The Half-Century Man

December 10, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

Soon I shall be the Half-Centennial,
a hundred years sliced neatly
down the middle I will be, with
a plethora of histories
passings buried deep in the
very blood that flows
through me.

As gray touches lightly upon
the mostly black hair upon my head
I take solace that it is
thicker by far than
more than half the men in the world
at half my age.
And my grin still
causes a girl
or two to smile
my way in wonder
at the mystery
I may hold for her.

Though my skin may yet
be smooth
the wrinkles of time
have burrowed into
me, scarring a tired
soul once
remembered young,
once vibrant
once foolishly bold
once innocent
once true
and I weep
at that lost
for it was that not
long ago.

I fear more than I did
of death, now weary of friends
and of dreams only to become abandoned,
to relationships nurtured
only to be tainted.
Yet, I know
with each fear, each lost,
comes wisdom, perseverance,
resolve, and epiphanies to be
unbound and courage to be renewed.
for old dogs
who still wish to learn
a new trick or two.

So as my candles are lit,
my cake is set before me,
and the song is sung,
I will close my eyes
and make a grand
wish for the ages
yet to come
my way.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Resolutely Forever yours

December 5, 2019 Philip Wardlow 4 Comments

Once I was her Prince in courting,
now I am her Kingly Husband kneeling
and she my Queen and Wife,
Unwavering in love am I,
full of autumnal dreamings
never ceasing for the life and
lives we will lead
together bound fast
in charms and enchantments
that no witch or warlock
could tear asunder.

With pressed kisses we did
call all the magics of the Universe
to bear witness upon our oaths
felt true from heart to heart
as the elementals of Earth, Fire, Air
and Water danced around
our two spirits
embracing

She is my love,
and if a single tear of hers
should fall, then
so one of mine
She is my future, and my present
filling me with a need
to always be hers
in friendship, in trust,
in passions, and in
love.
Steadfast

by Philp Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Thank you for your Pain

November 6, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

Thank you for your pain, but move along
someone else just got the high
score in the game of life
and you are just not
important anymore

Contract a disease
and then we’ll talk,
depressions been
done already,
that’s last year new It girl,
and you didn’t make the cover.
Hell you didn’t even get
a mention towards
the back.

You could always present us
up with a new dilemma, something
tortuous and glorious
something for the ages
And we’ll spy with our little
eye, and give a word or two
of sanctimonious advice
trying not to sound trite
as we hand out a like or love
like its a piece of gold.

But please, seriously, move along
you are taking up
space.

by Philip Wardlow

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Plants need watering

November 6, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

The flower sits on the table, withering,
it looks tired now. Slumped.
Sad.
Dead dry leaves litter the ground
around it.
Perhaps not watered enough, perhaps
drowned with rotted roots
Perhaps too much sun as it
sat in a hot room,
or were the shades drawn too tight
not allowing enough light?
Choked off in some way
it was, to look so.
Either way it was neglected.
Best just to throw
it way now.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Connections

November 5, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

I connected with you but you never knew,
all hundred of you.

Did you ever feel a light tickle on your neck or a
tap on the shoulder?

That was me just saying hello.

Much the distant spectator
string in hand, held tight to the kite of you
as you danced in the wind.

I either smiled, laughed, or cried
just a bit, soaking up
the moment that you offered
out.

Until I simply decided to let go
to watch you escape into
the sky.

By Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

Tying you up

September 11, 2019 Philip Wardlow 2 Comments

Never,
was I great at tying knots in the Boy Scouts;
Square Knot
Clove Hitch
Bowline
Sheet Bend
Two Half-Hitches
and the Taunt Line-Hitch.
They all ran together
and daunted my clumsy fingers,
yet I persisted and received my badge

A year later
I was not in Boy Scouts
and I had no use for knots
So I soundly forgot everyone of them
All that knowledge had leaked from my brain
wiped clean memory as if it had
never been.
I even sucked at tying my shoes.

Fast forward, thirty years later
I took up knot tying again for other reasons
less academic
and most assuredly extracurricular.
Your earnest eyes came seeking it, calling for it
needing it.
I answered your compulsions
as they mirrored my own,
proudly perverse in spirit.

I am still clumsy, still fumbling,
but my passion for you will carry
me through to mastery one day,
for a sureness of hand
along with a clever
deftness of skill
to intertwine your body,
quench your desires,
and a satiate soul seeking
to be tied to me and by me
forever.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Padded Perfection

September 9, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

We slave to have everything,
we fight the world for “ours”,
we strive for perfection,
we seek a look of a dream
that shimmers and undulates
from a hot arid
plane
at the edge
of a horizon
containing all our fears and doubts

This seeming perfect way
of anything is bullshit
it’s just bullshit
everyone thinks they’re better than the other
vanity abounds as pride flattens them
under the gravity of their
making
always pushing, and pushing
down, down, down.

Their way is the best way, cant you see?
And if you can’t, well sorry, you are just
not as cultured as them.
There are no gray areas, only
high contrasts and muted voices
in a bubble.

Light and dark
banging against the other
until all the world
goes mad
held tight in a bright white straight jacket
in a dark as pitch
padded room.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds

Applying for the Job of Death

August 28, 2019 Philip Wardlow 11 Comments

To Whom it may Concern,

I saw your ad in the Daily Death Bugle for an opening for the Death position that had recently become available in your department.

I can’t tell you how delighted I was to see the position finally open up after so many eons of waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting…sorry (I have waited quite a while)

Please see attached resume regarding my education and experience on all things related to death and in my earlier years with dismemberment only as I was still learning what it truly meant to properly and with great honor take someone’s soul.

My brief stint of education at DIT (The Death Institute of Technology) wetted my appetite for all things Death, so I then chose to enroll with the esteemed Reaper University to properly round out my skills and attain, as you see, my Masters ,Majoring in Reaping with a Minor in Pottery. I have trapped many a soul in my stylish handmade cookie jars mind you, and they sell really well at the Arts and Craft Festival every year.

I believe my collaboration and internship work with various mortuaries, churches, casinos, and funny enough, oriental massage parlors gave me a unique perspective that Death is always lurking around the corner. I am ready, willing and able to creep around any corner put in front of me with vigor and steadfastness to this ancient glorious trade to see that the job gets done.

Please consider me for this Reaper position as I believe I am the only entity for the job with the right mix and balance of perversion, passion and education to get the job done, and done right the first time, as you can only kill a person once they say.

Sincerely,

Philip “The Grim” Wardlow

666 Scythe Lane
Purgatory, MI
http://www.reaperofsouls.com
616-666-6666

GiFs for your Entertaiment, Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

The Death of Melody

August 23, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

I have heard that Melody
in music is dying,
stripped down
to either Harmony,
Rhythm, or Tone.
Using only 3 Notes,2,1, or None
to get the job done
and feed the
hungry masses.

People still love the
new music though.
I have at times.
It’s got a good beat
and you can dance to it
and might have
something clever
to deliver
that clicks into
you gently.

But most of it’s shit
cuz there’s
no flow
up and down the scale
flirting
with the emotional
peaks and valleys
of the soul
pulling something
out of you
involuntarily
beyond your control.

Now, most of it feels
recycled, overused
or too simple
like your ABCs

I don’t wish for Melody
to die
I wish for it to thrive
and come alive

So maybe, just maybe
it’ll jumpstart
my heart and reawaken
the Melody in me.

by Philip Wardlow 2019

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work, The EROTIC ZONE

On first meeting

August 22, 2019 Philip Wardlow Leave a comment

On first sight,
I did smile,
eyes drinking you in like a warm
red sweet wine,
rolling the taste
around with my tongue
slowly savoring,
before swallowing you
down,
trying to satiate a thirst
you created
with just
one devastating look
my way.

On first kiss,
the universe coalesced
between our lips
electrons comingled
energies shared,
released in cataclysmic
meeting, we danced
together you and I
body and soul
hand in hand
orbiting, revolving
and falling
into the others
gravity,
pulling and
savoring the magic
in the resonance
between
the other,
knowing none like it
that had ever come before.

On first parting,
an almost ripping,
a tearing of souls
seamed together
like a fine soft silk
blanketing us
both in a commanding
comfort
of a home
we had never known
yet sought,
with surety
we knew
that through patience
and the
wrestling of fate
we would
meet
again to make
the universe
dance for us
in the home
of our own
creation.