Tag Archives: dreams

The Me you See


 

The me you see, is just a pale umbra of whom I’m supposed to be.

I’ve come to  a wall and I can’t make the jump,

I try and I try and just bounce the hell off.

But what I really don’t know is that I’m just a toad in the road

and it’s just a small curb on a street.

It’s a cliff so sheer and high that it’s a trick to belie the eye.

I tell myself one more jump…kerplunk!

My little toad head hurts like hell from all the bashing

against the wall.

If I can just find that perfect crack to start me on my crawl to wind my way up.

But that would require luck…fuck!

Where the hell am I going to get any of that?

So I’m a toad.

Not a frog a princess can kiss

to relieve me of this predicament.

Sorry, no frog underneath this frog-like veneer miss.

But I will be the prince of toads one day.

Fuck the frog I say!

So I look for that crack in the wall,

no matter how small,

to eventually make my way

up and over.

To that other me

that I don’t yet see,

The Prince of Toads,

in all of his bumpy

brown glory.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Vintage Dreams


 

Time,

a funny grain

that gets stuck

like a piece of

grit between

clenched teeth.

And spitting never helps, so purse

your lips

tightly.

Dreams,

A fickle fable

held in high esteem

as you tell the story

of a wonderful what-if

while the stars loftly

laugh at you in the dark ink blot above.

Grip the grass you lay upon

as the earth tilts just ever so.

Love,

Oh love,

Where for art thou?

Romeo was a fool to seek

a party where all the players

knew their part  while all the

while Juliet had cotton stuffed

in her ears like a silly Teddy bear,

seeing  only your pretty little

mouth move without a

sound.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

The Rabbit Hole


 

A flop-eared fuck of a rabbit ran on by,

tripping over me in his haste.

Never caring a wit in his bumping.

As if the air I occupied was insubstantial

and not worthy of one  of such good taste.

I hadn’t noticed the rabbit hole

 But he just dove

on in.

Fuck that rabbit. I didn’t know

who he was.

Or why he wore a tweed vest

yet his little bunny ass was left to stick

out below.

I just saw a dark hole in the earth.

with nothing but a deeper darkness

within.

Fear clutched my throat

Words choked as I tried to yell

“What the hell?”,  at him.

Gurgling.

Leaving me burgling for time

trying to figure out my

life.

All the whys and wherefore’s

and whozits.

While the background receded,

the foreground contracted.

Leaving me in the tight middleground

of discontent, what-if, and

disillusionment.

I hugged myself tight, but it wasn’t cold,

that was just my soul

falling to pieces

as I tried to hold my self together

while I flaked away.

Go Rabbit, go!

You have the right of it.

You know what time it is; always.

You know.

So  go down that Rabbit hole

because you’re a fucking rabbit

and you know what to expect.

I wish I could go

but

I just fucking won’t fit.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still only


Still only~

Time will eat  at you while you’re still alive  picking your bones clean like a vulture, swallowing you in big gulps but with no droppings to follow later.

Every molecule of you will be forgotten in history…every thought…every nuance to what was you …gone…simply gone.  One day.

Just the ask the dinosaur’s bones that litter the world. What were their names? What great sonnets did they compose? What grand edifices did they erect in honor of their forgotten gods? We are but dinosaurs, waiting for our grand event to expire us.

I say that’s all fine and good, but could we at least grow to be as smart and civil as the dinosaurs that came before us?

Let’s finally leave our caves  once and for all. We discovered fire and the wheel a long time ago but really have made no progress since.

Perhaps a fingernail’s thickness only I imagine. A lot for us I am sure in the short time on this planet…but still only a fingernail.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

Caveman

Nothing…yet Something


 

 

Milkyway

 

Nothing,

that’s what I feel like sometimes;

Nothing.

Nothing, no where, no how

as

I see a distant sun of vibrant gold

cradled in a bowl of purple and pink

on a horizon I imagine I will never reach,

It reminds me that I’m Nothing

and yet Something to even to be allowed

to see.

A nighttime sky, filled to bursting

with a voluminous marble of a moon

within a black bag of stars I can’t begin to sift through.

Yet I do, and that Something feels cool

on fingertips never finding purchase.

I know Life is a tangled sphere of yarn

wrapped around an onion

spinning and dancing in

an ordered rhythm with other crying onions

as they bump butts.

Nothing and Something,

A single stolen kiss in the dark with a girl,

yet readily given by her, for I am no thief;

soft yet firm, gentle yet wanting.

Nothing exists, not even

me in that moment,

and yet Something.

Clues and misdirection, blind alleys

and closed thoroughfares,

leashed to Nowhere.

Yet Somewhere will be the end when

the journey’s through

Humbled and awed

but at other times

petulant and angry.

I stomp my foot inside my soul.

I am tired of feeling like Nothing

Something sounds good.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

Perhaps the Dream is dreaming me


I stroll this earth in all my Fragile trodding  from point A to Point B.  Clip Clopping in and out of the lives  of others.  My footfalls echo off their souls and their smiles which always seem to gradually fade.

But never mind me,  just let it rain all around this person I call I, which was  placed in this time, upon this big space by unseen hands, holy or not. Forgotten or not. I am here and that’s a good thing.

“Truth hits everybody, ” I heard her say,  as she walked on by,  and I could see the Hole in my Life in her words as she pushed her cart on down the street and rounded the corner leaving me to think on things too much. I have much yet do. Much more compels.

So Lonely you think I be?   Not hardly,  for I see others just as desperate as me trying to flee this dream. Stay oh rats!  Stay. This is a grand ship! Let’s share a piece of cheese!

I pass a bakery and smell the sweet aroma of cinnamon and raspberry and it makes me Hungry for you and brings me to Once upon a daydream thinking of that when of  wanting you to Be my girl, Sally , or whatever your name was back then.

Seven days was all it took to create this place so they say. Perhaps whoever did it should have taken just a little more time and perhaps, just perhaps, there might have been just a little less pain involved for us all. Ah I digress, I always do.

When the world is running down like the so called pundits and arm chair philosophers like to speculate about, I recall all the lost Sallys, and the sweet smells, and all the rain that I have tread in and I can only smile. Because those are my memories, my experiences and they may not be here tomorrow. No matter how bad they were, or good…they are mine and mine alone and I treasure that.

That’s the shape of my heart on the matter. So I continue to dream this dream.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

memories

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hiddin Within


Shadows-and-Fog

 

Hidden Within~

He watches her. She watches him.

The dog , he watches nothing.

Their eyes can’t hide what lies beneath.

A tilt of the head, a downcast look tells

me all I need to know about their inner

Lives.

They hate. They love.  They lust. They  laugh at

Life.

Is there sadness behind that smile they

Give.

Some hide from each other.

Some hide from themselves.

Some hide simply because they can.

I wish I could see all the dreams buried

deep within their heads.

Dreams which they’ve never fed;

maybe a doctor, a lawyer, or a whore,

maybe a pretentious pious little bore.

Their thoughts are hidden;

a landscape of dark shadows and fog banks hung

Low.

I watch it all unfold.

They can’t keep it hidden long,

for like a cauldron bubbles, spews, and spits so

does their mind emit a gurgling of regret, a wisp of

weakness, or a hiss of  hysteria in its’ attempt to lament.

I watch and I wait for it all to unfold,

for the hidden to be found and the found to be told.

I’m a spectator to the grand affair which is hidden within.

So know that when I look at you or you at me,

I will see you, see you indeed.

By   Philip Wardlow

Just a Crazy Dream …


I checked into Motel Sadness and sat down my bags of discontent.
The mini bar was stocked well, so I grabbed the gin and mixed the tonic of my life, crushed in my Lemon Eyes, raised my glass, gave a toast, telling them all I was Sorry for ever crossing their path.
I downed that motherfucker in one gulp and prepared another,
and another, and another… for the Heart heart head of thoughts that were sure to come.
The day disappeared as night consumed, wrapping me up like a A Bolt from the Blue. I laid there. Just laid there until she came. I heard her jimmy the lock of my life and Desire walked on through. She was high, and not very lady like as she straddled me,
high heels digging, she whispered with the reddest lips wrapped in  a wicked grin,
I really want you to hate me, Cuz I’ll never love you baby”.  Then she got up and walked out to join a passing Parade.
So I got up….left my room and I ran and ran, like a child wild in a playground
down a street with no shadows; even though the street lamps cast
a deep sodium glow.
It seems I can’t even entice a dark silhouette to accompany me. Make a Shadow  I intoned Make a Shadow  so I dove,  into a dumpster deep, and mingled with the garbage heaped, and fell fell fast asleep.
The Morning after came and the bears were rummaging, waking me from a better world
not so obscene.
I couldn’t face the ground with  its vicious disregard to support so I climbed and climbed up the fire escape to the tippity top of the tar covered roof, sticky from the bright midday sun and jumped.
The dust flew from wings in full extension as a Feather floated to the alley below but I was light and I went up;  on currents caught, finally realizing I was free.
Go….
Go
Go
Said my soul,  Go
be that beautiful Monster they all believe you to be.

by Philip  Wardlow 2016

feathers
by Raven555Lady

Flying…


 

raven

Flying~

 

 

Flying….I…ME…Searching with my lantern,

alight on currents of cold dusky air

The darkness below doesn’t feel the light

that leaks out and dribbles out like

bits of cold rain.

Fall, Fall, Fall

little light of mine….fall

a trickle of a smile

a patter of patience

a sprinkle of spoken

words full of regret.

Flying…lost…ME

in coalescing clouds

fusing, binding,

here I am, mingling

with the molecules as

I shift through the

atmosphere

Ever Apart…ever Onward.

Flying…as the light drips

down to the darkness

below…searching.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016