Tag Archives: black

Clarity comes to Us All Eventually


Am I such a threat,
such a fear to you?
That my place in this world
must be abated and subdued?

Do you fear me less
when I articulate
myself better than you
or do you fear me
more, in certain circles,
because I am finally
on to you, and I know
just what to do,
to make it all
untangle.

You try and wrangle my words
and even my thoughts to
fit your disposition, as if
by smiling at me, it will cause
me to smile back
in submission.

First you blinded me,
then asked my why I was blind,
then stole the cane
from my hands, struck me, stripped me
then tripped me,
sending me on down the
road, to do my time.

Yet I endured, and even though blind,
I saw with a clarity
greater than the sighted man,
ever could
and came to pity him
and the thought processes
he called an enlightened mind.

Pitied him for the man he
thought he was.
Pitied him for the dark legacy
he had wrought
and the future
to come from it.

Pitied him that he would
never know a moments rest

Pitied him because anger was
all he knew.

Pitied him for the surety of
his place in this world
and at his disappointment
when his end finally came
and my tolerate
smile turned
into
a triumphant grin

by Philip Wardlow June 2020

Something has Died


I feel the husk of its dead shell
rubbing against my innards.
Grating,
poking
No piece of it breathes
yet it prods.
Reminding me it’s always
there.
Just sitting.
Drained and desiccated,
where once
it was full
to overflowing,
now nothing
but decay
absence
a void filled
only with
black matter.
A negative life if you will
The blackest of
black
Gouge out my eyes, then tape them
over times ten and
throw me in a capped well
type of black.
Something has died
in me
And I don’t know what.
But I want it back.
Alive.
So I go in search.

by Philip Wardlow 2017