All posts by Philip Wardlow

Philip Wardlow is a burgeoning ever growing writer and poet delving into all the various aspects of the human condition. His writing tastes run to the Erotic most recently. In the recent past he has written to the Dark Urban Fantasy & Horror Genre which he still loves as well. He likes to dabble in all the various forms of poetry; from the sexy to the humorous, to the profound and beautifully sentimental and reflective. He has only been at this chosen path for a few of years and has produced one Novella published as an Ebook on Amazon called “Roadkill”. He has submitted and continues to submit various stories and poetry works to publications for consideration. Philip is working on a collection of Erotic Poetry due out in 2021 in ebook form and perhaps in paperback. He is also concurrently working hard on his other passion; photography. Philip believes he can have each foot planted in two distinctly different worlds of creativity there by inciting new ideas and growth at the same time in both.

The Power In Me – Excerpt of Short Story by Philip Wardlow


Power

The Power in Me

Three Ping Pong balls revolved in midair, each one following the other in a tight circle as they flew.

*

“I shouldn’t be able to be doing this, Carl!” she yelled at the bald little man sitting across the table from her in the dining room of her house. Carl was wearing a smug little grin on his face that annoyed the hell out of her. He was always full of himself, today more than usual. He obviously knew more than her. Shit! She was losing her concentration. One of the balls slipped out of it’s rotation and fell.

*

“True and not true,” Carl replied back glibly to her as he deftly caught the falling ball with his left hand, inches before it hit the table.

*

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!” she said, her eyes staring ahead at the two remaining balls still rotating in front of her. She thought of a figure eight, and immediately the balls begin to swirl in that configuration. It was equally cool and frightening at the same time, she thought, but Carl didn’t have to know that.

*

“Angela, you have taken to this extremely well. It seems you are a natural. I have to give our co-workers credit. They were betting you would do well the first time right out the gate. Not many can pull off even one ball this quickly, let alone three. Guess I will have to pay up when I get back to the office.” Carl chuckled to himself, rolling the little white ball he had caught back and forth between his hands on the dining room table still smiling at her smugly.

*

Angela took her eyes from the two remaining balls, which spun and looked directly at Carl.

*

“You mean there are others who can do this? Out with it, Carl, I’m sick of the games. You’ve been playing them too long, first with my husband, now with me. Be straight for once, or for god sakes I’ll shove these balls down your goddamn throat.”

*

Carl’s smile slipped a little her under dark stare. He involuntarily swallowed when he suddenly realized the balls were still continuing to spin in their figure eight pattern without her looking at them. Damn, she’s good, he thought, and arrogant. A lot like him more or less, he thought, but still soft.

*

“Well.” Angela said to him, more of a command than a question.

*

Carl ignored her tone. “You remember that project three years ago that kept Scott away so many hours at night?”

*

She remembered all too well, the late nights, and all the arguments that followed, telling her he couldn’t discuss his work with her because she didn’t have the clearance. It still rankled her a little to this day. Angela only nodded as she looked at him as the balls continued to spin, so Clark continued.

*

“We had found something amazing. To be more exact it found us. One of the lab geeks directed to synthesize some of the proteins from a plant brought back from Brazil accidentally combined two cultures in the synthesis we were working on with the lot. The other plant was from an older expedition we had done years ago in the Congo in Africa. Scott had pulled it himself from the incubator a few days later. Lot Forty-Two.”

*

Angela noticed Carl’s eyes dilating and his hand gestures became more animated as he spoke. This disturbed her for some reason and she didn’t know why.

*

“Oh, the things Lot Forty-two revealed to us, Angela!” Carl found it hard to contain himself as he talked.

*

“We didn’t know how much until we began the human trials. You did not know this, but Scott, was one of the first volunteers. The committee had been paranoid of it getting out to the general public so everything was done in house; very hush hush.

*

“I am sorry to say this ,Angela, but he was a fool.” Carl said flatly to her from across the table.

*

An invisible force compressed against Carl’s chest, to send him flying and to go slamming into the wall behind him. Plaster crumbled around his head and tumbled off the nice black suit coat he wore. Now I am going to have to go to the dry cleaners tomorrow, he thought idly.

*

“Release me, Angela.” Carl said quietly. She indeed is a natural. In front of her the two balls still wove their figure pattern in the air. If only it could be different.

*

Angela saw no fear in Carl at what she had just done to him. More so, a calm demeanor seemed to settle into him, like a mask had lifted. She herself was scared at what she had just done. Where had it come from? This was so much different than revolving balls in the air. This new power seemed to have welled up inside her and she had just let it go all at once at him in a stream. It was still flowing; like a fire hose turned wide open at the hydrant.

*

“Why say such a thing about Scott?” Angela’s dark eyes seemed to glow as she stood up and walked slowly around the table to him. Carl just stared at her, not blinking. The force increased upon his chest as he sank even deeper into the wall.

*

Because he knew the initial trials were unstable, he knew it could possibly kill him. But he went ahead with it anyway. He wanted to be one of the firsts. His vanity won out and it was his undoing in the end. ”  Carl gasped for breath from the pressure she was exerting on his chest.

*

“The drug he and the others had taken was unrefined, the levels too high for their system. The power consumed him; it drove him to lash out violently with the power for no reason. You must have suspected.”  Carl looked at Angela challenging her to disagree as he fought to breathe.

*

“You should remember his dark moods when he came home.   He had to be put down! Now let me go!” Carl controlled his breathing. This game is at an end. The committee be damned, he thought.

*

Angela ignored him. She pushed harder and the power flowed from her like the heat from the sun. Along with the power, anger filled her. Anger at this little man who had taken her husband away, anger at the lies he now spouted about him.  Her power escalated as her anger took a foothold in her, each resonated and drew upon the other. They were feeding each other.

*

Continue reading The Power In Me – Excerpt of Short Story by Philip Wardlow

The secret life of Elgin Park


I think this kind of stuff is cool…the guy put a lot of work into this …check it out!

hovercraftdoggy's avatarhovercraftdoggy

Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park. Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park. Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park. Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park.   Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park. Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park. Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park.   Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park.              Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park.

Welcome to the City of Elgin Park.

Michael Paul Smith is the perfect example of an artist with a passion for what he does. For the last 25 years, he has spent some of his spare and much of his professional time making miniature models and photographing them, creating a gallery of vintage car photographs from a fictional 1950s American town called Elgin Park.

As a professional model maker, Smith’s models are detailed enough to withstand the scrutiny of close-up photography. Smith places them in miniature dioramas and uses forced perspective to make parts of the real world lend his pictures additional realism. The result is a quirky sort of historical fiction – faithfully and authentically reproduced scenes from a small American town that never actually happened (but could have).

What’s also great about his Elgin Park collection is that the magician is willing to…

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The Fool’s fool – A poem


 

The Fool’s fool –

 

A knight has his squire…

The Sun it’s faithful Moon which follows.

He is not so simple,  so fluid of purpose

or scene.

He is a machination of fate

desperate and wanting.

A vain creature picking at scraps

thrown at him.

A soul dwelling

in a misery of his own undoing

while a golden bauble sits in his

very own pocket.

He is a fool’s fool

and his master would be

very proud.

By Philip Wardlow 2014

 

The_Fool_by_MarkWilkinson
The_Fool_by_MarkWilkinson

 

 

 

 

Desire – by Meg Myers – A an eerie erotic music Video


 

 

She scares me and I like it…..:)

 

The “Three Things ” Questionnaire


Three Things…or is it Many Three Things.    What’s yours?  Curious minds wanna know.

My fellow blogger Jodi Llewellyn  posted yet another interesting blog she found at  girlinabasement  She decided it would be fun to alter it a little and fill it out.  I’m  a lazy bastard so I just copied hers below. Yeah, I’m like that. Go check out  her blog and  see the answers to her questions at her blogsite  called http://jodiellewellyn.wordpress.com/2014/03/17/the-three-questionnaire-for-writers/     .  So go check her out…but read mine first.. yeah I’m selfish and needy, so what!.

THREE THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF: 1. I am taking Fencing lessons. 2. I need to lose a good 20lbs.  3. I work as a Senior Technical Salesman overseeing idiots.

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU: 1.  Dying before I can do what I wish to accomplish in life. 2.  Random acts of Violent Chance  3. Losing my hope and optimism.

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS: 1.  My Family including my animals 2.  Escapism  in any fashion 3.  Coffee

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES: 1. Exercise 2. Reading/Writing. 3.  Movies

THREE CAREERS YOU’RE CONSIDERING/YOU’VE CONSIDERED: 1. An author.  2.  Archeologist – loved Indiana Jones  3.  Astronaut- would love to travel to Mars

THREE BOOKS YOU HAVE RECENTLY READ: 1. Hero of Ages by Brandon Sanderson. 2. Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman. 3. Comic Books

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WORKING ON, WRITING WISE: 1. Rough Draft to first Novel called Fourth World– a Teen-, urban fantasy. 2. Finishing up Short Story called – The Power in Me  3.   Poetry Poetry  Poetry

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE: 1. Travel to Africa . 2. Be a published author. 3.  Have more friends

THREE FAV CELEB IDOLS: 1. Sting 2. Will Ferrell  3. Kristen Wiig

THREE QUOTES: 1. “When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. That’s my religion” – Abe Lincoln. 2. “Do not go gentle into that good night” – Dylan Thomas 3. “Love is taking a few steps backward, maybe even more…to give way to the  person you love” ― Winnie the Pooh

 

 

What are your answers fellow bloggers?

Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Cage the Elephant


This year I opted for  the ability to play Video on my blog…soooooooooo    I had to have my first video ever to the Music Video by the band Cage the Elephant for the song “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked“…:)

So if you have heard the song…listen…I hope you enjoy it. It sort of inspired the name of my blog.

I’m trying to Flap my Jack as fast as I can…


FlippFlapjacks

Punching Water – A poem


PunchingWater

Punching Water

If I had to describe  what  life was like

I would say it’s like punching water.

I flail with fists at this simple concoction of

wondrous matter with wild abandon.

Yet it feels no pain,  no emotion

Bruised knuckles connect to its surface

breaking the stream,

It simply cascades around my skin.

Surface tension,  caused by its bi-polar nature

reforms the flow after my useless flinging

of flesh has ceased.

My presence barely felt.

Strength is spent, muscles on fire,

breathing labored

I give up the fight

and  cup my hands to take a drink.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

hands-in-water

Watching you Read – An erotic love Poem


Reading

Watching you Read –

Eyes downcast.

Intent.

Hardbound book in hand,

fingers lay splayed around its spine

caressing it with a familiar grip.

An upward curl of your  lips,

as baby blues dilate

momentarily

to drink in the words upon the page.

What adventure do you ride into?

What romance causes the rush I

see to come to pale pink cheeks?

Does the beat of your heart quicken, as

the rising action lifts your senses to the edge,

only to send you cascading off a cliff?

You are a mystery written in a foreign tongue, a conundrum, an enigma, a puzzle

within  a puzzle.

Had I the time

to spy all my days

as you luxuriate with knees

drawn up in quiet

meditation,

lost in a world of someone’s else’s

creation.

I would count myself a very

lucky man.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Rest in Peace Harold Ramis….Or Shake up the Afterlife like you did this one.


HaroldRamis

List of Movies Harold Ramis, wrote or helped write, acted in, or directed  (or all three at once) –

Animal House

Stripes

Heavy Metal (voice acting)

Meatballs

Ghostbusters I, II

National Lampoons Vacation

Caddyshack

Groundhog Day

Airhead

Bayboom

Love Affair

High Fidelity

Orange County

The Last Kiss

Back to School

Analyze This

Analyze That

As Good as it Gets

The Ice Harvest

Club Paradise

Multiplicity

Stuart Saves His Family

Bedazzled

Knocked Up

Walk Hard: The Dewy Cox Story

Year One