Life can feel like this sometimes, a never-ending horde of zombies.
But you gotta punch, kick, …fight fight fight…
and say “fuck you little dead eyed bastards….”
’til eventually you are the last one standing.
by Philip Wardlow
Nice little tidbit of a poem here by a fellow blogger…and I’m a sucker with anything that has to do Spiderman just a little…:)

Forgive me,
for I did not know you as I had surmised;
silent, thoughtful,
and smiling in the corner
were merely a rippling
long flowed
downstream.
by Philip Wardlow
When I read any book by an author I like to read the Author’s note and any forward they may have written. I personally like to get a sense of who this person is that wrote this book. What made them tick…so below are some of the things that might give you perspective into who I am and who I am not perhaps. I don’t know, I will let you be the judge. I for one hate self analysis because we lie to ourselves more than we lie to others. Perhaps you’ll see something in me that I don’t see myself…
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My mother had me when she was 29….my father was 59 at the time…He died when I was 12…He was 72, the age a grandfather should be.
Often my mother would leave our father at the drop of a hat..taking me & my brothers away…we lived in 18 different homes growing up.
Security seemed to be a liquid state to me as a young child…no solid friends..no real home to speak of…life always in transition.
My mother signed my older and younger brother up in the Big Brother Volunteer program at the local college…me I did not get one. She believed I was the adjusted one and didn’t need it I guess.
My older brother William participated in sports and played a musical instrument at school. I think I wanted to but was never asked by my mother, besides money was tight and he got first dibs.
I don’t really like my family.
I love them but I don’t LIKE any of them…in certain ways I am sure they don’t like me. I am not perfect. I have quirks and issues I am sure, that annoy the hell out of them….your typical dysfunctional family.
I WANT to like them. But as I have gotten my life together in some semblance of normalcy they have still not to one degree or another. So I AVOID them if I can because its a DRAG.
Am I selfish? Should I feel guilty? At times I do. At others, NOT in the slightest…Blood is NOT thicker than water at times. AT TIMES you need to live for your self and be selfish….I had to learn that was okay.
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I am forty-three…
I hate my age…
And not for the reason you think. I hate it because I really started going after what I really wanted in my late -30s…which is as you can see is Writing…
I try not dwell on the almost 20yrs of wasted time of not pursuing it….”OH the things I could have written in that time” flow through my head at the oddest and most inconvenient moments.
But I shut that annoying voice out and carry on.
Also at forty-three I wish to stay in shape ..so I work out on a constant basis. I have a sucky metabolism so I must.
I work out to look & feel good for myself, my wife and any lady passerby on the street who wants to check me out…:)
I didn’t always think I was a handsome person. I kind of had an ugly duckling syndrome. I grew up with a gap in my teeth and because we couldn’t afford to pay for an orthodontist, so the gap stayed . We also were a poor family that didn’t have the ” cool” clothes or stuff so I was pretty much ignored by other kids at a certain age.
I still have the gap but wear better clothes. My wife and others have convinced me that I don’t look hideous. I will take their word for it.
Seriously though my confidence has grown over the years with that. (still have trouble with big smiles in pictures..so I look mean or stoic or something half the time in them)
I always like a compliment….who doesn’t. So go ahead tell me I’m cute I can take it…:)
I think I will wrap it up here for now….perhaps I will share more of myself in later posts….now you know just a little more about me. I am going to go relax and read a good book now.
The Strength of Her – A poem
She is solid.
A brick wall could not withstand the onslaught she takes
upon herself in a day.
Crumblings of broken mortar would be the only memory of it.
Limits in place may try and take hold
of a body pushed to the extreme,
but her mind says. “Nuh, uh. I ain’t having none of that”
Tired, but tireless.
Her core is molten lava
never cooling,
always moving,
burning through
shit as it travels.
Stay the fuck out of her way.
Back up.
Let her work.
Just smile, and admire, and admit
silently to yourself
how you wish you were her.
By Philip Wardlow
World Rhino Day is coming this Sunday! Check out FIght for Rhinos Blog about it People!
Sunday, September 22 is World Rhino Day.
Most of us aren’t going to be wearing the “Save the Rhino” costumes and holding signs on Sunday, but we CAN do something. So what will you be doing on World Rhino Day?
Visit your local zoo. Many of them are hosting events and activities to involve children and adults alike; from educational opportunities to tours of the rhino bomas.
Sign and share petitions.
http://www.avaaz.org/en/save_rhinos/
http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/foreverwild/
http://forcechange.com/15195/end-the-poaching-and-smuggling-of-rhino-horns/
http://www.thepetitionsite.com/295/569/622/stop-brutal-slaughter-of-rhinos/
Share articles and blogs (Fight for Rhinos is a good one 😉 ) to raise awareness. Tell everyone who will listen about the fight for their lives, about the questionable future of their species.
If you are able to, donate to one of the trusted organizations who work tirelessly to save them. Any of the links listed on the left of this page are reputable groups. It’s an expensive job, without regular income to help…
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Oh Raven, you may tap,tap,tap,
incessant in your endeavors to ever trap
me in your tangled lies ten feet deep.
I be not such a fool to fall sway to your unearthly rules
of tortuous maladies you delight in inflicting on ever passerby
you do seek to see that lies in your line of darkest sight.
Your taunts as you perch and preen on pedestal high
do naught a thing to one such as I.
Your guile lies transparent as a ghost.
A thrown token. shiny and bright to fall at my feet.
Yet, as I do bend down to pick it up,
you no sooner pilfer my pockets of my weeks hard earned
fortune as you seek to simply
call it black luck where I would be none the wise.
Nevermore you say!
Bah, I say . Be gone this night before the morn
brings the dawn and turns your cheeky words
to flotsam to be carried away on the shore’s
of my discontent.
You may know the depth of many souls
as you may know mine,
but there is no barter to be had, no wager to be paid.
MY soul is my own.
No matter how dark and cold.
By Philip Wardlow
Check out this beautiful piece of artwork that won as entry to the Fight for Rhino blog I follow…
This beautiful fabric painting was created by Karen Moorhouse. Her inspiration, Pembe, is the baby rhino born at the Colchester Zoo in the UK. Her name means “horn” in swahili.
The intricate symbolism is as follows:
Bees: Refer to research which has shown that bees can be trained to detect substances like rhino horn, which can help curb poaching. Bees can be taught to associate the rhino smell with sugar water and have a powerful sense of smell. They are easier and cheaper to transport to border posts where they can be used to detect smuggled rhino horn.
Bow-arrow: The hunter (originates from the Bushmen in the Kalahari Desert expressing daily routines on rock art) represents the past needs for hunting for survival purposes. Nowadays hunting is no longer necessary and therefore the hunter aims outward.
Warthogs: Represents a wider perspective of other animals living in harmony within an…
View original post 89 more words
I’ve seen many talented people out there with pieces on rhinos, elephants and making a statement about poaching. I would love to showcase some of your work here on Fight For Rhinos. If you are interested, please submit poetry and drawings, etc to http://www.fightforrhinos@gmail.com
This is an open invitation and there is no deadline. If your work is selected, I will inform you via email.
Keep up the great work people! Rhinos need our attention! Can’t wait to see what you’ve got 😉
I dip my dick
into a wine flute
filled with Pinot Grigio
Now,
Taste.
What does your tongue tell you?
Are you a connoisseur?
Tell me the year.
I will pour you anything you prefer.
Now.
Spread your legs and let my
fingers linger until a raging
wetness ensues.
Now,
You must choose.
Grape or strawberry?
Pop Rocks go in and
mingle inside your moistness
Crackle…Crackle…Pop!
Mmmmmm…
Strawberry…good choice.
Now,
Remove the ice cold Coca Cola
from the fridge,
Pop the cap, pour it out and
plunge it in your pussy deep.
Your body shudders as you
exhale slowly.
Now,
Bottle removed
I enter with all the warmth of the sun.
Your body shudders again
as you exhale.
Now,
Time for the grape.
By Philip Wardlow 2013
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 2013
Lazy Days
Orb bright over head,
Naked we lay…tanning.
I kiddingly ask if I can lay the palm
of my hand on your ass
and just leave it there.
I tell you casually while the sun bakes us,
that we have about another 100,000 yrs
of evolution to go before we stop believing
the bullshit we speak now.
Dark clouds move in as old Mr. Nimbus blows.
A storm is coming…hopefully it only
blows away the shit we don’t need in
our lives.
Sorry babe…
Feeling melancholy again I guess.
I get lost in the fantasy, because the reality of it all,
is so much different than we suppose.
Fantasy….Reality? Each one has its place.
Haven’t decided which of the two is
stranger yet.
We grab our towels as old Mr. Nimbus spits on us
and go inside to have nice a cold beer .
Philip Wardlow 2013
KISA Syndrome
“Why ME?” she asks
I don’t know.
Because you let me in.
Because you’re a good person.
Beautiful,
Intelligent,
Passionate,
But most of all because you’re so full of despair.
…and I have a sword.
Philip Wardlow 2013
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Above three poems originally featured in an online publication called Boyslut – http://boyslutpublications.com/
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Health, Reflection, and Poetry for the Journey of Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽
undone in spectacle
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Health, Reflection, and Poetry for the Journey of Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
poetry, fiction, and musings
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Design, and Pottery
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants. It's all about the books we read
weird alien 👽