Jump in the river and let it carry you out of the dark forest you are in…
Who cares where it flows if you are already lost….
Fearing anything is inevitable,
so face it headlong at a dead
run.
I hear most outcomes cause
you to grow beyond what you
thought of as a once heeled truth,
allowing you to leave that dark forest
far behind,
as you continue
to flow on, and on, and on.
By Philip Wardlow May, 2020
My life at times
feels like a slow draining of what
was once me
and I’m just circling a hole
into nowhere.
I need to find that stopper.
by Philip Wardlow Feb,2020
Men fuck up
Women fuck up
Fuck ups beget more
Fuck ups
Go ahead
Get on that bike and
Cycle through more
Fucking up
Skin a knee,
Break a heart raw
Cycle to you bleed out
all your fucking Up
Then
Find a hill and
Free fall
Legs out
Look ma, no hands
That ER visit gonna
look nice
You Fuck up.
By Philip Wardlow 2018
Moments flit
mounting to minutes,
then hours,
Days cycle
as the sun sets
and I’m left
bereft.
Wasted, are the stars
that twinkle.
Wasted, is the moon
illuminating.
No inspiration wrought.
Looking deep,
a hole hides
where once
a solid space
did reside.
Why the vacancy?
Oh, if only the
tick tock
of time could
halt, or
grind down to
near a trickle
then perhaps
my soul would have
the tenacity
to finally
awaken
once
more.
Philip Wardlow 2018
A deep brackish blue light filtered in through the curtains next to my bed crawling across my closed eyes. I let my head remain, resting on my pillow. Perhaps I could fool the world in to believing I was still yet asleep. Nudges came in thunderous pains, lightening strikes to the brain. I knew I was awake, that was enough.
In all night diner, I found my hands full of a ceramic cup filled with coffee topped with cream in the design of a mountaintop I had yet to climb. Desires awoke in me, spoke to me; whispered really. They never yelled. Never. Except to run. I hated them all. Weaklings all of them.
I slapped myself hard then. Sitting there in the crowded diner, coffee in hand with my mountain in a cup.
I yelled out loud, “I am not a ghost!”
Then I left a dollar tip and got up and left to stares and murmuring all around. I was their talk of the day.
I broke into a run down the sidewalk. If anything I was going to own the running. Fuck the illusions, fuck the dream. Fuck the quicksand of doubt. Ever forward…running.
Just find the rhythm of me. Left, right, left, right…pick them up…put them back down. Running towards it, not away…no matter the pitfalls.
“Viva la Vida” played as I ran by a outdoor bar, then I heard an old woman humming “Cest Le Vie” as she fed the pigeons in the park.
Well fuck, the Universe seemed to be noticing me. For good or bad? I guess we’ll see
As my feet suddenly left the ground to go running amongst the stars.
by Philip Wardlow 2017
The me you see, is just a pale umbra of whom I’m supposed to be.
I’ve come to a wall and I can’t make the jump,
I try and I try and just bounce the hell off.
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.
It’s a cliff so sheer and high that it’s a trick to belie the eye.
I tell myself one more jump…kerplunk!
My little toad head hurts like hell from all the bashing
against the wall.
If I can just find that perfect crack to start me on my crawl to 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
to relieve me of this predicament.
Sorry, no frog underneath this frog-like veneer miss.
But I will be the prince of toads one day.
Fuck the frog I say!
So I look for that crack in the wall,
no matter how small,
to eventually make my way
up and over.
To that other me
that I don’t yet see,
The Prince of Toads,
in all of his bumpy
brown glory.
by Philip Wardlow 2017
quote from the movie “The Gladiator”
Time,
a funny grain
that gets stuck
like a piece of
grit between
clenched teeth.
And spitting never helps, so purse
your lips
tightly.
Dreams,
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.
Love,
Oh love,
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
sound.
By Philip Wardlow 2017
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Poetry • Medicine • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
one thousand words are not enough
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
journal
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Life, and my Wandering Mind
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants it's all about the books we read
she writes
A Wheel of Time Community
Poetry • Medicine • Life
Dating, Poetry, and More
Ignorance is bliss / truth is necessary / rust in the soul
Where writers gather
Realise your innate perfection
one thousand words are not enough
Poetry
Erotic Fantasies
journal
Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...
A Place to share My Love for Painting, Life, and my Wandering Mind
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
Reviews, raves, and rants it's all about the books we read
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 