Monthly Archives: August 2017

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, Video Video Videos!

Love bites (But so do I) Feeling like Rocking today!

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Don’t listen what your girlfriend says
She reads those magazines
That say you failed the test
You don’t have what she needs
I slither like a viper
And get you by the neck
I know a thousand ways
To help you forget about her

That bitch can eat her heart out

Love bites but so do I, so do I
Love bites but so do I, so do I
(Love bites)

My lips are pale and vicious
You’re foamin’ at the mouth
You’ve suffered in the darkness
I’ll suck the pain right out
So come and taste the reason
I’m nothin’ like the rest
I’ll kiss you in a way
You’ll never forget about me

That chick can eat her heart out

Love bites but so do I, so do I
Love bites but so do I, so do I, so do I

It checks you in and kicks you down
And chews you up and spits you out
It messes with your sanity
By twisting all your thoughts around

They say it’s blind, they say it waits
But every time it seals your fate
Now it’s got you by the balls
It won’t let go until you fall

I was down and out, got up
I said, “Hey love, I’ve had enough”
I’ve felt pleasure without pain
My soul you’ll never tame

Love bites but so do I

Love bites but so do I, so do I
Love bites but so do I, so do I, so do I
(Love bites) But so do I, so do I
Love bites, love bites

 

by the band Halestorm

 

GiFs for your Entertaiment, Poetry Work

Mystery Girl

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She flits
amongst the tangled
night in dreams
that I have not known
Yet the desire is
there to partake
of the darkness
that abounds and
surrounds from within her
Mingle me in your madness
Tangle me in your limbs
crawling across your skin
With my warm lips
against cold body
gradually gaining heat
the more you encompass
me.
Your disguise is my own
you think you wear
unbeknownst.
I know.
Mystery girl,
still a sad
forlon whistling tune
hanging in the wind,
a shadow dimly cast by
a light trapped in a closet
from a future not promised
nor sure
she sits tap, tap, tapping
her index finger
on a desk that hardly
ever saw a word written
upon it.
I listen for
her echo
Deep, hallow,
beautiful
wanting.
I listen for it
in the night
as she flits and flutters
in the dark.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Inquiring Minds

Wildlife Charity Art Auction for Conservation Efforts

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Take a look at the Art  Auction that’s starts today   Monday, August 28th  at 10am E.T.   for a great cause.   This  auction  goes on through Next Monday Sept 4th so you have lots of time to look over any pieces that catch your eye to bid on!

Go to  the site that is hosting this great event for  Fight For Rhinos   called  Bidding Owl.  They have hosted this event before two years with other great pieces for this same Non-Profit.

Please take a little time out of your busy day and have a look. Also, if you know someone that is interested as well in art or  overall likes contributing to a worthy cause, please share this post or link to the auction site.

Even if you don’t see a piece you might like to buy you also may donate any amount you see fit  from  $1  to   Million !    🙂   It ALL counts in the end…. a little or a lot goes a long way!

Thanks guys!

 

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

I am

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IMG_20170821_000146_767.jpgI Am…

I am a rogue, a scoundrel, flirtatious and a smart ass like Han and Lando.
Have been since I was eight
its my nature
sorry…not sorry
I give grins
Sexual Innuendo
But with a sincere affection
Behind it all
I will give you an ear
a hug
advice
and not always what
you want to hear
But I’m real
No bullshit
But just don’t catch
me drunk
then I can’t be trusted
I see beauty every where
And try to hold it tight
But it often flies away.
But it comes back in
One form or another.
I am mischievous
A dork
Passionate
Love sex and do it well…:)
Also love the value of sexiness
Because life is meant to be
brash and fun
As serious shit abounds
I apologize way too much
to myself
for actions I have
Yet to perform
I am a work in progress
at times too slowly.
But I’m learning.
My way works for
Me
For I am me and that’s
what I will continue to
Be.

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Mischievous Summer

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“Pull, pull, pull the strings of my heart,” she said, “just you pull off these clothes that seem to be in the way between you and me, and I will gladly give you what you pretend to see.”

In your ear, I shall whisper, “Dear, dear, dear , my love knows no bounds, for a dalliance with you is truly profound, well except until the morn. Then it’s on to that cute blonde. You know the one you yourself were with just last week down the street.”

Ah summer,
A fickle thing, a merry thing, a melancholy sad thing
tis almost like that hot beach breeze that whipped on
by as I licked vanilla ice cream off your thighs
It all mingling in my mouth as a gritty sweetness.

You laughed then, telling me that was a ticklish spot
I have since learned of more places upon your
skin where my tongue likes to wander about
and cause you to laugh along with other
sounds…

My grin always matched your grin
as the twinkle in my eyes mirrored yours
in return.
Partners in the clandestine
hand in hand
with a twist of the knob
we entered
into that waiting bedroom
in sweet anticipation
always knowing in
our minds
our mischievous summer
soon would end.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

A million pieces

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How do you tell if you
are broken into
a million pieces?

And how do you tell when
you are whole?

I’ve cut myself
a hundred times
with the sharp edges
of my many pieces
as I slipped in my
own blood,
slick upon the floor

I have beat the walls
with fists used to
the abuse and the
comforting pain that comes

But there is a time when
the pain lends no comfort
and there is a time
when the tears falling
give no relief
It all just reminds you
how truly broken
you just might be.

I want to linger in you.
Caress the what-if of
our potential even if it’s
fleeting.

See some of the fallen pieces
In your eyes and pick them up
One by one
Knowing I will never be whole
and that’s okay
not to be.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Inquiring Minds, Stories and Story Excerpts

Amongst the Stars

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A deep brackish blue light filtered in through the curtains next to my bed crawling across my closed eyes. I let my head remain, resting on my pillow. Perhaps I could fool the world in to believing I was still yet asleep. Nudges came in thunderous pains, lightening strikes to the brain. I knew I was awake, that was enough.

In all night diner, I found my hands full of a ceramic cup filled with coffee topped with cream in the design of a mountaintop I had yet to climb. Desires awoke in me, spoke to me; whispered really. They never yelled. Never. Except to run. I hated them all. Weaklings all of them.

I slapped myself hard then. Sitting there in the crowded diner, coffee in hand with my mountain in a cup.

I yelled out loud, “I am not a ghost!”

Then I left a dollar tip and got up and left to stares and murmuring all around. I was their talk of the day.

I broke into a run down the sidewalk. If anything I was going to own the running. Fuck the illusions, fuck the dream. Fuck the quicksand of doubt. Ever forward…running.

Just find the rhythm of me. Left, right, left, right…pick them up…put them back down. Running towards it, not away…no matter the pitfalls.

“Viva la Vida” played as I ran by a outdoor bar, then I heard an old woman humming “Cest Le Vie” as she fed the pigeons in the park.

Well fuck, the Universe seemed to be noticing me. For good or bad? I guess we’ll see

As my feet suddenly left the ground to go running amongst the stars.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

To Forge

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It’s not easy creating something from
nothing.
But actually,
you always start with something,
The tools in your hands,
the piece of metal before you,
and the knowledge and creativity
to wield
a whirlwind
of beautiful
possibilities with but a thought
at first strike.
The exquisite toll it takes
on your body.
As the sweat rolls,
the blood mingles
all poured into
the making.
Coming straight from
the heart and soul of you

But this cold forge
has not been stoked
in months
No immense heat emits from the
concaves of the mortar and brick.
The bellows are silent.
The bins are still full of rough stocks of metal
Waiting
Just Waiting.
To be struck
on the anvil
and for my spirit
to finally stir up from
the dust.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

In knowing

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There is a danger in knowing you
too well Miss Light.
Indeed,
like a stormchaser
racing after a tornado
down a back road
with no outlet.
Then the twister suddenly turns,
No escape,
and only beautiful obliteration
Follows
No pieces left of me
to find.
Just a lonely road
as the funnel slowly
rotates up and away
to fade into the
heavens
as if it never was.

Philip Wardlow 2017.