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
They hate. They love. They lust. They laugh at
Is there sadness behind that smile they
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
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 2012
The me you see, is just a pale umbra of whom I’m supposed to be.
I’m just a toad at the wall who can’t make the jump up,
I try and I try and I just bounce off.
It’s a cliff so sheer and high that it’s a trick to defy the eye.
But what I really don’t know is that I’m just a toad in the road
and it’s just a small curb on a street I’ve come up against.
I tell myself one more jump…kerplunk!
My little toad head hurts like hell from all the bashing
against the wall it’s felt.
If I can just find a crack and crawl in and wind my way up.
But that would require luck…fuck
Where the hell am I going to get any of that?
So I’m a toad,
not a frog a princess can kiss.
Sorry no prince underneath miss
But I will be the prince of toads one day
So fuck the frog I say!
and I look for that crack in the wall,
no matter how small.