I am Don Quixote and Sancho Panza in one, I tell you!
Half of me is this fantastical fearsome force, no matter the farce wrapped up in blurred realities of my own making.
I am hopelessly honorable, seeking justice down a well worn road on my trusty old steed that meanders as much as I do in the wanderings of my own mind.
But my path be ever straight. Ever true!
I seek all the adventures and perils no matter how big or small the questing task may be. A Dasmel awaits at every turn, as does the promising kiss upon my triumphant victory in the field!
She dwelled deep in the dark woods, on the isle of Aeaea off the west coast of Italy in the Mediterranean Sea in a glorious palace all alone.
Alone you say? You would be wrong to think that. Oh very wrong indeed.
For she was surrounded by a menagerie of pets always keeping her company; from the wolves that roamed far and wide, to lions lazily lingering near her as she sat her throne, to the birds nesting at her feet, or the occasional pig rutting the grounds outside.
Some called her a Goddess, others knew her to be an enchantress, or the darkest of witches to ever run afoul of.
What ever she was, all knew her as Circe, the woman who lived on the island of Aeaea, with hair of flowing fiery rays and oftentimes a temper to suit.
She was no temptress, yet some did claim her to be the daughter of a sea nymph, so that is perhaps why many a man was beguiled to find himself led to her isle.
Lucky you could be, if you were to find her. However, she did not suffer fools, for if you were funny and clever and easy on her eyes, she would take you as her lover and perhaps let you leave after a year and a day.
But be you arrogant or a swine, well, she would surely turn you into one, to rut the grounds of her great estate like the pig you were.
Turn away her advances of love and devotion, she might just concoct a potion for you to drink to transform your soul and form into that of a loyal lion always by her side.
Think you her better? She would send you to join the pack that roams the island always at her beck and call, and you would serve, oh so willingly with a snarl and a smile.
Oh, be you a resistant King come to call? Well, a bird you could become, wings clipped, with a special place for you nesting at her feet nearby.
Never satisfied was Circe of love being denied when wanting to be given, she is a cautionary tale of many a man’s follies followed soon by her own.
So diabolically desperate was she, always to love, that none ever did in return, for they always saw the darkness seething underneath tucked away in her heart.
Unrequited love will forever perhaps be her destiny until her heart finds its true form from whence it was first born, at peace, light, and burning with the intensity of a thousands suns.
~ Hinterland: an area lying beyond what is visible or known
An area I wish to go,
to get lost in like a hermit
in the woods of nowhere,
that somewhere no one else goes to because it can not be found.
Not at dawn, nor dusk, nor the in-between times
It’s all my time, my time.
My adventure, my mind, my place in my head of heads
where I softly tread a Universe of my own discoveries and foundlys of unique thought.
Mine to wrestle and wrangle and comingle the depths of philosophical phrases.
No matter how crazy, cruel, lazy, kind, or neurotic, dare I say perhaps erotic.
Just let it be. Let me be.
Let me find the way, or get lost on the way to this Hinterland I wish to call my home.
You asked me to come just Cuddle But I saw the slight curl of your smile and knew I might be in for some trouble Because I always thought with you a cuddle, was a cuddle, was a cuddle You said there would be others, A plethora of partners to partake of, A glorious heap, you said All gathered nicely in your California King of a bed. But when I arrived at your door, entered, and gave you a small kiss I became transfixed on the bed before me. Not a soul did exist in this very place and time, not one on the bed, nor in the hall, nor the kitchen, “Perhaps, the bath?” I asked. “No, dear Sir, just you and only I, so forgive the ruse, but cuddling with you has taken on a new meaning betwixt my mind and you “
She walked languidly towards the bed in her robe which she casually disrobed, leaving no mystery to what ruse she had connived on this cuddling of all cuddling nights now in disguise.
A sigh escaped me. As I saw her in true form…silken fair skin, full pert breasts, curved hips to rounded bottom, to a well tended inviting flower just waiting to open.
She then lay upon the bed, exactly in the middle, and it was not lost on me that she crawled ever so slowly on her knees to get there as she looked back at me, long hair falling off her shoulder to one side.
Clever, clever,clever of a cuddling girl, she new what she was about as she smiled and patted a spot on the bed next to her all the while directing her willful gaze towards me.
“You know this changes everything my dear? ” I softly intoned, as I kicked off my shoes to the corner of the room, unzipped and dropped my pants to the floor, removed my shirt in a flash and was left with only my underwear betweenixt my cock and the air.
“OH, I know. This is next level. But you cuddle so very well, better than all the rest. You are the King of cuddles Sir…oh the very best. Now I just want that cock of yours to cuddle all the rest, inside and out and over and under. So remove your damn underwear and cuddle the fuck out of me real hard right now!” So with that good people, I bid you adieu for my story is quite through and if I might say so this was quite overdue.
They call her autumn
because she
wraps around you
like a flurry of golden leaves
in a whirlwind
You WILL fall for her
simply because her
violent nature demands it,
commands it.
A Tempest,
a wild child
which rides lightening
and flashes a grin that
fucking drives you
to your knees
Just try and stand against
the forces within her
and you will be taught
a cruel lesson about
natures full fury
once unleashed.
But autumn she is a beauty
a conundrum
a magical journey
if you be so bold to take it
Be you so bold?
To capture the surreal
and hold it close
Could you ever be so lucky?By Philip Andrew Wardlow
The young one will put up with too much and wait too long to get out.
The old one will take a beautiful moment and stomp it to death while crying into their pillow at night.
Expectations of the Impressionable Soul are racing, fun and fluid, chaotic and tragic in an instant of time
Expectations of a Jaded Soul is exhausting, impenetrable, and walled on all four sides with catapults launching flaming balls of fire.
Both want everything life has to offer, but the thing is, one is willing to give too much to get it, while the other doesn’t believe the offering of everything exists anymore, if it ever did.
At times the tides can be low with the seas pulled back from my shore, leaving an empty wet beach of flopping fish and half broken seashells and garbage mingling in the flotsam and jetsam amongst an almost barren terrain of foreign smells.
When in this low tide, I feel underwhelmed in life, not seen enough, not heard enough, not understood enough, not known enough, not connected enough
not wanted enough. All the enoughs being never enough.
Then flip that, when the ocean is high and the waves are rugged and crash hard with a splendor of driving kinetic energy, when the universe seemingly has all its sights set upon me to thrive and live lively as a person could ever be, I live gloriously!
Life, throwing it all at me, from the left , right, forward and behind, overwhelming me , surging, filling me full to bursting.
and then I do.
I think I have always had this rhythm in me, this cycling of not quite heaven and not quite hell and all the thoughts they bring. A very fickle Melancholy
I don't want to feel sometimes because it all becomes too much to. One because I know it will end. That feeling. It will end, never to return and I will miss it.
At other times I want to feel it all, like a greedy child at a candy shop, mindful of all the sights, and feelings, and intimacies, soaking it in, in the moment, truly not a care for the future. I am filled with a smile and laugh that lasts forever in me in that moment..
I know I am a lucky man. A very lucky man. So so lucky in my life compared to others.
So I hold to that thought. That I am a lucky man.
The luckiest man that ever there was.
By Philip Wardlow September 12th, 2023
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 