Tag Archives: friends

UP or Down


Up or Down
you are still around
Know that. With a heart beat
that’s fucking fierce.
That beauty, that soul, that spirit within
still tolls and tolls and tolls
Oh they toll
Through the ever darkness
a smile, a grimace, a groan
You struggled and you struggle still
you so struggle still.
In bed you laid, fetal
Epitaph gouged out with bloodied fingernails
on wooded headboard
saying “She lived, but where has she gone
and will she ever return and in what state?”
Little does she know
She has gone no where
she never has.
She’s been in it, the visceral reality
sitting heavy upon her chest
choked out to almost
the last breath.
Yet, she struggled out the words FUCK YOU and
GO TO HELL!

So when gravity abates, should
she praise the fickle forces
in their absence?
Fuck them even more, so she says
Fuck them even more.
My heart beats
with no thanks
My heart still beats.

 

by Philip Wardlow

for my friend Candice Louisa Daquin love ya sis  🙂
catch her great work at her website at:
https://thefeatheredsleepcom.wordpress.com/

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

The Gravity of Her


She is a force
an attraction
a passion,
pulling
a satellite revolving around the world of me,
a kiss filled with stars
that have never lost their
spark.
She is a meteor falling
Captured, I won’t let
go of.
She burns bright in my sky
My heaven filled
Gravity clutching,
holding down
the me of me
where I need to be
with her
Beautifully grounded.
as I kiss her in
in a nighttime rain
upon a lonely street
where the clouds fall
droplets compelled
Did they ever have a choice?
Did I?
Not hardly,
when it came
to the gravity of her.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

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
recklessness
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
dizzy.

By Philip Wardlow 2018

The Softness


 

You are the soft points
between the hard
The smooth curves that
trace my heart
You are a delicate
touch
earning for more
with only a fingertip
of intention
caressing me
with a whisper
of a pained soul
reflected in my
own,
ever sinking
deep
deep
deep
Inescapably deep
into the softness
of all
that is you.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Connection


I’m not looking for heavy
for my heart already weighs a ton
I’m unloading it day by day
with it weighing just a little less
with each run of the moon and sun.
But it’s a gonna be long while
til the weights all gone.

I just want your words,
I just want your time,
I just want all the things
you can’t give to just anyone.

I offer a shoulder,
I offer a smile and a laugh.
I offer a walk hand in hand
or a slow dance.
I’ll take you to bed
and bring you to that headspace
you crave.
Or we can just curl up
on the couch and snuggle
in our little cave.
Talking away the day.

Connect
extend that line to me
and I’ll connect
back.

Simple as that.

Leavetaking


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I touched on you
for the merest moment
as each caress was counted
by my hand upon your
skin.
While each multitude of last kisses were my final goodbye that took it’s slow
approach in the
forever meandering days we spent
in ignorant luxury with
one another.
Fools,
yet fortunate ones
to find such a rich
treasure
Deep in the eyes of another
Us knowing the
full wealth
we clutched
And still finding
the strength
to set it aside
knowing it could
possibly lead to
a profound
sadness
from which there would be
no escape from.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

In knowing


 

There is a danger in knowing you
too well Miss Light.
Indeed,
like a stormchaser
racing after a tornado
down a back road
with no outlet.
Then the twister suddenly turns,
No escape,
and only beautiful obliteration
Follows
No pieces left of me
to find.
Just a lonely road
as the funnel slowly
rotates up and away
to fade into the
heavens
as if it never was.

Philip Wardlow 2017.

 

Every experience


 

Good or bad
Drawn out
or just a flash
A Tragedy
or favorite
melody
to hold close
in your heart
I suppose.
A smile, a compliment,
a slight, a slap
a bite.
A hug or a deep
kiss
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