Tag Archives: friend

Beautiful Drop Dead Dizziness

I won’t complain at the tiredness
in my eyes and befuddled brain,
because of the late night tryst
you and I partook of
when the clothes
came off.
as you electrify
all my senses
in one intense
sequence of
events starting with
a drawn out kiss
full of delicious
heart felt
endearing sweet
and abandon
that even after
being gone from you
a day, or an hour or two I find
I miss.
Wholehearedly and objectively.
Profusely, never obtusely
I see that I am good
for you and you are
good for me
You are just
the right kind
of drop dead

By Philip Wardlow 2018

Not much Time left for you

Stop, please cease and desist.
Don’t fatigue me with humor
from an encrypted list

That only you have the key to
and do not wish to share
as you give me yet another vacant stare.

Egotism seems to be your religion,
a character flaw so ingrained into you
that it’s exclusive to everything you do.

Vindictiveness is your fallback,
a solitary friend who knows you well
as you sit there alone in your man-made cell.

Even if you were to apologize
for your misbegotten callous deeds,
your sickly smile causes it to be ill received.

Still you smile that sardonic smile,
thinking you are the king’s clown
to entertain the masses as you fall down.

Tell me a riddle of what I did see
in you that made me think in that moment
I would find a soul deserving my lament.

Oh woe is me to ever possibly call you a friend
Woe is me to not see the signs
so easily to be seen by the blindest of the blind.

Love could save you and make you whole,
change the boy to a man and the fear to admission
that life offers a cure to your self-inflicted condition.

Little do you know that time is not kind.
It seeks no friends, it cares not for your life.
It does not sit and wait for you to make up your mind.

By Philip Wardlow

My Elemental


She is Fire,
warm, smoldering,
hot to the touch,
all consuming
and hungry.
A brilliant bright undulating red,
mesmerizing to
behold as her flames
Ever higher and higher

She is Earth
solid and nurturing
dark and mysterious
hidden and yet known
demanding and wanting
yet giving in full measure.
Rooted in wisdom, she grows in me
Holds me in the gravity of her,
planted deep.

She is Water,
Life sustaining,
A thirst quenched, a drought abated
A light cool sprinkle on a hot day
A swim in with clothes cast off
A river flowing, cutting through me,
meandering, delving into my secret
ways and passages of me
that only she could truly see

She is Air,
Felt as a playful breeze
kissing a cheek
As a moan through the trees
desperately searching for me
She often taps against my windowpane wanting to come in.
So I set aside the lock
pull up the pane of glass
and breathe her in
Then exhale
only to slowly breathe her in
all over again.

She is
my Fire,
my Earth
my Water
my Air.

She is.

If you Fall


The future
is an undulating
bright blue fluid,
opaque in
carrying us along
in seeming chaotic
Ever pulling
Ever churning
a sense of purpose resides in its
a earning
a conviction
creating a burning
In the dark
Of our lost souls,
but if you
should cascade and
Well, then I
I’ll soon
follow after.



by Philip Wardlow 2018

Every experience


Good or bad
Drawn out
or just a flash
A Tragedy
or favorite
to hold close
in your heart
I suppose.
A smile, a compliment,
a slight, a slap
a bite.
A hug or a deep
in a moment when the timing
can be no more perfect
than it could possibly ever be.
Every experience,
Every jarring intrusion
Every refreshing inclusion
Every meandering way
that perhaps led you
to me and then pushed you far away.
It all matters
and then it doesn’t
but it matters.

By Philip Wardlow 2017

Ever hopeful


Fists balled in anger,  soul sad and fed-up,
yet ever hopeful that his carefully balanced cup
stays half full for the days he knows to surely come
will  be worse than this one.

So he drinks a toast to life still here, full and bright.
Dances with a half drunk girl
he’ll never know,
as he smiles at himself for the kiss he stole.

Then goes home to his empty home;
unless you count his cat Jack
with the biggest eyes you’ve ever
seen for him.
Oh what a wayward lover he is.
Yet, all it ever does, is make him wish
that a girl would look at him that same way.

He is ever hopeful
for he’s built that way,
he’s always been
since he was a small, wee

Ever hopeful,
even as it all crumbles away.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

My appetite



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


Which always



By Philip Wardlow 2016


Message in a Bottle Received









After a hundred bottles or more

that had been cast out to sea,

an answer finally washed upon my shore

one morn much to my chagrin.

For you see, it simply read,

“Stop littering the seas with your sad and woeful pitiful pleas,

and just leave us be you little fucker! Leave us be!”


by Philip Wardlow 2016



Bubble People


They bump along in their bubbles…

with all their different colors

at times comingling…a bright red meeting,

a dull blue or electric  yellow sliding along a prim’s

purple slick skinned surface

grazing against, just ever so.

Electric,  crazy, frenzied, varied, morphic, erotic

Dare I say fun? Yet…the bubbles eventually move on

Some in sadness…some not giving a shit….beep bopping

away in a rush.

Or they simply just



By Philip Wardlow 2016