Tag Archives: life

Nothing…yet Something


 

 

Milkyway

 

Nothing,

that’s what I feel like sometimes;

Nothing.

Nothing, no where, no how

as

I see a distant sun of vibrant gold

cradled in a bowl of purple and pink

on a horizon I imagine I will never reach,

It reminds me that I’m Nothing

and yet Something to even to be allowed

to see.

A nighttime sky, filled to bursting

with a voluminous marble of a moon

within a black bag of stars I can’t begin to sift through.

Yet I do, and that Something feels cool

on fingertips never finding purchase.

I know Life is a tangled sphere of yarn

wrapped around an onion

spinning and dancing in

an ordered rhythm with other crying onions

as they bump butts.

Nothing and Something,

A single stolen kiss in the dark with a girl,

yet readily given by her, for I am no thief;

soft yet firm, gentle yet wanting.

Nothing exists, not even

me in that moment,

and yet Something.

Clues and misdirection, blind alleys

and closed thoroughfares,

leashed to Nowhere.

Yet Somewhere will be the end when

the journey’s through

Humbled and awed

but at other times

petulant and angry.

I stomp my foot inside my soul.

I am tired of feeling like Nothing

Something sounds good.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

The many flavors of little girl/boy lost


 

Foot

Therapists say the core of us, from the defining moments of our youth, make up a great part of how we see ours lives throughout our whole existence through and into  our growing “adulthood”  until the day we die.

We all walk a path, and that path we walk  sprung up to meet us whether we know it or not. Some have found that magical path and place among the trees where they know peace and a solid foundation under their feet as they tread a world still alien.

Most are not so fortunate whether you think they are or not.

Some of us walk it in seeming surety, with one foot right after the other; having all the answers to life at our lips and the tips of fingertips based on what came before.  Those types outright scoff at times at those who don’t know all the answers or have it all together.  They can truly be arrogant bastards; ridiculing the “underclassmen”  saying they will never catch up.

((Secretly)) they know they do not know everything;  no matter what they say. I have to imagine, that need in itself, to have to be sure all the time; it must drive them mad when their world falls apart at not knowing the answers when push comes to shove in their lives.

I truly do feel sorry for some of them.  For I do believe that type of arrogance is needed in the world to get things done. Else many of us would be sitting on our hands saying woe is me and nothing else. But these types must pay the price at times when the chaos finds them in their own mind.  For no one must see them weak you know.

Others  of us walk in a  meandering, stumbling,  almost drunken course down a  path where our footing is anything but sure.   Always needing that tree to lean on,  or that bush off the road to vomit up our urges and failings behind.

Yet, still they walk, for their is a determination in their lives that drives their legs into motion. They are not comatose. They are not in a vegetative state. They breath, they exhale, and they bring in life and let it out in small amounts.  They evolve in their own course;  through the volitions of some inner or external force which they cannot place,  but it drives them, much like the arrogant ones above, that have already embraced a reality and be damned to anyone who stand in their way.

What else can they do in life but to try?  And besides, they can’t look weak ; not to the  arrogant ones that depend on them to prop them up from time to time when they speak.

Finally, there is that brow beaten soul. That lower than low. The one that goes home to sleep and sleep and dream and dream until the day has disappeared and night encapsulates and settles the debate of who has won that day,  life or him or her.

They will not choose to try again the next day nor the next.  Woe are they, to not even attempt. For that voice that once shouted has been muffled and thrown into a cage of the finest steel made.  Never to be let out, never to be fed or watered, but instead to let whither and die in a lonely cage bound with a strength they gave away.

All because they believed they reached some end.  Some place in their  life they could not rectify, or redeem. Never realizing life is impartial, life goes on.  So go on, life says go on, and don’t be afraid to look weak and go on.

Be that person you lied to yourself about that you told you could not be. This is a lesson for all three of you who walk the path you think you should.

See…the path before you.  Just let yourself  simply really truly see.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It took only One – Olivia Engle


On Earth Day I thought to cite the other species that is fighting against extinction….not in their lives themselves but in the way they value their own lives and way of living at the cost of others. What is dying in us is the ability to be empathetic . We are letting apathy grow in us at the cost of others. Our population is growing, yes, but our lack of compassion is not keeping step with that rise in our numbers. I am just asking you to CARE just a little more than you did yesterday…

#unsung

 

Please also go to  theFeatheredSleep to see about participating in #Unsung heroes in writing your own little piece on your own blog.  🙂

Philip Wardlow's avatarAin't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets..

OliviaEngel

It took only one face on the list to make my brown eyes brim,

It took only one big glorious smile to enter into me and

have my heart fill  up and overflow onto the floor.

I didn’t want to look too deeply for it cut too deep,

yet I feel I should for her.

Here was a life never to know another day.

Here was a little girl with laughter in her

eyes and a future as bright as the sun;

I could feel that warmth radianting,

and seeping into me as I saw her

soul shining forth from the screen.

It took only one and there are

so many more.

It took only one and her name

was Olivia Engle.

By Philip Wardlow 2012

#unsung

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Perhaps the Dream is dreaming me


I stroll this earth in all my Fragile trodding  from point A to Point B.  Clip Clopping in and out of the lives  of others.  My footfalls echo off their souls and their smiles which always seem to gradually fade.

But never mind me,  just let it rain all around this person I call I, which was  placed in this time, upon this big space by unseen hands, holy or not. Forgotten or not. I am here and that’s a good thing.

“Truth hits everybody, ” I heard her say,  as she walked on by,  and I could see the Hole in my Life in her words as she pushed her cart on down the street and rounded the corner leaving me to think on things too much. I have much yet do. Much more compels.

So Lonely you think I be?   Not hardly,  for I see others just as desperate as me trying to flee this dream. Stay oh rats!  Stay. This is a grand ship! Let’s share a piece of cheese!

I pass a bakery and smell the sweet aroma of cinnamon and raspberry and it makes me Hungry for you and brings me to Once upon a daydream thinking of that when of  wanting you to Be my girl, Sally , or whatever your name was back then.

Seven days was all it took to create this place so they say. Perhaps whoever did it should have taken just a little more time and perhaps, just perhaps, there might have been just a little less pain involved for us all. Ah I digress, I always do.

When the world is running down like the so called pundits and arm chair philosophers like to speculate about, I recall all the lost Sallys, and the sweet smells, and all the rain that I have tread in and I can only smile. Because those are my memories, my experiences and they may not be here tomorrow. No matter how bad they were, or good…they are mine and mine alone and I treasure that.

That’s the shape of my heart on the matter. So I continue to dream this dream.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

memories

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will you be?


 

friend

 

 

Hello little guy,

will you be my friend?

For all mine have dissolved away

in the pouring rain

that has fallen throughout

this sad sad day.

Lights shine,

their energy

wanes,

sputters,

ends.

How many

cycles

should

be endured?

How many

lessons

need

be learned

until

a sense

comes to

mind

that I

truly

never had

any friends.

by Philip Wardlow 2016

P.S This poem  is NOT  about me just so you know. I often like to play with POV of other people.

Warrior Chi


She strives

Tested, time and again.

Blood spilled just as readily asWarriorChi

her own tears.

A woman.  Just a woman? Never.

A warrior,

A leader with  a heart laid bare

A protector…

keen of mind,

going in

with innate skills

As death places its deal

upon her table and

she answers back

in kind.

For she was forged in a lifetime

of sacrifice.

Do you hear that?

A soft whisk,

a honing of a blade to

a sharpness like none

other.

Delicate, determined, Beautiful.

Yet, who holds those warrior hands

As the light dims on her day?

Who holds her heart?

and brushes

her tears her away?

Stay strong.

Stay strong Warrior Chi.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She tries


image

I am at a lost
to fathom the depths
and heights of the walls
of her.

The precarious walk
she takes in the lofts
of the upper reaches
must be harrowing.

Her balance must be precise
leveled on the balls of feet
which tread a path where
a head floats in the clouds
never looking down.

At me.
The Flea.

Such is she.

That ignores me.
For who am I
but who laid his heart bare
for her.

It seems I have always known my place in her heart was but a vault
for another key to release
her from a prison.
That I could never see.

But she tries.
This girl. This woman.
She still tries
for me.

By Philip Wardlow 2016

In The End


In The End~

 

“Show me a little more sin,” he said.

You knew the ways of men TheEnd

so you smiled,

giving him a wicked grin,

as you lifted your skirt,

and listed all the

things in your head you

would take from him

in the end.

 

by Philp Wardlow 2016

Hiddin Within


Shadows-and-Fog

 

Hidden Within~

He watches her. She watches him.

The dog , he watches nothing.

Their eyes can’t hide what lies beneath.

A tilt of the head, a downcast look tells

me all I need to know about their inner

Lives.

They hate. They love.  They lust. They  laugh at

Life.

Is there sadness behind that smile they

Give.

Some hide from each other.

Some hide from themselves.

Some hide simply because they can.

I wish I could see all the dreams buried

deep within their heads.

Dreams which they’ve never fed;

maybe a doctor, a lawyer, or a whore,

maybe a pretentious pious little bore.

Their thoughts are hidden;

a landscape of dark shadows and fog banks hung

Low.

I watch it all unfold.

They can’t keep it hidden long,

for like a cauldron bubbles, spews, and spits so

does their mind emit a gurgling of regret, a wisp of

weakness, or a hiss of  hysteria in its’ attempt to lament.

I watch and I wait for it all to unfold,

for the hidden to be found and the found to be told.

I’m a spectator to the grand affair which is hidden within.

So know that when I look at you or you at me,

I will see you, see you indeed.

By   Philip Wardlow