Tag Archives: poem

The Dark Forest


dark-forest-water-artwork-wallpaper-preview

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

 

 

I like the Way


I like the way
she casually calls me Darling
to get my attention
from across the room.
It makes me smile inside
in the nonchalant way
she shows her love for me.
I like the way
she trusts in me to protect her
in any instant,
Hand in mine, anytime;
on a dark street or
in a crowded room.
Even though it saddens me,
I like the way she says
she wants to go before me,
because she says she’s not strong
enough to see me go.
I like the way
we create together these
small places of paradise,
thrown like sand on the wind to drift and drift as we
waft in the hours, minutes, and
lazy seconds
of each other’s company
with no thought of tomorrow.
I simple like the
many ways of you
as I always have
since the very
start of us.
by Philip Wardlow  May , 2020

Skin Hunger


If you had told me I would have
yearned for a simple handshake,
months from now,
I would have scoffed at such a silly notion.

If you would had said a hug from
a loved one was a distant memory
and that only through dreaming in bed
at night could such an implausible embrace happen,
I would have laughed in your face.

No light touches, no manly shoulder to shoulder hugs,
no holding hands, no fist bumps,
no incidental brushing of skin against
skin in the everyday going on
of life.
None of that.

I am bereft and unaware of the warmth
or coldness of a cheek or simple palms of another,
stolen is the smile behind
a mask that might have touched my soul
as they looked my way in the incidental
happenings of a mere
day.

There is a gnawing
Deep
A pang
Inside
Screaming
A hunger
threatening to consume
To feel
To know
the innocent
intimate
touch
of another.

by Philip Wardlow, May 12th, 2020

You Evil Nipples *Graphic Content Warning


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It’s a devious thing..this thing called the nipple…

Why does it point at me so, setting
as a bullseye to wanting,

To suck, pull, twist, lick, and kiss

What an evil, devilish fiend of a form which sets upon your already beautiful breasts that always
beckon the darkness in me.

Torturing you is easy when you point those things at my way with a ready smile,
Hands itch as I lick my lips wanting to take a nip on a nipple
with ready teeth.

I can’t control my actions
when I’m in close,
Fingers deep
Pulsing passions push me
to take those evil nipples and show
them a thing or two about playing
in pain.

I can’t help getting rock hard
when I have you well in hand

Twisting, pulling, and pinching

Blame your evil nipples for what I do to you,
for being fool enough to tempt a sadist like me

 

By Philip Wardlow April, 2020

Everybody is a Fucking Expert


People become afflicted
become sickened
A Mother dies, a Daddy dies
a Brother, a Sister,
a Nephew, an Aunt,
that crazy fun Uncle,
well he’s no longer around.
Yet some know better,
some are fucking experts on everything now:
Epidemiology, Politics
and the Constitution, here
come take your diploma
young ignorant man.
They have just crawled from
the primordial ooze,
but without an ounce of knowledge or true
reflection,
they know the why, the what, and the wherefore
of it all.
Without doubt or reservation,
they string together tens of hundreds
of stories into
a conspiracy of disdain and ridiculousness.
Anxiety now rules an already twisted logic system,
mutating them all into something
new and improved,
The truest most deadly virus of a
a thing called the Fool.

by Philip Wardlow April, 2020

The not so long ago


Not so long ago
you once never were.

Your pretty face was
not an image in my head.
You were non-existent;
invisible in my reality.

Then right in front
of me, you shone
like a day
that never knew light.
You popped in gloriously
and I could not look away.

How many turnings of the Earth,
how many cycles of the Moon
have gone by since that fateful date
of our conjunction?

You were magic found that night,
a treasure uncovered, a beacon
in a blanket of fog as
I held you tight,
dancing,
the music playing,
me dissolving into you.

Now you are ever present,
you sit in my mind
Never moving an inch
for I hold you fast in me.
For the lover you are now.
For the friend you will always be.

I like to think on the not so long ago,
when the Universe
brought your brightness
to me, and that I never want
it to leave.

by Philip Wardlow March , 2020

Certain Songs


There are certain songs that you must
listen to the words,
really listen,
while others songs
you can simply tap
a foot to and let your
soul get lost in the rhythm of.
People are like that also;
you either get lost in them
or sit and listen,
really listen, and both ways
are equally important.

by Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020

 

Order is in the Bar


A cold fire burns within and without in the world I dwell in, and they all dance on a pin while I sit wondering why they dance at all, and what tune is playing as they dance, and do they even hear the music that they dance to because it’s god awful.

I press my ear to the wall in my hotel room and I hear their gibbering, muffled words coupled with occasional laughter. The snatches of conversation never seem to come into focus, never revealing anything but more mysteries of a world that I could never truly see. It’s one of lofty laughter and sick sorrows, and fears reflected off a dirty black mirror sucking in all the known. In that room, desires are unfurled, as regrets are thrown to the floor, forgotten, with lessons never picked up and put in their proper place upon the shelf.

Chaos reigns in that room as Order has a left a long time ago and gone for a drink in the hotel bar down below.

I pound against the wall, over and over.

“Hear me!” I yell at the peeling paint.

“See me!” I yell through the thick crumbling plaster.

“Let me into your party!” For I need talk sense to you savages, or at the very least strangle you all completely so I can finally go peacefully to sleep.

The music abruptly stops. The mumbling, murmurs, and gaiety subside.

Have they heard me? All is quiet.

Then there is laughter all around, and a banging back upon my wall as if by a hundred, a thousand, no a million hands, and one clear word shining through it all of being called a “FOOL” right before the music resumes, louder and more raucous than before.

My fists clinch, eyes becoming intense as dark deeds flood every particle of me. Destruction reigns, blood rising as my blue view begins to fade to a pale red creeping to a dark hue.

Then comes a knock at my hotel room door.

I walk over, looking through the peephole and it’s Order, eye to eye with me.

I fling open the door ready to give him peace of my mind.

“I thought you might need a friend,” Order says,  grinning with whiskey in hand as he walks in, bringing all his new found followers, never ending, flowing in, filling my room complete.

Order’s smile is infectious and I smile back as the cold fire within burning  begins to warm.

I laugh loud and hard, bringing out glasses for everyone, filling them, with Whiskey neat, passing them out fast as I fill them

“A toast, a toast” I say, with a flourish of my glass, “To Order, my friend, for your time shall come as will our own, so drink, drink and turn the damn music up and lets have some fucking fun!

by Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020

Her Many Ways


She says she wants to go before me
because she says she’s not strong
enough to see me go.

She often casually calls me darling
from across the room
likes we’ve always been.

She pulls the positive from me
and pushes the negative away that
at times I let invade.

Whether in darkness or light
she takes my hand knowing
I will protect her in an instant

She seeks to know my day
whether it’s mundane or magical,
she seeks the knowing of me.

She often asks what was the best
part of my day, and my answers vary,
but I never say what I should,
that it’s the drive home in knowing
I’m going to see you.

It’s not easy for me to love.
Distance is my friend, for closeness
lets the hurt creep in.

Yet, I wish her close.
I want her near.
I want everything she
has to offer
I want all her tender
ways.

By Philip Wardlow Feb, 2020