Ah melancholy you, melancholy me. Twins of pains throughout our separate travels in lands and time blown away by great distances and choices right or wrongly made. You clutch dearly to your past like a child does a doll all tattered and torn since received from her inception from the womb that bore here into this world. Myself in that journey I took. and of which I am still on, I fumble in my pockets, fiddling with the loose change of memories I have always kept close and collected throughout time. Both predilections in the way we cope in our own entanglements are either a solace, a penance, a nuisance, or constant curse. Why not us both seek a new habit? You throw down your doll I shall let my change fall through my fingers as I grab your hands tight in mine and continue our travels together. by Philip Wardlow March 29th, 2022
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
a funny grain
that gets stuck
like a piece of
And spitting never helps, so purse
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.
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
By Philip Wardlow 2017
The world needs to be taken and spanked
No admonishments, no time outs, no taking away
of their favorite pastimes, friends or toys.
Just simply bend them over, pull down their pants,
Kick your legs, wail and cry if you must world,
but its long over due.
Like “Oh Fudge” there are certain words or phrases that cannot
be undone or taken back,
nor deeds that need to be reasoned or examined.
Vicious little children at times,
knowing sticks and stones do break
bones as their words
words sink in and bite them.
I want to spank the world until their breath
comes in shudders and they are barely
able to mutter, a single syllable of hate.
Feel the shame burn below,
Feel the lesson course in your soul
that begs to be enlightened.
Sit gingerly and remember the pain
and know it may come again
if you continue your childish
Grow up oh little world,
Philip Wardlow 2016