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
To and fro we go in life and all its pains collected along the way. In the beginning, a Tango, feet sliding down the floor, full of exuberant steps of youth with a crazy devil may care. Never tiring, head up, steps sure even if we fuck up with every other step made. We are in motion, forward or back ,we are in motion and that is everything to the youthful whether in body or the heart it is everything. By Philip Wardlow March 21, 2022
If I were to suddenly evanesce, to flee, to disappear, to run fast and headlong into the bright nothingness of the night, what ruin would find my absence? Would their be sick wailing siren calls of the once was reaching my soul's ears through the nothingness of me? I hope not. Not Wailing over me.... a tear or two will do, followed quickly with a laugh. But I do not wish to know the old world anymore after I am gone. Why dry up and go, if to only to still receive drops of the once-was in a teacup, to simply drink bitterly of. Remember me or don't, for I will not care as I lie afloat amongst the stars, dreaming of new things, new worlds, new excursions to catapult a frayed mind to healing, to repair a ripped soul torn asunder. Cry and smile in the same instant is all I ask of you if you do remember, for I liked to be missed in both respects. So I guess I do care a little at that. I believe in everything and nothing in this Universe and I would miss both aspects were I to finally fall into the abyss of what-not and possibly nothings. I enjoy the Everything of people healing of the cuts they give themselves and get, and its wondrously satisfying to partake in living in that magical epiphany of them I do not enjoy the Nothing, in the sense that they will continually scratch the scabs to bleeding every so often and there is no mop big enough, nor pail of water full enough to ever fully clean it all up. I am tired of slipping in their blood. The Everything of them is wonderful buy sometimes the Nothing of them becomes all too much. By Philip Wardlow Dec, 2021
Name a monster some say and it's yours for life. Many may never know it's true name or nature yet they usually tend to make one up and ascribe to it all the foul attributes of hell. Why, they will be so proud of the monster they have invented as to shout its direness from the highest rooftops as they give it a blanket so it doesn't catch cold under their bed. All the while the real monsters slink and slyly wink as you share a drink with them over dinner along with friendly banter of the utmost esteem. by Philip Wardlow October 7th, 2021
Sketch me, sketch me, and I bet yea that you will not see me the way I wish to be seen.
Flawed and imperfect scribbles put down on paper, chaotic with no intention or care of staying within the lines at times. Sadistic selfish hard edges fading to soft featherings of delicious needs and wants at the corners of my contained fine lined darkened soul.
The eyes, the eyes, there is a beguiling light behind those shaded eyes, a light, a light, so fucking bright as to mesmerize, if you were to look too long, you would see everything, but most seldom ever do take the time.
Ah, but what is a sketch but a sketch?
A glimpse, a side eyed introspection. Am I not correct?
So there is no disrespect at not knowing the me of me when all the hours of my days and yours can’t be devoted to explore the why and where of us in all it’s full glory.
Perhaps though, that’s what keeps you and I coming back to each other over dinners, drinks and all some such.
To find the true picture in both of us.
by Philip Wardlow June 2021
Definition of cog. 1 : a tooth on the rim of a wheel or gear. 2 : a subordinate but integral person or part.
Round and round the tooth of me goes.
My path well worn in the rotating
pre-ordained woes of a day.
If I squeak, then oil me
so I shut up, for no one appreciates a noisy cog.
Push the wheel harder, so my momentum carries me away from thoughts that cause me to stray to the screaming in my head that always implores me to run the fuck away from this boring ass, numbing, plodding of a distant and dismal day.
I am integral though, I am integral
So thinks the cog in this spinning wheel forever at play.
By Philip Wardlow Dec, 2021
Kah Thump…….Kah Thump………………………………………….. ……………….KahThump…………….Thump………………Ka Thump…………………..Kah Thump……………….Kaaaaaaaah Thuuuuuuuuuuuump
98.2 Fahrenheat Degrees, 98.1, 98.0 and so on and on, down, down, down, until I am a cold rigid plank, as rigid as a piece of flesh could be anyway.
Call me Rigor, Mr. Mortis if you’re nasty.
As I say this, I realize the parts of me that will live, will go on in pictures, videos, my writings, and half memories in other people’s distracted minds yet still alive.
That’s kinda cool.
Cry at my funeral or laugh…or do both. I would prefer both. Please also drink and dance afterwards. That drunk girl over there though, twerking over my casket has got to go.
Talk about the dumb shit I did, talk about a kind word or two I threw at you, or when I asked you for nudes. By the way, I’m still waiting on one of your butt. When you finally take it, send it UP. Or is that DOWN?
I’m sure it’s UP, I haven’t been that bad in my life;
I have never kicked a puppy, only petted. But I have hit many a pussy in my lifetime if you know what I mean, and they never complained, and I petted them before and after as they purred graciously.
I was kind, immature, caring, needy, a charmer, careless of others feelings, repentant, codependent, then dependent on only me, then I met Red, a magical creature needing a safe harbor and I gave it.
I loved all the magic which poured forth from her, for I saw it had been bottled up for so long and it needed a nurturing voice to keep it flow, flow, flowing. I am content that I helped her find herself and to show her she was always good enough from the very beginning of her life.
I’ve always wanted to be seen as a good person, but it took me awhile to realize you have to BE a good person to truly be seen as a good person; to yourself most especially. After you do, everything else that follows is just gravy.
Mmmm gravy…I wonder if they have gravy UP there?
by Philip Wardlow May 7th, 2021
I think perhaps I delight in you,
simply because there is a bite in you
a something quite not right with you
In the many fluid ways of you.
You draw me in with all kinds of sin,
but this poor delicate body can only
take so much abuse,
the fear is the itch that I scratch,
as it beckons
I answer, I bleed and bruise
my soul and mind continually
playing the fool of a tool
where your ways rule
of the day when we play
in decadent forays
of searing sensual
I meander down a shadowed road
upheaved, trees overturned and strewn about in my way, as a soft bird calls in the distance, beckoning me away.
It’s always the destructive, mingled with the mundane with you.
Drawn to mischief as the moth’s ass
is to a searing flame.
Who’s to blame in this story of us then?
Which of us needs to be grabbed and shaken, to fucking change
to learn to love “properly” in the mind
as the hand still explores the pain.
People are never simple.
All crying onions. Layer upon layer.
Until Time is forgotten.
By Philip Wardlow Dec 2020
Live fiercely while time abounds,
and stop biting at the bonds
of which you think constrict
you, for they don’t for a life lived properly
constructed in the spending.
Hold time’s hand as if as a friend, love
every nature of it’s passing and it shall
slow down and comfort every second
of your days.
Create a world uniquely all yours,
from the infinitesimal to the grandiose
inside or without, to implode
or explode into a world of your
Sluggish temptations will always pull at the
the very fabric of you, a quicksand
to drown, a meandering path to muddle,
entropy to trap, as Order becomes
undone and Chaos catches you.
Sleep not with Chaos long no matter how
charming her bed is.
Revel in the importance of your life
love, love, love,
yourself and others
Roll around in that word love
like a dog playing in a
pile of fall leaves,
Never fear the outcome for a life
you have lived fiercely.
by Philip Wardlow October, 2020
Let me close my eyes
and softly sink
my mind intertwininng,
your own tangledness.
I wish to sift through your dreams,
pushing away the debris
to see all the fallen wishes
and struck down desires.
I wish to ride the sorrowful
storms of a life stolen,
lost to the whims of the
Others, those demons
which rode you down and snatched
it all away, laughing,
as if your pain
was just a game.
I want to see all of it,
each and every dream,
witnessing it with you
in a tight embrace.
Holding you, I would whisper
that it will all
For you are home now,
and your dreams are
safe for I hold them
as dearly as I hold
you now and until
the end of
by Philip Wardlow September 2020