In The End~
“Show me a little more sin,” he said.
You knew the ways of men 
so you smiled,
giving him a wicked grin,
as you lifted your skirt,
and listed all the
things in your head you
would take from him
in the end.
by Philp Wardlow 2016
Category Archives: Inquiring Minds
My introduction page as a writer trying to get publsihed and a collection of posts showing who I am through ancetdotal musings about my life or how I am inspired to write or why I write and how I write in my own wierd little way.
Hiddin Within
Hidden Within~
He watches her. She watches him.
The dog , he watches nothing.
Their eyes can’t hide what lies beneath.
A tilt of the head, a downcast look tells
me all I need to know about their inner
Lives.
They hate. They love. They lust. They laugh at
Life.
Is there sadness behind that smile they
Give.
Some hide from each other.
Some hide from themselves.
Some hide simply because they can.
I wish I could see all the dreams buried
deep within their heads.
Dreams which they’ve never fed;
maybe a doctor, a lawyer, or a whore,
maybe a pretentious pious little bore.
Their thoughts are hidden;
a landscape of dark shadows and fog banks hung
Low.
I watch it all unfold.
They can’t keep it hidden long,
for like a cauldron bubbles, spews, and spits so
does their mind emit a gurgling of regret, a wisp of
weakness, or a hiss of hysteria in its’ attempt to lament.
I watch and I wait for it all to unfold,
for the hidden to be found and the found to be told.
I’m a spectator to the grand affair which is hidden within.
So know that when I look at you or you at me,
I will see you, see you indeed.
By Philip Wardlow
Desolate Dame
Desolate Dame~
You give him a grin
and forget it all when he
grabs a breast.
He smiles that same stellar smile
that trapped you so long
ago.
You sweat it all out through sexual labors
and forget…
all the moments meandering
constant in the frontal lobe of your brain that aches
to cut him loose and send him downstream
to go cascading off a cliff.
Yet you play the martyr to his Mussolini,
tied up and tortured in the town square,
while all the passerby’s look the other way.
Weakness.
Doesn’t become you.
Defiance should rule.
But yet you grin all over again
when he grabs your breast.
Philip Wardlow
The Incident – a Story
Going to attempt to write a long poem or short story within 10 minutes and just let my mind flow. I will correct all typos and grammatical mistakes after so that is not slowing me down… I will attempt a story as I have written enough poems as of late and want to change it up.
So here goes. Keep in mind, if it sucks, I wrote it in 10 minutes okay….so go easy on me. Thanks! 🙂
The Incident
She held the boy’s head tight in a death grip. He was squirming but he wasn’t going anywhere.
The other boy’s friend had run to get the teacher on the other side of the playground. The sun was high….sheesh, it was fucking hot, she thought. The boy’s head was getting slippery with sweat, she was gonna lose him, so she kicked the back of his knees and sent him to the ground and put her knees between his shoulders bearing her full weight on him, which was a lot, considering the boy was a toothpick, a scrawny toothpick at that. Why did he think he think he could get away with it?
She imagined his mouth was full of grass. Good. She smiled inside at the thought of him having a green tongue later when he got home.
She was surrounded by what must have been thirty kids chanting to punch the boy she held onto. Wasn’t this enough. Animals, she thought, all of them. They probably didn’t even why know she was fighting him.
“You okay Rick?” she asked as she continued to kneel on him, her knees still pressing firmly in to his back. She actually really did want to know if he was okay. She was like that, even with a boy like Rick.
“Mmmmm,” was all she heard. Oh Shit, he really was eating grass. She let up a little with her knees. But not much.
“Get the fuck off of me!” He yelled, the side of his face a mask of wet grass clippings along with probably his own spit mingled in with the dew of the day. He squirmed and he squirmed but no progress was made to remove the weight that was her.
“Now you know the magic words, we have been over this already. Let go of your ego. It won’t hurt too much,” she asked him politely.
“Fuck, you Rachel, you bitch!” was the only thing he said, inciting ooh and aahs, and laughs from the other kids surrounding them.
Then the seas parted and the teacher arrived with the boy’s friend in tow behind.
“Get off that boy, right now young lady!” said Miss.Moore, who was a younger teacher newly hired, who had probably drawn the short straw for monitoring the students during lunch, a nice enough woman, but a little too happy for her own good. Rachel never trusted anyone that was ever too happy.
“Can’t do that, Miss Moore. Little Ricky has been a bad boy. Haven’t you Ricky?” She looked down at him ..pressing a little harder on his back for emphasis with the last sentence.
Rick, took the Fifth, like soo many before throughout history, knowing the full cost of having to think too much in high pressure situations might damn them altogether.
“Ah, silence. The great arbiter!” Rachel said to the crowd turning around to finally settle her gaze upon the teacher. By the funny look Miss Moore had upon her face, Rachel doubted she knew what the word arbiter meant.
“I don’t care what he did, get off him now. Don’t let me tell you again….” Miss Moore started to say.
“Or what? You don’t care what he did? You don’t care what he did? My sitting on him doesn’t wrangle a question out of that little head of yours? Duress or not, I will have justice or by the fickle fucking gods above I will snap his neck in front of you and everyone else here and now!” Rachel said in all the fury she could muster. She idly caught the muted whimpering of Rick below in her ear. She was a nice girl but she was quite sure she had meant what she had just said. And it didn’t scare her in the slightest.
“What, what, did he do? ” Mrs. Moore murmured, asking tentatively. The crowd was silent . A pen could have dropped (but in the grass you wouldn’t have heard it)
“Tell her, tell them all Ricky, now, and in the form of an apology as I won’t hear a lie from your lips speaking of it.” Rachel let up the pressure but laid her both hands to his head very hard into the ground.
Ricky inhaled slowly.
“I am sorry for pulling you behind the school into the woods and throwing you to ground and pulling your skirt above your head and threatening to fuck you while holding you down.”
“Tell them Ricky, tell them why it only went that far.” Rachel said in a flat quiet tone.
“Because you kicked me in the balls and then punched me in my damn throat. I’m sorry Rachel. I’m really sorry.” and then Ricky began to cry and blubber like a baby.
“I think we are done, here. Apology not accepted btw..not even until you are a hundred and two and fuck you,” she said just as quietly, as she got up from kneeling on him and simply walked away.
The End
by Philip Wardlow 2016
The Fox – Quote of the Week
“And the fox said to you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world… One only understands the things that one tames, said the fox.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery
The Marvel of a Marble
The Marvel of a Marble~
Your body, so lithe and light;
it floats effortlessly,
like a ghost lightly traversing an open space.
Pirouetting, arms flung, delicate hands in pose
All for show; for your spirit is not sovereign.
It wears a weighted vest, zipped tight.
Gravity bears down, in its
responsibility to do its part
in the relativity of all things
of keeping that piece of you
controlled….limited….reduced
and compliant.
Structure, and rules
and useless fears need not apply, yet they
do with you.
A marble rolling along a curve
may call its path predetermined
unless it chooses to jump the ledge
it glides upon.
So jump, oh glorious marble
Jump!
And find that distinctive dance
where vests are flung, and feet move of a volition
not prescribed by a choreography
found strange to your mind’s eye.
Jump! oh glorious marble, Jump!
And find where you might
finally land.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
A Storm of Crows
A Storm of Crows ~
Death has visited you, a hair’s breath of a fingertip;
yet a caress not placed.
She stared longingly and then flitted away.
You felt her. Didn’t you?
Now, where ignorance was once rooted,
fear remains fixed.
Where a true smile did reside,
now only a tumultuous dark blue sea.
For you see, you think that is all for you to see.
Push, push, push it down.
But it bubbles up and it makes you wonder why.
Will there be pain? A forever Darkness ?
A release? The End of ends? Where will I go?
Anywhere? Nowhere?
Shall I just dissolve into nothing?
Death came, it did indeed.
In a storm of crows she rode on the winds of fate.
Neither bleak nor sweet.
That has always been her way.
No malice or malcontent.
For her duty is simply to carry you away.
Not to think of things of nonsense.
In a life yet here and now.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
In your pants
Romance exists,
just as much as bullshit exists,
to get into those tight pants you’re wearing,
but I want to stay and help with the laundry
and fold those pants with you later.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Shackles
Do you feel them?
The shackles.
They chafe and bruise.
Pull against, and they pull back.
Invisible.
Tangible yet they be.
For they have a weight,
a bite…
a substance,
of the foulest metal known to man.
Strong….
welded upon your wrists
For there is no key.
Yet you walked into
them willingly
Inserted hands,
clasps closed.
Acetylene torch bright
heat burning
Skin blistering.
Hands plunged
into cold water
to quench and
strengthen the binding.
Shackles fade from sight
scars heal,
All to the naked eye.
By Philip Wardlow 2016
Blue light special
It’s okay to try and sell yourself
buts its ridiculous to put a spinning blue light on your head
while sitting in the middle of the bar…
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 