow, well because I’m in prison right now. So obviously that couldn’t happen! See, most of us will go through these situations when we get out, with no real understanding of how to navigate through them. Because of the interactions we didn’t have, cut off from naturally socializing, we might almost be like teenagers in the way we struggle with self confidence, reading signs, and unable to properly communicate our emotions, let alone allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Our brains were usually on fight or flight autopilot, we had no time to let our guards down, and every reaction we had, was to read if someone was being genuine, or if someone was trying to handle or hurt us. Everyone else that we knew outside came and went, so questioning intent and preparing for departure kept us unable to just be in the moment and focus, always believing that those around would fade away, I mean why stay and wait for a person stuck in the same spot. A reflection of how we valued ourselves based on the temporariness of others, let alone never feeling heard or understood, yet becoming the greatest listeners which only gave us more situational companions because frankly, no one listens intently these days, so no one listened to them out there, like a person in prison would. Imagine having answers for everyone but yourself yet still, no one having answers for you, where do you turn? So going back into this fast paced world, being able to focus and feel, will be a struggle. See re-offending may depend on our relationships, if we are maintaining good relationships and are successful in reading those intimate and social tell-tell signs, than life will be much easier and we will feel less alien. But if we aren’t successful, then going into our head will just be another prison we enter that may lead us back to this prison. Having to read signs is an unneeded added stress, and unnecessary stress always adds unintended consequences. I am even trapped in my head a lot right now, not being able at times to see myself as more than an inmate. But the difference is that I realize it, so maybe I can combat it, but most of us can’t, being only used to structural and functional relationships. Most of us will get out one day, so where will we find respite, escape, and emotional outlet if not in our relationships? All that to say this, since 50% of Americans know someone in prison, help them with relationship and interactions, venture away from your comfort and stop with the signs assuming that they know because the signs we are used to reading serve to keep us safe, I used to use them for that and to cope and understand the people around me. Yes, I’m asking you to spell it out until we get familiar with the world again, because not being able to adjust and feel apart of something and someone will only accelerate the feeling of alienation and possibly start us back on a downward spiral. We know what and who we were for years in here, don’t forget to help us remember who we were and could be once free again.

Filed Under: Inside, Love, Trauma

Roe V. Wade

September 13, 2018 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

I’m not a religious cynic, I’m just a religion critic
my beliefs first, I believe in a just god that loves and forgives me with divine justice as long as I am truly repented
but let me get back to my point for a minute
now I’m not scorning everyone who identifies with a religion or those whom are religious
because it’s just some not all that uses divine wisdoms
as cultural, gender-biased, and societal prisons
and for their greater good it blinds many of its citizens
some just follow unquestioningly Orthodox values and are truly innocent
but all sects and teachings speak a unified notion that all humans are flawed, so we can’t be that naïve that some orthodoxies come without agendas
hmm, women, let’s say for instance
at one point in time the were heralded as equals to men and reigned in matriarchy and other high positions
there is a reason I’m getting to, just let me finish my sentence
influence became synonymous with conquerors of the times spoils of war necessitated a common interdependence
men were on a mission to conquer and rename all within their image
and that came at the generational cost of a woman’s position and opinion becoming one mainly of catching up, silence, and submission
Man and Woman, of equal parts, yet a symbolism of division or sexual tension
now we’re on track, this is what I really wanted to mention
name a part of a man that is a matter of law or in need of permission controlled by a government, religion, or societal vision
outside of, of course, his circumcision
I’ll give you a minute…
I have a mother, a sister, a bestfriend, maybe a daughter one day and a woman that I will love one day
and they’ve been controlled and marginalized enough and I rather they only concede to God or fate
not by androcentric men heading each state
fighting to outlaw Roe V Wade
let me get of rhyme for a moment…
how can a woman’s choice and body be controlled by patriarchic religions and governments?
how can’t she be handled with the dignity respect love and care that is needed in her bearing that biological responsibility of bringing forth life?
shouldn’t life be cared enough about as to not just be thrusted into this wayward world without the necessary preparation and readiness?
what about her physical and mental state, the situation and cause? all of this matters, only she should be able to make that call.
after all she has to live with it
its her life that becomes limited
its her body that stretches and may wear
because during and after carry a child that society laws have may have made her bear
this is just another ploy to keep women out of the workforce and from gaining ground in society
if you pay attention, most men’s worst fear is a woman’s notoriety
obviously I agree to a certain degree in regards to tri-mester
but let someone I love be raped, taken advantage of, abandoned, or molested
and the world turns their back and the country she lives in won’t protect her
I know first hand- because I’ve been on the worst end- with a girlfriend- with a forced hand- to abort then- because not having a black baby in their family to her parents was more important- than the life of another person- even though we both weren’t ready to take care of a life together
I hated it, but even in retrospect, that was their families mutual consented decision
freedom comes in free choice, not choice with provisions
we’ve all played apart in silencing our women
even some women have done so, doing of coarse unknowingly, in order to distinguish themselves and gain position
us men must speak up against this gender based inquisition
which is playing out politically with the supreme court confirmation of Judge Kavanaugh in front of the senate on our television
this may not affect you now but it may in the distance, so it must be championed as a human cause, not political gain or loss because of religious laws, and make this mission.. more than just another submissive penetrative position

Filed Under: Culture, Spirit, 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.

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