Tag Archives: fate

My Stardust Companion


 

There is no doubt, not an ounce
that some of my atoms were compressed
tight to the millionth of magnitudes
against some of yours
Kissing, real French like
if you know what I mean,
in that coalescing, condensed
cosmic cloud
out in the lonely dark
in an endless time.
Then Bam!
We were torn apart
just about when
I was almost
to second base
You were gone,
Far flung.
We both did our own thing then
for eons, on top of eons
Flying in a comet or two,
playing in the solar winds
making new friends
and losing a few to
the gravity of
a Universe slowly,
ever slowly coming
into view.
But, I still remembered you
in all my travels…
that energy, that vibrating
frequency, that was
a signature all your own
I felt it out there
amongst all the seeming chaos,
I felt you.
And now you have come
to sidle up tight
against me once again.
So let’s start over with that kiss
and let the planet we now
find ourselves on,
spin and spin and spin.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

All I know


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Are you my soulmate?
Are you kin to my spirit within?

At the inception of the universe,
did my atoms mingle with yours?
Did your energies play with my own?

Did destiny play a part in all our fateful
days as we twisted amongst
the stars through billions, and millions of years, to dwindle down to Earth to finally share a kiss which held a resonance and a mysterious affinity
that can not be explained away.

Or I have met you once before in the purgatory of souls lost wondering in the void, finding quiet comfort and caress in the serendipitous chance in a billion, trillion, quintillion of meanderings of spirits. I found you, YOU, amongst the multitude, then lost you fully in memory and in touch as you slowly faded away, what chance then to find you yet again in a dance, in a smile, in a laugh, in a kiss long sought and well remembered.

What chance indeed.

And I remember you, no matter
the mystery of us.
I remember.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

 

The Moon and the Stars told Me


I sat on my front porch
and stared out at the dark.
The moon was full
as was the sky full
of stars
and fireflys.
I was seven maybe six
I was happy in that
moment,
content,
Looking up at the sky
Lost in the moon
I thought of her
a girl I never knew
she would be pretty
she would love me
deeply as I loved her
And we would
be together
for all our days
I thought of her
somewhere else
looking at the moon
thinking the same
of me
“I will meet her one
day,” I whispered
to the night.
Then I went quietly
back inside.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Mystery Girl


She flits
amongst the tangled
night in dreams
that I have not known
Yet the desire is
there to partake
of the darkness
that abounds and
surrounds from within her
Mingle me in your madness
Tangle me in your limbs
crawling across your skin
With my warm lips
against cold body
gradually gaining heat
the more you encompass
me.
Your disguise is my own
you think you wear
unbeknownst.
I know.
Mystery girl,
still a sad
forlon whistling tune
hanging in the wind,
a shadow dimly cast by
a light trapped in a closet
from a future not promised
nor sure
she sits tap, tap, tapping
her index finger
on a desk that hardly
ever saw a word written
upon it.
I listen for
her echo
Deep, hallow,
beautiful
wanting.
I listen for it
in the night
as she flits and flutters
in the dark.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Amongst the Stars


 

 

A deep brackish blue light filtered in through the curtains next to my bed crawling across my closed eyes. I let my head remain, resting on my pillow. Perhaps I could fool the world in to believing I was still yet asleep. Nudges came in thunderous pains, lightening strikes to the brain. I knew I was awake, that was enough.

In all night diner, I found my hands full of a ceramic cup filled with coffee topped with cream in the design of a mountaintop I had yet to climb. Desires awoke in me, spoke to me; whispered really. They never yelled. Never. Except to run. I hated them all. Weaklings all of them.

I slapped myself hard then. Sitting there in the crowded diner, coffee in hand with my mountain in a cup.

I yelled out loud, “I am not a ghost!”

Then I left a dollar tip and got up and left to stares and murmuring all around. I was their talk of the day.

I broke into a run down the sidewalk. If anything I was going to own the running. Fuck the illusions, fuck the dream. Fuck the quicksand of doubt. Ever forward…running.

Just find the rhythm of me. Left, right, left, right…pick them up…put them back down. Running towards it, not away…no matter the pitfalls.

“Viva la Vida” played as I ran by a outdoor bar, then I heard an old woman humming “Cest Le Vie” as she fed the pigeons in the park.

Well fuck, the Universe seemed to be noticing me. For good or bad? I guess we’ll see

As my feet suddenly left the ground to go running amongst the stars.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Sally forth I say!


 

 

It’s a glorious morn for battle on the field of gold.

So be bold!

Attack the day lest you fall prey

to marauders at your gate.

Go forth and grind them to grizzle

pick your to teeth with their bones

while finding rapture in hearing their moans

Push! Push! Push !

through the tall grass.

Head low!  Be wary but

Go! Go! Go!

For its been said, that fortunes

go to the ones who are bold.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Why I,  am the boldest of the bold can’t you

see!

So where be my fortunes, where be my wench

to console my pains, and give me succor

this day?

Where indeed.

Think not too hard on your gains not gotten

lest you fall ill to them before you

meet them my friend.

Be not so arrogant! Be not so aggrieved!

For any  man’s head can leave a

neck with but a peck of a well honed axe

unseen.

No man’s future is certain nor ordained

by the vicious gods who play

their crap game

in the dark corners of your fated life.

Wise words, so heed them

or only peril shall follow

all your days.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like a Crazy Ass Bullet


 

I was shot into this world like a crazy

ass bullet

Pinging and zinging off the solid metal

bulwarks

of life

Piercing and punching through

the flesh of the ones in solitude

who never knew me as I sped on,

cutting them in two, blood spilling,

entrails trailing on gleaming metal

warped by sinew and bone

for even a bullet can’t go unscathed

as it passes through you, you, and you.

Gravity is taking me, braking me

pulling me down….

The curve of the Earth is finally coming to meet

me on this hallowed muddy blue ball of a  ground

where I’ll be littered in with all the rest

that never found the target of their

intent.

Piles and piles of metal collect

in a mountain too high to climb. 

Shit, I wasn’t hoping for the bullseye

Just a piece, the very edge…

to clip it,

to show em all I could

fly fairly straight

even if fired from a gun

called Fate

by an unsteady hand.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

Roll the Dice


Dice

 

Roll the Dice ~

 

Dice,

Falling,

Gravity pulls

I threw them in the air,

now they must land somewhere.

On the table, they do a dance,

Rolling, tumbling, spinning,

so many combinations

could come.

No skill required at the outcome.

But my intent is everything.

For I picked up those dice

from that table

while all the rest just stared,

drink in hand,

in a perpetual daze.

Waiting.

Time slows, stretching out like taffy

pips tease then disappear

to taste a different future

as corners turn and angles

fly in a  latticework of physics,

a mysterious inertial

balancing act.

In favor or against

In favor or against.

Fate, a whim or not?

Fate is a fickle bitch.

But I will get into

bed and roll with her in the sheets

anyway.

 

 

by Philip  Wardlow 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

A bitch called life, my best friend (or Striving) – a poem


 

fist-fight

A Bitch called life, my best friend ~ 

 

Let the dust die down and coughing fit stop

Let the world know I gave a damn or let them know nothing

at all.

 

Let them know that I loved and I lost,

and then chose to love again.

 

Winning isn’t an option anymore it’s either

do or don’t live to talk about it tomorrow.

 

Laced up

Dead eyes on,

Hands steady with

a wicked grin.

Ring the fucking bell.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

My Third Eye – A Poem


Patipat Asavasena

 

 

My Third Eye –

 

It’s been plucked.

Right out of my head.

There it is, pinched between

that raven’s beak.

It has been reclaimed it seems

since I never chose to use it.

An eye always closed.

grows dark and distant.

Best to give it to someone else.

Yet, I feel the pain of its

loss already

My mind, my spirit, my heart

has already dimmed.

I want it back.

I have learned my lesson.

I promise.

I will use it,  give it back…

give it back,

please give it back.

I will use it

just give it back.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

 

darksiders_raven_by_eldeivi