Roll the Dice ~
I threw them in the air,
now they must land somewhere.
On the table, they do a dance,
Rolling, tumbling, spinning,
so many combinations
No skill required at the outcome.
But my intent is everything.
For I picked up those dice
from that table
while all the rest just stared,
drink in hand,
in a perpetual daze.
Time slows, stretching out like taffy
pips tease then disappear
to taste a different future
as corners turn and angles
fly in a latticework of physics,
a mysterious inertial
In favor or against
In favor or against.
Fate, a whim or not?
Fate is a fickle bitch.
But I will get into
bed and roll with her in the sheets
by Philip Wardlow 2015
I see no signs
stating no trespassing.
I see no limit
with which I may
take your body to.
No caution markers
or road flares are set inside of you
unless I put them there,
pushing them into any hole
deep, deep, deep.
No lines confine me as
meander all over the
Bouncing to and fro.
You will never know where I’ll be,
for no laws direct me.
You live in my land
under my hand
but there are no borders,
no restrictions to how far you may travel.
Show me a map and I’ll throw it away.
I like surprises,
I like the hidden places
those secret spaces
that most people drive
right on by.
Show me yours
and I will show you a world
by Philip Wardlow 2015
I will never figure her out…nor her or her…nor him..nor them
They are not of my planet. Their culture is otherworldly. Their customs are strange and alien.
I am an X and they an O
I do understand their motives to obtain their desires and their exclusion
of my own status quo.
That has always been clear.
I have my own.
But what drives that core.
What drives their internal combustion engine?
Is it DNA, a cellular imperative, concocted in a biochemical
or is it causality brought on with a sting of a whip
or sweet taboo kiss in the dark.
Either way there is an invisible mark
traced upon them
Informing us both in no uncertain
terms stay back
by Philip Wardlow 2015
Hmm..what if you were the last Male on earth..
Originally posted on Fight for Rhinos:
Imagine as a male being the last of your kind… you, 2 females, and a handful of other creatures surrounding you. This is the life of Sudan, the last male Northern White Rhino on the planet.
At the ripe age of 42, this old-timer is spending the last of his days at Ol Pejeta Conservancy in Kenya. He is a calm and relaxed old rhino, who enjoys the company of Mohammed and Esagon, his keepers who care for him around the clock. He responds to their voices and their presence is extremely calming to him.
His days are spent alternating between his own enclosure and a larger area with both Fatu and Najin, the two females. When in their presence, he seems to prefer time with Najin.
Where most white rhinos are munching on grass, this is not his favorite; as he prefers Lucerne (alfalfa), carrots, bananas and…
View original 267 more words
She is ~
She is dangerous as a newly
and delicate as a dying
I can’t read her mind
but I know her intention
is to please
while secretly demanding to be pleased.
Her sweetness is bottled up
in a jar labeled as poison
Drinking her down
would be problematic if
the antidote was not close at
You can try,
but you might die just a little inside
if you failed in your quest.
She doesn’t want a pussy,
she already has one of those
so strap on that dick
and pump up your
give her a gentle kiss
but no slack or quarter in bed
She wants you sir.
Deep deep inside
her deviate little head.
by Philip Wardlow
I often sit and just think about what formed “ME”
What led to “ME” . How was I formed? Why do I function the way I do?
I like trying to understand myself as I am sure most people try to. I do it also to become a better writer. I believe if I can get to the root of me then I can get to the root of that character I am trying to develop.
I am big on being “real” with my characters. So many books I have read have stilted unrealistic dialogue action, and plotting just so they can get the character to the next page.
What’s my character?
I remember my father vaguely because he died when I was barely twelve. The one thing that sticks out in my mind about him most was his quiet silence.
I call it a quiet silence because it wasn’t a disgruntled silence or silence that had a point to it. It just was. There was no malice behind it..though perhaps there was a little sadness at times in it. To me it always seemed a calm acceptance at the way things were or had to be.
There were one occasion where I really felt this silence within him.
I was about nine years old and my mom had thrown one of her epic “tantrums” I call them now. Plate throwing, iron skillet flying , cussing, and flinging of insults and telling of all the wrong doings done to her by him, my father. And there my father stood in silence, one hand perhaps slightly raised in defense to any imminent flying object which may come his way. The knot rising like a mountain already on his head of one plate that had connected with his skull.
As my mom often so did when she would get this worked up she would flee. In that fleeing, she would collect up my two brothers and I in a whirlwind and drag us from the house, our home, to stay at a friend’s house, or a hotel far away for a short to extended stay of days or weeks or even months at a time.
My father would sit there in his silence and just let her take us knowing she would return sooner or later, until the next time of course.
But this time had been different.
As I was being tugged out the door by my mother (because I was always the pokey one) my father suddenly reached out and grabbed my other hand and pulled me back.
So there I was, a human piece of rope being tugged by my parents. She pulled then he would pull back….
I remember my father distinctly looking into my scared tear filled face and asking quietly if I wanted to stay with him.
I found my mouth wouldn’t work. I couldn’t talk.. I could say neither “yes” or “no”.
My mother overheard the question and then asked me in a clipped tone if I wanted to.
For some reason I found it in me to answer her…and simply said, “Yes.”
She abruptly released me and left with my other two brothers. Gone.
For the next days or weeks, I really don’t remember, it was just him and I at home. We hung out , we talked in generalities and funny things that only a nine year old boy and a grown man could talk about.
I don’t remember the conversations or any of the activities we did. I do remember being content in that short amount of space and time with him. I saw his contentment as well.
I remember he seemed a little less silent when we were together during that period. And even when he was silent he seemed to carry his silence a little differently when we were together. Lighter , is the only word I can put to it. I had come to realize he had needed me to stay….
I was happy I had said yes…
I recently read a blog post entitled Intelligence vs Faith, from someone named Thomas M. Watt, whom I follow. He basically asked his audience would you find faith and believe in God and turn from being an Atheist if planet Earth was attacked , enslaved and taken over by a godless alien race in just one day? (why one day is a modifier in this scenario I don’t know) Now being a writer I was intrigued by the question so my “what-if” wheels started spinning on the question. Here is my rant on gods, God , religion and aliens…:)
Every race has some form of a god or gods…even an alien race…I am betting with 99.99999% surety that there are alien races out there who have their own gods and their own “bible” . Some are probably war mongers who want to attack other alien races and subjugate them and others are peaceful enough to just want to explore and learn from the other races and perhaps even want to help them. Just as there are extremes and factions in our own humankind there must be on other alien worlds. We as humans ARE special BUT we are not as special as soooo many people on this planet make us out to be.
We are NOT one of a kind. Your question tells me that you think we are THAT special that “our” god (like if there is truly a god he couldn’t have more than one planet . one galaxy, or one universe to manage under his umbrella). If GOD is as we say so omnipresent and all knowing and all powerful why would he Give PLANET A any special favors over PLANET B… maybe he loves them both (or hates them both) equally and wants them to learn from their mistakes of attacking an entire planet and enslaving them.
This has happened on our own planet on a smaller scale over thousands of years and a god has never intervened (as far as I can see) to stop it. It just gradually got better and the situation went away through our own human compassion and moral compass pointing us in the right direction.
And what does a god care about scale anyway? Hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, trillions….they could all die an instant and I think it would feel the same to that god… (just conjecture of course. I never assume I know what a person is thinking…even a god…:) (even though everyone else seems to know) I personally don’t want to worship anything or anyone….respect yes….take advice from yes…love maybe even…but not worship.
To me all gods are those asshole friends who never come around to say hello or give advice or listen to your problems or help move your shit when your moving out of your apartment.
I say, Show up , get your hands dirty with me….laugh with me… toil with me …let me know your in it with me and you care…then I might like ya just a little bit…then maybe I will call ya friend…but worship you no… I would sooner worship my cat…
(This is just one man’s opinion and feelings on the matter. For what that is worth as there are 7.2 Billion people on this planet with their own as well.)
How many women really own their sexual side…demand to be seen…demand satisfaction..I fear not enough…
Intimacy can come in many forms and it could be with a woman, a man, or nature..and it has but one definition…an intangible soft closeness.
Bright eyes, bright smile, an open heart and a passionate wanting with a wicked way..that’s what I like in you….may it never change.
Certain friends have always been imaginary, only daydreams…flits of movement at the edges of your sight. that’s all they have ever been
We are all shrouded in the skins of our choosing since our inception.
Lost eyes following a lost heart down a trail of stolen bread crumbs
There are riots in me at times…and they burn and break and pillage through the city that is me
by Philip Wardlow 2015