Category Archives: Poetry Work

A collection of various poems I have written in relation to horror, fantasy or the supernatural

The Rush comes not in Lazy Days


The rush comes not in the lazy days
where modicum rules the self,
and the mediocre distractions
gestates the soul,
feeding it the sweet
sugar it needs
to bloating,
instead it comes
in the quiet asides
in bed,
head to pillow
eyes up in darkness
flashing lightning like
self betrayals upon the
ceiling,
played out as a silent movie
in fits and starts
with no ending or
denouement.
It comes in the hectic
angry busy
same shit different day
hours of
needle piercing the skin
confrontations to
a life squandered
to the delusion
that the next corner
coming will
turn you to
find a
glorious parade
in your name
A name you never earned.
Nor fought for
but expected nonetheless.
So rush,
rush,
rush,
those
days when found to your liking,
for they are few and in between,
a mess of tangled
leavings that you
should have left far
behind
but sought to
carry,
making you
all the lazier
for it.


by Philip Wardlow 2018

Coming with


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I’m coming with,
if
we’re close in death
and your spirit wants
to go before
I’ll be hugging you tight
as the heroin goes in us
both
Then my dear friend
with my hand in yours
we’ll let that
euphoric concoction
swim through
to envelop to a quiet warmth
until we walk off that
cliff
And we go flying
High
High
High
Away
Letting go
in search of the
far
far
far
away.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

 

My Porcelain Princess


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She’s my porcelain princess,
precious and breakable
smooth like soft white cashmere
I love her most
wrapped naked up
under a blanket
Let me get it in under
and keep you warm
Let me get
In you
and ignite
that body
Setting it off
to melting
Drip, drip, dripping
Pale, snow thighs
opening
As I settle into my
home away from
home
Where, there is no place like you.
My caramelness
mingling,
In your pinkness,
My amber hands exploring
Pearly curves
waiting to be found
as I delve deep
into your embrace softly
electric
Your kiss kinetic,
falling with potential
Into you as you beg
for more and more
of me.
And oh,
I give it to
My little porcelain girl

The Best Feels


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It’s the best when
your need of me
matches my own
for you.
When our passions
demands the best
of us
to open up,
seeking our truths
that we can only reveal
in those delicate
secret hours
between dusk
and dawn.
Coming out either
In the deep penetration
of the physical
or the soft
pulling of intimate
words exchanged
with a kiss.
No love comes
closer.
Cuz I always
strive for those
feels
And you are
the best
at the
giving
I have ever known.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2018

 

Head Down Eyes up


I need to bleed
Sweat
Feel Spent
Go numb to the world,
Say fuck you and you
without regret
because they keep
on doing what they do
whenever the fuck they
want.
Dog eat Dog world
right?
I’m a mongrel
A mixed breed.
I don’t fit in with
any of the pedigrees
that
like to fawn stroke
each other’s egos
like their
wasn’t a million before
just like ’em or a million to come after
I’m hearing the Universe’s laughter
for me or for them,
doesn’t matter
cuz
I’m digging deep
while their skimming
I’m running free
while their scheming.
I’m choking that bitch
called life
legs open,
she’s asking for me
to give her more
So I put my
head down
and go to work.
Eyes up.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

The Twistings of Feeling


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I don’t want to
fight the tight
winding tornado
that spins and ravages
within,
Let it rage I say
It’s been corralled
too long
way too long.
But what of
of its desolation?
Tornadoes
are not creatures
of creation
but of beautiful obliteration.
What good
could ever come
of its release?
Perhaps,
Just perhaps,
Once the whirlwind
Dies upon
Release
A silent peace
will follow
and the
world will
right
And settle,
Slowly
Bit
by
Falling
Bit
Into
Place
Again
On a clear
swept
Field.

By Philip Wardlow

Tensions and Potentials


Funny how a day plays
Out
From all the rest
In
the moment of a crash
Between
worlds never knowing
Upon
the other’s shoulders
What
weights they bear in silence
Who
they fear in ignorance
Why
roads are traveled
When
all the open paths
Array
around them
Pulling
at heart strings
Confounding
A mind conflicted
toward
either violent ends or
after
internal deliberation
to
peaceful meditation
where
past sins
are
finally
put
to bed
And wistful dreams
meander
in now a
serenely
quiet
head.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

I Dreamt of Francesca


 

Her face is always shadowed
in my dreams
Yet, if I ever saw her in
the waking world
I know she would shine
like warm magic
radiating across
a darkened room
like a beacon.
No matter the distance I
stood,
her gaze
would find my own
staring into the heart
of her.
Deep and knowing,
she would see
that missing part
long sought
Seen only in her own dreams of me.
I would kiss her then,
without a doubt.
My hands on her waist
pulling her in,
just ever so.
No resistance would come
Only a heavy sigh
of her finally
coming home.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

I think that’s my problem


 

 

I didn’t use to care where the day took me too much.  I didn’t care to have a grand plan on where my life was going.  I was enjoying the journey, the experiences, the places, and the small changes in me that lifted.

Now, I think too much.  Way too much on the proper placement of a day, an hour, or a minute.  I want those self imposed puppet strings cut and to walk this life unfettered, unknotted, from my limited post of reason stuck in the hard hard ground of a seeming need to control a life that doesn’t need controlling, but living.

I get angry, tense, anxiety ridden, depressed, melancholy, or lost at sea when the world in me doesn’t sync up with the rest of the outer.

But that feeling flows away, when I remember all the times when the world did make sense, gave comfort, seemed on my side, or drew me into a content embrace telling me a secret I didn’t know I sought.

You are home child. You  are home.

Enjoy the morning rising. Feel the flash of life.  Take a breath , now really breath it in and exhale it all out.

That’s all you need says the Universe,  that calming breath.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2018

 

My Stardust Companion


 

There is no doubt, not an ounce
that some of my atoms were compressed
tight to the millionth of magnitudes
against some of yours
Kissing, real French like
if you know what I mean,
in that coalescing, condensed
cosmic cloud
out in the lonely dark
in an endless time.
Then Bam!
We were torn apart
just about when
I was almost
to second base
You were gone,
Far flung.
We both did our own thing then
for eons, on top of eons
Flying in a comet or two,
playing in the solar winds
making new friends
and losing a few to
the gravity of
a Universe slowly,
ever slowly coming
into view.
But, I still remembered you
in all my travels…
that energy, that vibrating
frequency, that was
a signature all your own
I felt it out there
amongst all the seeming chaos,
I felt you.
And now you have come
to sidle up tight
against me once again.
So let’s start over with that kiss
and let the planet we now
find ourselves on,
spin and spin and spin.

by Philip Wardlow 2018