Tag Archives: Pain

UP or Down


Up or Down
you are still around
Know that. With a heart beat
that’s fucking fierce.
That beauty, that soul, that spirit within
still tolls and tolls and tolls
Oh they toll
Through the ever darkness
a smile, a grimace, a groan
You struggled and you struggle still
you so struggle still.
In bed you laid, fetal
Epitaph gouged out with bloodied fingernails
on wooded headboard
saying “She lived, but where has she gone
and will she ever return and in what state?”
Little does she know
She has gone no where
she never has.
She’s been in it, the visceral reality
sitting heavy upon her chest
choked out to almost
the last breath.
Yet, she struggled out the words FUCK YOU and
GO TO HELL!

So when gravity abates, should
she praise the fickle forces
in their absence?
Fuck them even more, so she says
Fuck them even more.
My heart beats
with no thanks
My heart still beats.

 

by Philip Wardlow

for my friend Candice Louisa Daquin love ya sis  🙂
catch her great work at her website at:
https://thefeatheredsleepcom.wordpress.com/

Throwaway


Throwaway –

You are tortuously pretty,
but that’s never been enough.

I shall entertain you for the night
and you shall pay, oh you
shall pay and you shall love
the purchase.

I will stroke your ego
as you hold it tight
and stroke mine.
But please don’t get attached to “it”
nor I
For I don’t have time for such frivolities

I will listen, I will see you, I will care
for that is who I am,
at heart
But you in the end,
you are
a snack, a mere morsel.
That could never satiate.

I will smile, I will laugh as appropriate,
and convey every nuance to let you
know where my interests lay, but really,
its all just a lie.

You are wanting
wanting of something I could never give

My heart, dear
My heart

Though it beats.
It beats free.
Free of a pain
I never want to venture
to ever endure
or see again.

I have thrown that possibility
far far away from me.

by Philip Wardlow 2018

***Character treatment for erotic novel I am writing this year

Soulful Cure


 

Soulful Cure

Guide me past the fog and
low valleys into the sunlight that
should be my life.

Mix your elixir and give it to me
Quick, let it flow into my thoughts
and down my throat and suffuse
my body and mind with a healing
balm of bliss.

For my soul aches just a little
and I wish it to stop.

I want to move from this dark crossroad
sitting under this dead tree while these
brown leaves fall around me.

I will ride with you oh wise shaman if you
have that soulful cure that I seek.

I will trust in your wisdom
as you trust in my fortitude
to see things right.

Then can I finally go to my dreams
knowing that I truly sleep
tonight.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Your heart


They all want your heart
This confused piece of meat
which beats inside of you.
Or Nothing,
except perhaps
a small tryst or
deep kiss in the park.
Friendship?
All well in good in intention
Yet execution
is a muddled thing.
When the heart beats
of its own volition
No permission granted,
it takes from you
the choice.
So best leave it be,
this seeming
intention.
Your heart, your heart.
It sits heavy
oh so heavy
take it out
drop it
and it would
dent the Earth
And someone
would come along,
stumble and fall.
Best leave it hidden
this heart.
For when has it
ever
really done you
any good.

by Philip Wardlow 2017

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

She Said – A Poem


whisper-408482_640
She said ~
She said,
I am sick of crying….
I am sick of dying
inside
a little every day
and every night
because life
likes to throw
so much shit my
way
and I cant cope
as I try to lay all the lines
straight
and they just
become entangled
all the more.
Choices come cheap
she said.
If you allow them in
Chances can be taken
when you just jump
Change can happen
with but a whisper
of want conveyed.
So she said.
by Philip Wardlow 2015

My brother – Past and Present reflections


 

 

 

Another_Screaming_Face__by_Master_Chi

My Brother ~

 

His pain grabbed at me, reaching in to hold tight to my chest as he screamed in that moment to no one and everyone in the world. His scream filled me up with an overwhelming emptiness that I could never fully know as it found a small echo within my own soul.

His inner turmoil was plain to see, manifested in the violent visceral cast to his eyes and voice that seemed to travel somewhere else in that instance of time. I realized then that I would never find a way to calm his inner demons that had taken a hard hold of him.

 

 

by Philip Wardlow 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Beautiful Dead Girl – A Poem


Haunted eyes

wrapped in misery.

You are already dead,

so why should you feel pain?

 

Pain is your purgatory

little girl, a grand gift

from scales that can never

be balanced in your favor.

 

Haunted eyes they may be,

but I see defiance, strength,

lingering deep, always

ready to rise to the surface.

 

Never did death look so beautiful

A perfection in form chiseled

from stone beaten up and torn

down by the elements.

 

You wear your cloak well,

dark and tear stained, wrapped

tight around a body that

still flies free.

 

You are my beautiful dead girl.

with cold hands clenching tight around

a warm heart

that beats just for you.

by Philip Wardlow

In a Dark Cave


In a Dark Cave

I see the unseen

knife twist in your gut.

It slices into me as well,

a pale shadow to yours,

but I feel it just the same.

If I could take it all I would,

to eliminate what you feel.

from sunrise to sunset.

I admire your strength,

I cry at times

I love it so.

Your torments deserve accolades but instead you

just get more of the same pain

day after day.

I wish I could name your enemy,

put form to the intangible,

call out your pain to the floor

and wrestle it into submission.

I dream of being a knight,

riding out to the field to slay the dragon

that breathes its fire into you

from afar.

I would cut off its head and stab it

through its evil heart.

But your pain is hidden,

in a dark cave it dwells deep.

I have no torch bright enough

to enter its depths to pull the

foul beast out.

So I will sit,

I will watch,

I will console

The night with you

next to the fire in your embrace.

and I will simply wait.

By Philip Wardlow