Even the Devil got a Valentines Card what’s your problem?
Tag Archives: inspiration
You think you have me all figured out
A man tells me he knows me,
has me all figured out.
He has got me all encapsulated
in a little box
Man, I don’t even know me,
so how do you?
So please just shut up
just shut the fuck up
Telling me I shouldn’t see color
Shit man, I can only be blind to color
once the world allows me to be blind to it.
I am black, I am a brown, I am white,
whatever shade you would like,
whatever hue, whatever tone,
please ascribe.
Define me, ridicule and deride me,
you will never know the true me
beneath my skin let alone
what’s in these old bones I call my home
because you haven’t held them
and walked in ’em
feeling the full weight
of ’em.
You haven’t begun
to figure me out
But you will one day
as will I.
by Philip Wardlow
The Half-Century Man
Soon I shall be the Half-Centennial,
a hundred years sliced neatly
down the middle I will be, with
a plethora of histories
passings buried deep in the
very blood that flows
through me.
As gray touches lightly upon
the mostly black hair upon my head
I take solace that it is
thicker by far than
more than half the men in the world
at half my age.
And my grin still
causes a girl
or two to smile
my way in wonder
at the mystery
I may hold for her.
Though my skin may yet
be smooth
the wrinkles of time
have burrowed into
me, scarring a tired
soul once
remembered young,
once vibrant
once foolishly bold
once innocent
once true
and I weep
at that lost
for it was that not
long ago.
I fear more than I did
of death, now weary of friends
and of dreams only to become abandoned,
to relationships nurtured
only to be tainted.
Yet, I know
with each fear, each lost,
comes wisdom, perseverance,
resolve, and epiphanies to be
unbound and courage to be renewed.
for old dogs
who still wish to learn
a new trick or two.
So as my candles are lit,
my cake is set before me,
and the song is sung,
I will close my eyes
and make a grand
wish for the ages
yet to come
my way.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
.
Connections
I connected with you but you never knew,
all hundred of you.
Did you ever feel a light tickle on your neck or a
tap on the shoulder?
That was me just saying hello.
Much the distant spectator
string in hand, held tight to the kite of you
as you danced in the wind.
I either smiled, laughed, or cried
just a bit, soaking up
the moment that you offered
out.
Until I simply decided to let go
to watch you escape into
the sky.
By Philip Wardlow 2019
The Death of Melody
I have heard that Melody
in music is dying,
stripped down
to either Harmony,
Rhythm, or Tone.
Using only 3 Notes,2,1, or None
to get the job done
and feed the
hungry masses.
People still love the
new music though.
I have at times.
It’s got a good beat
and you can dance to it
and might have
something clever
to deliver
that clicks into
you gently.
But most of it’s shit
cuz there’s
no flow
up and down the scale
flirting
with the emotional
peaks and valleys
of the soul
pulling something
out of you
involuntarily
beyond your control.
Now, most of it feels
recycled, overused
or too simple
like your ABCs
I don’t wish for Melody
to die
I wish for it to thrive
and come alive
So maybe, just maybe
it’ll jumpstart
my heart and reawaken
the Melody in me.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
What Defines Me
What do you see in me when
you see me?
Hair, raven black in
soft waves curling,
wisdom creeping, as
white snow streaks upon
the edges of a life
leaving.
Eyes of rich dark mahogany
seeking clarity to life
truly as it is and not
how it’s supposed to be
but often
failing.
Mouth, always smiling in invitation
yet reticent in divulging
all the secrets
accumulated lest
judgements pronounce
me false in your
biased ears.
My own Ears,
are sharper than most,
seeking every intonation
behind a word and it’s
hidden meaning,
but would rather hear
it freely given.
My Hands, strong hands,
loving and gentle hands
tools to create a home
and to hold you tight
yet balled and clenched
when it all becomes
to much sometimes.
What’s between my
legs you ask?
You thought I wouldn’t say
Ha! A passion some cannot
measure or take but would
love to try and
conquer
My feet have carried me
far, whether in a slow walk
or a run my Travels are far
from done.
And ah, my heart, my heart
it beats,
its full always to
overflowing
yet fearful
of spilling a drop
lest it gets wasted.
But yet I pour
my heart into
an endless
cup
Never quite filling
it up.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
My Muse beckons
My Muse,
she sits upon
yon shore, across dark waters flowing,
serene and smiling with invitation,
red hair blowing
in the same direction
as the wide deep river
does go.
I find I lack the courage
to traverse such a feat, for fears
take hold of the mortal
man in me.
This side is good,
she whispers from across the waves,
full of life, stars, and wonderment.
Won’t you come over
for I know you will enjoy it too,
It’s where your soul will thrive
and come alive
as I sit by your side on the
riverbank of life,
exalting in all that
there is.
I look away,
avoiding her gaze
The river is strong and a
torrent of a task to cross
and nature has created a coward of me.
Oh, but her sweet whispers reach
my ears, speaking of mysteries,
of love, of magic and mischief.
The core of my being
smiles inside
at the bright,
light of potential
in those whisperings
of all that could
be.
So I turn to her
my red, red Muse
and smile as I dive in.
Cold water clutching,
I surface
stroke after stroke,
kicking and fighting
I beat the water with
a fury, setting
up a rhythm it cannot
ignore.
All the while I hear,
pulling
her words.
That wonderful self
never ceasing
until I reach the
far shore
Tired,
but alive,
fears cast
aside
as I fall
into my Muses
loving
embrace.
by Philip Wardlow 2019
The Day
The sun is shining
yet,
I woke up today to clouds and rain
I woke to a dismal day
but now the sun is shining
and I can’t find a thing that causes me to complain
because I woke up today
and it was drip dripping so I went back in
and closed the door
tight.
But later when I looked back out
the sun was shining
and I couldn’t shove
the smile from my face.
by Philip Wardlow 2018
Contentment
Contentment, they say,
is synonymous with happiness,
satisfaction, fulfillment
and more;
more words of
peaceful denouement leading to seeming
roads of blissful ends.
Perhaps and perhaps not.
At the most I would pluck
“satisfaction” from that pile
of useless defining words that they
try to ascribe
to life
of whats and what nots.
Satisfaction at knowing
you tried your best,
and still failed at it all
in the end,
satisfaction that you don’t
give a damn to fight that
fight anymore
no matter how much they implore
that you should.
That you smile in satisfaction
at the day that greets you,
whether the weather
is bleak and cold
or
sunny and warm.
You appreciate the day
for just being the day
Here, now and forever
more.
by Philip Wardlow 2018
Tacos and Tequilas
Sometimes its tacos and salt rimmed tequilas,
movies and lonely couches,
cold beds and cats, tongue twister
and tying up,
a plethora of pleasures in the grab bag
of life
followed by a deluge
of desiccated numb bodies
dumped on your front lawn.
Sometimes its a magical arc of light
swinging in the breeze
by a delicate hand on a dark path
It’s sweet sugar on your lips
tongue licking,
as you slowly, reluctantly
back away from the most
wonderful kiss.
It’s a flurry of heavy punches
to the gut
tickling, because you have been there
before, and you can take it.
Can you not?
So you emit a raucous laugh
at the absurdity
that the day has wrought.
Jaded in your green dreams
you wake to breathe
in new air
to expel the stale.
Grab a Bagel and go out the
door
as you think of the
sweet sugar
that still lingers
on your lips
from the night
before.
By Philip Wardlow 2018
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 