Tag Archives: devil

Down at the Crossroads


I’m down at the Crossroads, but the Devil is late…
He must be on another date.
Think I’ll sit a spell.
He’ll come along, oh he’ll come along
I’m too good a treat.
Just you wait
He’ll come along.

Time is a crawl,
the sun dropping like cold molasses
down a stuccoed wall.

I spy a crow staring at me
from across the road
he sits in shadowed tree.
He knows.
This crow has seen many a men such as I.
Whether from the East, out of well worn dreams
the West, where disillusion abounds,
the South, where love was lost a hundred times.
or the North where the hidden want to be found.

All I know
is that I’m boned tired.
As raw as a bone can be
One, any dog would love to gnaw.

So I sit, for there is still
somethin’ deep within
residing, abiding the day.
And all I need is for him
to set it free.

A thousand times a thousand
A million sunsets,
A million souls
bartered and bought
I’ll just be another on his roll.

My ears never hear an approach
As my back feels his grin
I turn to him
as the sun drops away
into hell I suppose
to keep the fires burning

Nary a foot separates
as he sits
legs folded delicately
as if he’s always been
He looks left
He looks right
He looks behind
Then ahead at me
and smiles
so confidently
like a fisherman
with his catch
flopping on the deck of his boat.

In that moment, I see,
he needs me.
No matter the grin
or the dark eyes.
He is afraid

This creature
is Lost.

He can do nothing
I could not.
So I jump up from that spot
Give him a grin of my own
and turn with a tip of my
hat to the crow.
Who only caws at me with
a laugh,
as I walk the road that
faces me.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Cute as a Button –

Cute as a Button ~


She is cute as a button but that button is sewed onto the dark lapels of the devil

She’s a handful, a handful of hurt with a side of outrageousness

spilling over onto the floor and making a hell of a mess

for me to clean up.

Cheeky smiling girl,

Oh, what a monkey you are…

Come down from that fucking tree, you are much

too high and the wind is howling

and the bough is ready to break.

Miss dangerous. A big red light blinking.

But would I take her any other way?

That corner, that question mark, that hill

I want to turn it each time, see the  answer revealed

and the top to be reached.

She’s cute as a wicked  little buttondevil button

could ever be.


by Philip Wardlow


The Devil is Dealt – A poem


The Devil is Dealt –

So, I say.

Let the Devil show his face

I know him well but it doesn’t

mean we are friends.

He doesn’t watch my house when

I am on vacation, or babysit

my kids.

Sure, we share a drink and a laugh

about that crazy neighbor down

the street.

But he’s not my buddy.

He can be a little needy at times

ya know.

Always in my face as I go to get

the mail and wanting to talk,

looking at me over the fence,

wanting to borrow my weed-wacker

and never returning it.

But I tolerate him,

I guess I feel sorry for him.

He has no family to speak of, I see no friends

come to visit.

He just sits on the porch and mumbles

to himself late at night

smoking that damn cigar.

I guess I see a little myself in him

but it’s time to cut him


Else he’ll just keep coming

around more often.

by Philip Wardlow 2014

Devil May Care – 30 Day Halloween Challenge – A poem a day – Poem#6


Devil May Care

They call me Mr. Mysterious,

Darkness who wears a black hat and a devious grin.

Clever, crude, quick to charm but  never

a prude.

Your sins have invited me in.

So there is no need for fear, for you

see, I truly care that you see me

as I see you.

Shadows dance for my pleasure

For they are the ones you cast

and fling out with pure abandon.

I am a hunter in my heart.

Pure and simple, you are my prey.

Collecting you as simply as a little butterfly in

a mason jar.

And how I love to see you flit and

fly about, reckless with no direction

until SNAP!

You sit upon my myriad of shelves

far far below.

Simple part of my collection until

time runs out of time.

on your miserable little soul.

by Philip Wardlow

The Place Down Under – My very first story at the age of 16

Well I scrounged through some of my very old stuff…and I mean old stuff looking for something I could revive and breathe life back into again. One thing you should know about me is that I keep almost everything I have ever written…..poems,  journals,  writing assignments, grocery lists,  etcs…..

In my pot of gold of stuff I found  theeeeeee very first story I ever wrote for an writing assignment in  my 10th grade English class. Its one of those assignments where the teacher gives you a list of ten vocabulary words your learning for the week and you have to use them in a story. You are only given the class time to complete the story so you have to be quick.

The title of the story scribbled in blue ink on the top of my paper was “The Place Down Under” .   On the top of the paper in red ink above the title was my letter grade of an “A”. Don’t let that fool you. I believe we were just getting graded on us knowing the vocabulary and not really for story content or grammar.

I will let you be the judge whether it was a good story for a sixteen old to write or not. After that I will reveal what the teacher wrote and said to me later regarding this very story which affected me greatly…so here goes…enjoy this little story.  MY FIRST EVER!  (also I will italicize the vocab words for you I had to know just for fun)

“The Place Down Under”

There once was a man named Henry Pym, who believed that he was the perfect human. He had a good job and a nice family; he was healthy and expected to live a long happy life, but suddenly his life was snuffed out  by a man, who was more or less a little crazy that stabbed him in the bathroom of an exquisite restaurant in the heart of  New York City.

Well we find Henry Pym dead, walking down a never-ending hallway. The decorum was little less than conventional; blood-red portraits hung on the walls of the hallway, dead bodies littered the floor causing  Henry to trip over them  occasionally.

Henry Pym must have guessed that this was hell because he called for Satan himself.

“Oh Satan! O Satan!” Henry called.

Suddenly his surroundings changed and he found himself in a darkly lit cavernous room in which sat a man on a throne of bloody bones. Henry was very optimistic that he had found Satan or perhaps Satan had found him. Just to make sure he asked the man on the throne if he was indeed truly Satan.

“Would you be perhaps be the unholiest of holys my dear sir. The foulest of fiends that ever existed? ” Henry tried not to sound rude to the man but how do you ask such a question and not.

The man threw back his head and just laughed at him.

“No, you little egotist. I’m the Tidy Bowl man come to clean your toilet. “

“You must think I’m pretty gullible to believe a lie like that?” Henry replied

“No, I don’t think your gullible I just think your pretty stupid.”  the man on the throne replied.

Henry ignored the reply and asked Satan; for he was pretty sure now that this was Satan, why he had ended up in hell. Satan produced a clipboard from thin air  and started thumbing through it and flipping pages  and scanning down some list Henry could not see.

“Hmmm…it seems your soul took a wrong turn somewhere ..or perhaps God made a mistake on purpose and sent you to me.  He does that on occasion you know; maybe he doesn’t like you either.”

Henry stomped his foot and told Satan to send him to heaven or he would do something to harm him.  Satan laughed again and stood up from his throne of bones. Which Henry thought idly, didn’t look very comfortable to sit on.

“This is my domain. I rule here! You cannot give me an ultimatum ordering me to do anything! Besides, God and I are not on the best of terms. We have very incompatible natures you might say…we don’t see eye to eye on certain subjects. He has this crazy obsession with goodness and well-being and things like compassion…blah blah blah…which I can’t stand. Oh I must stop talking. It’s starting to make my head hurt bringing up all those horrible things.

Satan sat back on his throne and put his head down. To Henry Pym he almost looked depressed. Then a small trickle of a tear fell from Satan’s left eye and his body shuddered and he started to cry full on into his lap.

Henry thought it would be indiscreet to say anything more. Henry had never been very good at consoling crying people,  let alone the Devil, so he left in a very versatile manner out of the cavernous room through a small dark tunnel.

Henry could still hear Satan’s loud sniffling and bawling carrying to his ear as he crawled down the tunnel far away from him.  Henry soon forgot about him and wondered where the exit door was hiding to get him the hell out of hell…


Conclusion forthcoming soon as I get another

assignment to write a another  story or until Superman stops wearing

my long underwear.

I hoped you found that entertaining. I know the story wasn’t riveting but hey I was sixteen. Needless to say I never did a get a chance to write the sequel to this and get Henry Pym out of hell. He has unfortunately been wondering there for quite some time.

Well my teacher wrote at the very bottom of this story on the last page in red ink this phrase.  “What an imagination!” 

She later came to me and recommended that I switch from regular English to Honors English because she thought my time was being wasted here in her class.  Her recommendation propelled me into various books I never would have read at an early age and an appreciation for literature that excites me and guides me to this day in my reading and writing…and for that I want to thank her very much.

Than you Ms. Sikkema wherever you are. Did I mention she was a lesbian…before it was cool to be a lesbian and that she had told us story of her stealing a school bus when she was younger..she was so cool…I guess that’s why I have such a fondness for lesbians now…(sorry that last part I was thinking out loud). Thanks for listening.

Ain’t no rest for the wicked….really I’m not that wicked except wicked good!

Ain’t no rest for the Wicked” Yes that’s the title of my BLOG….I picked the  title for several reasons….

One because I really liked the song of the  same name  by the rock band, Cage the Elephant,  check out the video here if you haven’t heard or seen it.

Second reason I picked ” Ain’t no rest for the Wicked” you might say is my anthem for my writing endeavors….cuz you see it’s almost 1:00 am in the morning and I’m burning the midnite oil ( past midnight actually) to finish this damn story that I want to meet a deadline on..

I have been writing for a few hours..so I need a rest and little distraction(see my previous blog about distractions in writing) ..so here I am…I have also been checking other bloggers out on the  web as well. For instance I ran across one who wrote a post  about Spanking Monkeys and a Adult Dora the Explorer Movie …a humorous blogger at Lady or Not Here I Come . Sometimes for me as a writer you need a little humor to lighten the mind up when writing on serious subjects. It frees me up to keep going when my words start to snag on a scene in a story. I need a dose of cold water down the back  you might say to let the inspiration bug in.

The last reason I picked Wicked is because well ….because I’m wicked like the Devil….noooooooooooo…I don’t even believe in the Devil, Lucifer,or Satan, Bezelbub, Voldemort or any of those other incarnations of an idea we seem we have to put a face and name to feel more comfortable for why we do things to ourselves and to the world around us.

No the reason I picked it is because Wicked can mean ” to place or show very intense emphasis on a subject or action.”   Like that car was wicked  cool  or wicked fast…or that girls skirt she was wearing oh my..  was wicked tight..did you see her? That test was to wicked hard…I am so gonna fail it…

See? Understand? That’s the kinda writer I wanna be a Wicked one.

I am going back to work now…it’s been a fun break!

Into the Woods – A Poem


Into the Woods

The young man walked into the darkening woods

few dared tread even in daylight,

for there were many a tale of a sly fey or evil

sprite who walked there at night.


Not caring for rogue or dark highwayman to

lay upon him on the open road as he slept,

he sought the sanctuary of the deep forest

instead for his bed.


He bunkered down next to a dead fallen tree

and built a small fire against the cold that crept

as the sun crawled deep and fled into a hole

in the ground as he prepared for sleep.


He stared into the fire and being young let his

fancies take flight, beginning to imagine eyes in

the woods contemplating him, waiting for him

in the burgeoning night.


He wasn’t a child to lose himself,

so he shook off his disquiet and the cold and closed

his weary eyes pretending to be bold and found sleep

even through his fear of the unknown.


Into the night he slept until the crescent moon

shone high overhead casting pale blue shadows

across his face and breast as he slept on his

forest bed.


Now some say if the moon finds you in the forest

other things may as well, like a beacon to a boat

far off shore.


The young man started awake to the feeling

of a finger lightly brushing his cheek,

cold but oddly yet full of heat.


The fire was mere embers casting a feeble light,

but he could see the outline of a figure nearby, one arm

outstretched toward him, sitting in a low crouch

swaying to and fro and cooing as if in love.


 The young man sprang up and backed over and

behind the tree and clutched at the hag bone which

hung around his neck for encounters such as these.


A good thing his talisman he wore for he may have

found himself dead in the morn.


“Come hither, Come closer.” It seemed to whisper in

his very ear, even though the creature was across from him

and not near.


It moved closer and the light from the dying fire

caught its face just so to reveal black pupils set against

black orbs which should have been bone white.


The face sneered at him with a clown like grin showing

a full set of razor sharp teeth within, while all the while green

flecked saliva dripped and slipped down its pointy chin.


It licked its lips with a tongue as red as blood and smelled the

air seeming to mark the man’s scent if  he should run.

“Sit and talk brother, I am alone I just wish a little company

in my forest home.”


“I am no brother of yours darkling, be gone from my sight!”

the young man yelled back shaking his talisman as he held

it tight.


“You are more kin than you know, do you think it mere

happenstance that I appear before you so?”


The creature looked at him from across the dim fire and

stared into him deep. Shadows danced on the creature’s face

as its dead eyes bore into him full of dead life and fathomless heat.


“You are my brother, for your heart is as dark as mine, for it beats

within you and called to me for it keeps the same time.

No moon called me to this place, nothing but your blackheart

pulled me to your presence and this forest space.”


 The young man said nothing but continued to clutch the talisman he wore.

The creature smiled and looked at what he held so desperately to his breast

for it knew the man’s secrets and oh so much more.


“Why should that help you in a time such as this? Should it not turn

on its owner and prove itself dead instead?”


“You will die as they did, oh yes. I see your eyes tell the lie on your lips

as you twist the truth you try to spit.”


“You saw the little farm house, deep in the wood and all alone?”

“A  husband, wife and daughter safe in their home

in the night, as you stared in their window and

crouched like I do now so low.”


“You crept inside when the night was still and killed the man while fast asleep.

Then you had your way with mother and daughter both and

all the while you smiled and laughed as if it all a joke.”


Like a lightning stroke the creature grabbed the young man’s hand and

ripped open his grasp and flung the worthless talisman from the young man’s

hands into the cold dewy grass.


The young man eyes opened wide and

 implored to the creature “Please I don’t want to die.”

“Hmm..that was the same said by the mother and child”

“Remember what you replied?”

Then you should not have taken up residence so deep in these woods.


With that the creature buried its teeth

into the young’s man’s neck and drank deep

of his brother all the while the young man

screamed for release.


Now the tales say if you go deep into the woods you

may run afoul of dark things at night, but the tales also

say be wary of the darkness in your own heart.