Tag Archives: anger

You think you have me all figured out


A man tells me he knows me,
has me all figured out.
He has got me all encapsulated
in a little box
Man, I don’t even know me,
so how do you?

So please just shut up
just shut the fuck up
Telling me I shouldn’t see color
Shit man, I can only be blind to color
once the world allows me to be blind to it.

I am black, I am a brown, I am white,
whatever shade you would like,
whatever hue, whatever tone,
please ascribe.
Define me, ridicule and deride me,
you will never know the true me
beneath my skin let alone
what’s in these old bones I call my home
because you haven’t held them
and walked in ’em
feeling the full weight
of ’em.
You haven’t begun
to figure me out
But you will one day
as will I.

by Philip Wardlow

Words of Discontentment – A poem


 

Words of Discontentment –Jester

I will just sit here and smile
like a marionette
with a painted on grin.

Shall that make you happy?

Nothing is wrong.
Seeeeeeeee….:)
I’m smiling just for you.
Aren’t I a good little boy?

Why should there ever be anything wrong?
Yes. Yes. Pat me on the head
All is fine in Whoville.
Why talk when
you can just
live in your own world of favored
opinions that works
just for you.

Judge me. Throw me away.
I have no friend.

I would hold your hand as you
walked through hell.

But you would kick me there
just to not be offended by
my presence you have already
deemed unworthy of your
company.

I guess I didn’t rate.
I guess the present I brought to
the party was found wanting
from the rest.

I guess I thought too much
of a friendship that was never
there.

by Philip Wardlow

 

 

In a Dark Cave


In a Dark Cave

I see the unseen

knife twist in your gut.

It slices into me as well,

a pale shadow to yours,

but I feel it just the same.

If I could take it all I would,

to eliminate what you feel.

from sunrise to sunset.

I admire your strength,

I cry at times

I love it so.

Your torments deserve accolades but instead you

just get more of the same pain

day after day.

I wish I could name your enemy,

put form to the intangible,

call out your pain to the floor

and wrestle it into submission.

I dream of being a knight,

riding out to the field to slay the dragon

that breathes its fire into you

from afar.

I would cut off its head and stab it

through its evil heart.

But your pain is hidden,

in a dark cave it dwells deep.

I have no torch bright enough

to enter its depths to pull the

foul beast out.

So I will sit,

I will watch,

I will console

The night with you

next to the fire in your embrace.

and I will simply wait.

By Philip Wardlow