My life at times
feels like a slow draining of what
was once me
and I’m just circling a hole
I need to find that stopper.
by Philip Wardlow Feb,2020
There are certain songs that you must
listen to the words,
while others songs
you can simply tap
a foot to and let your
soul get lost in the rhythm of.
People are like that also;
you either get lost in them
or sit and listen,
really listen, and both ways
are equally important.
by Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020
A cold fire burns within and without in the world I dwell in, and they all dance on a head of a pin while I sit wondering why they dance at all, and what tune is playing as they dance, and do they even hear the music that they dance to because it’s god awful.
I press my ear to the wall in my hotel room and I hear their gibbering muffled words coupled with occasional laughter. The snatches of conversation never seem to come into focus, never revealing anything but more mysteries of a world that I could never truly see. It’s one of lofty laughter and sick sorrows, and fears reflected off a dirty black mirror sucking in all the known. In that room, desires are unfurled, as regrets are thrown to the floor, forgotten, with lessons never picked up and put in their proper place upon the shelf.
Chaos reigns in that room as Order has a left a long time ago and gone for a drink in the hotel bar down below.
I pound against the wall, over and over.
“Hear me!” I yell at the peeling paint.
“See me!” I yell through the thick crumbling plaster.
“Let me into your party!” For I need talk sense to you savages, or at the very least strangle you all completely so I can finally go peacefully to sleep.
The music abruptly stops. The mumbling, murmurs, and gaiety subside.
Have they heard me? All is quiet.
Then there is laughter all around, and a banging back upon my wall as if by a hundred, a thousand, no a million hands, and one clear word shining through it all of being called a “FOOL” right before the music resumes, louder and more raucous than before.
My fists clinch, eyes becoming intense as dark deeds flood every particle of me. Destruction reigns, blood rising as my blue view begins to fade to a pale red creeping to a dark hue.
Then comes a knock at my hotel room door.
I walk over, looking through the peephole and it’s Order, eye to eye with me.
I fling open the door ready to give him peace of my mind.
“I thought you might need a friend,” Order says, grinning with whiskey in hand as he walks in, bringing all his new found followers, never ending, flowing in, filling my room complete.
Order’s smile is infectious and I smile back as the cold fire within, burning, begins to warm.
I laugh loud and hard, bringing out glasses for everyone, filling them, with Whiskey, passing them out fast as I fill them
“A toast, a toast” I say, with a flourish of my glass, “To Order, my friend, for your time shall come as will our own, so drink, drink and turn the damn music up and lets have some fucking fun!
by Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020
She says she wants to go before me
because she says she’s not strong
enough to see me go.
She often casually calls me darling
from across the room
likes we’ve always been.
She pulls the positive from me
and pushes the negative away that
at times I let invade.
Whether in darkness or light
she takes my hand knowing
I will protect her in an instant
She seeks to know my day
whether it’s mundane or magical,
she seeks the knowing of me.
She often asks what was the best
part of my day, and my answers vary,
but I never say what I should,
that it’s the drive home in knowing
I’m going to see you.
It’s not easy for me to love.
Distance is my friend, for closeness
lets the hurt creep in.
Yet, I wish her close.
I want her near.
I want everything she
has to offer
I want all her tender
By Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020