Tag Archives: depression

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

Melancholy Man


tumblr_lk62ltcMfj1qd6pkuo1_500-5669

I got reasons and I have none
For the times I smile and the times
I dont
But please know, you saved
The melancholy man in me
Yes, you surely did save
this melancholy man.
That kiss you give,
those eyes that see me
Truly
You saved me
And my muddling mind
It’s coming to focus again
On the wonder
The rare,the magic,
the potential
And hope in everyone
I feel it rising
like my
Love for you
Already has.
So stay forever my sweetness
And keep this
melancholy man
company

By Philip Wardlow 2018

 

Adrift


Where waves once gently lapped
now they churn
and pound
relentless.

Once anchored,
now moorings torn
dragged out to sea
all now adrift.

Rising phasing fickled moon
taunts like a schoolyard bully
cold and biting
as it sinks away with the
promised sun,
and its burdensome
loathing gonging heat.

Just an insignificant bobber
afloat,
Eyes staring at the nothing and inward
universe, wondering at the why
of it all, and the wanderings
we seek when the world calls.

Fish nibble at toes,
Tasting,
Sharks circle,
Waiting
For the final death throws,
for most like an easy
meal under an early
morning light.

Delirium
brings a dark, dark,
silhouette
against a lit azure sky.
Pulling…tugging
…breathing life…commanding a body and mind
long past dead to
to snap back to resolution.

Blackness enfolds,
Awake,
softness holding
in a quiet room abiding
of the whitest white
With distant shore finally reached.
As a gentle lapping at the shore
comes to finally an open ear
ready to finally hear.

A new way of life.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Reaching Her


a_girl_on_a_cliff___heat_by_tearstinttraintracks-d486po0

Some days are often dreams
she wakes from,
half remembered.
Perhaps best
forgotten.
Tears are given,
gravity catching,
taken by a lover far below
the sheer cliff she sits.
He climbs to her,
tears clutched tight
Ever ascending
Slow, ponderously,
Inch
by
Inch
By
Inch
He is a patient man
looking up,
giving her a full
loving smile
There is no other
place he’d rather be
For the view is
spectacular below
and above
to the girl
he’s trying to
reach.

By Philip Wardlow

 

 

Lost One


1a7a605d-66ce-4e45-87c3-65df728b0c9f

I’m a melancholy mind
floating in forgotten winds
never fully
free of the damaged
parts that float around,
hard to catch,
hard to see unless
you look deep into me
I want you to, yet
I fear you are too distracted
and I cant blame you
for who you are but
I need you to see.
No one has really
ever found it but
I want you to.
I fear you cant.
The beautiful kid
that is still lost
and needs to find the way back
To run, to laugh,
With a new heart in hand
But this sun is
Blinding
And home is only
a made up memory
that already set

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Unprocessed


I learned long ago
to bury my feelings in every
day life
the highs and the lows.
Why be happy when its just going to be
taken away in an instant.
And why show you are sad when you will
just bring every one down and they
really don’t care anyways.
So I smile. I joke.
I say I’m good, how about you,
to turn the conversation
away from me.
I have always been good at that.

But it builds in me
This tension.
Stresses of the day, anger at people, fears in life, continued failures.
I hold it.
I do much better inside when I let it out.
And I do.
Like reading a book, or watching a movie
I fall away from the world and I am just am.
Pushing my body in a work out, hard, really hard.
Having good sex, really good sex.
A good stiff drink.
Retreating.

But I’m working up to a better version of attack.
Talking to someone I trust to find
the feelings I can’t express or bring to
focus to what’s inside me that hides there even from me.
Like why I feel anxiety about seemingly stupid things I
shouldn’t.
Unresolved anger that I say doesn’t bother
me but does.
Why I fear a future I should love to imagine.
Hitting a punching bag helps,
riding my bike, free, unfettered
in the sun, in the wind
Away from the world.
Helps

But engaging really is the key.
I am releasing that need to
keep that wall sustained
I think it has hurt me way more
than it has ever helped

I want my melancholy to melt
I want my mind to connect
and my smile to flourish
in every possible way.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Mr. Mucky Muck


Climbing out of the mucky muck
getting out of the quicksand
of me
Expulsing the meandering mélange of
my bluesy Eeyore ways.
Striking a chord of resonance
to perchance
take a chance
on the what-if
of a life
less melancholy.
Stomp, stomp, stomp that fear.
Pull, push, fly against that gravity
paddle, run, roll
down that hill
Letting the fall aid my
cause.
Oh you mucky muck
you doldrums,
you insidious funk
I will take thee
by the scruff
and shake thee about
and shout in your ear
get out, get out, get out.
Slink you well away.
Ooze on down the road.
Mr. Muck
You are not wanted here.
No matter how well you look
in that three piece suit
and your comedic
bravado,
You will always fall
short as a true friend
no matter how comfortable
you seem in your skin
I see all to clearly below
that shady veneer
So goodbye
Mr. Mucky Muck,
Goodbye.

Philip Wardlow 2017

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

 

Do you ever (or Thoughts by Eeyore)


Do you ever

feel

just in the way,

like a curtain covering up

the sunny day.

Do you ever feel like this

place on earth was tolerating

the space you filled,

just waiting for you to finally go away.

Do you ever feel like time marches

at a molasses pace with

a half-eaten carrot dangling just

out of reach.

Do you ever feel like sounds

come into frame

but no picture forms

in the mind

because your synapses 

are sick of all the bullshit that

came before so it doesn’t

care to entertain reality anymore.

Do you ever?

Because I sometimes do.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

My appetite


 

spectactular

She comes home

and does what she wants.

Does what? We don’t know.

She wont say.

But it’s not much,

because she’s cut off and closed away.

Far and in-between the what-if

of her.

She is a melancholy angry mess

I can’t put my thumb on her

and she’d break it if I tried.

But I do, because I can, and she lets me pry;

however reluctantly,

because that’s all I have ever done.

I speak the truth, because lies are boring vicious things.

Even though the truth is often painful

as a motherfucker,

it’s freeing,

casual and a sweetness

rolled into a ball and

swallowed down

that speaks to my

appetite.

Which always

hungers.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016