Tag Archives: poet

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Don’t know

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Don’t know if I’ll
ever be able to show the world
what I see
Really see
Not a facsimile
Of ifs and buts
But of What’s
and Wherefores
And art thous
And
Not “I suppose If you think so”
Mentalities,
But maybe,
It
has to be that way
as its always been,
To be found guilty
By ignorance, history, and apathy
Your worth only
found after your long
gone in a
cold
cold
grave
when the writings
all done.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2018

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Three Poem Series about our Natures

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Desolate Dame

 

You give him a grin

and forget it all when he

grabs a breast.

He smiles that same stellar smile

that trapped you so long

ago.

You sweat it all out through sexual labors

and forget…

all the moments meandering

constant

in the frontal lobe of your brain that aches

to cut him loose and send him downstream

to go cascading off a cliff.

Yet you play the martyr to his Mussolini,

tied up and tortured in the town square,

while all the passerby’s look the other way.

Weakness

Doesn’t become you.

Defiance should rule.

But yet you grin all over again

when he grabs your breast.

Philip Wardlow 2013

Lazy Days

 

 Orb bright over head,

Naked we lay…tanning.

 

I kiddingly ask if I can lay the palm

of my hand on your ass

and just leave it there.

 

I tell you casually while the sun bakes us,

that we have about another 100,000 yrs

of evolution to go before we stop believing

the bullshit we speak now.

 

Dark clouds move in  as old Mr. Nimbus blows.

A storm is coming…hopefully it only

blows away the shit we don’t need in

our lives.

 

Sorry babe…

Feeling melancholy again I guess.

 

I get lost in the fantasy, because the reality of it all,

is so much different than we suppose.

 

Fantasy….Reality?  Each one has its place.

Haven’t  decided which of the two is

stranger yet.

 

We grab our towels as old Mr. Nimbus spits on us

and go inside to have nice a cold beer .

 

Philip Wardlow 2013

KISA Syndrome

 

“Why ME?”  she asks

I don’t know.

Because you let me in.

Because you’re a good person.

Beautiful,

Intelligent,

Passionate,

But most of all because you’re so full of despair.

…and I have a sword.

Philip Wardlow 2013

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Above three poems originally featured in an online publication called Boyslut – http://boyslutpublications.com/

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Pulled – A poem

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Pulledlittlegirl

A little girl stands with arms open wide.

How must it feel to be the rope in a

game of tug-o-war?

Win or lose, it’s all the same,

the pain of strained muscles

and sinew running down to the core;

almost ripping.

Braided rope is much stronger than a little’s

girl mind or her soul that must hold to a

reality that slowly unwinds.

Her psyche is soft and pliable and will

if pulled, stretched, and thinned out

to nary a whisper of herself,  will

harden in the cold stale air and become

brittle and slowly break away in pieces for

all her days to come.

By Philip Wardlow 2012

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Bloody Party – A Poem

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Bloody PartyVampireBite1

Your metallic sweet taste

drips from my mouth,

down your neck,

between your breasts,

and over your hips

to pool around

naked feet.

 

My bite, an aphrodisiac,

as you moan in my embrace

while my teeth sink deep

into veins drawing

life into my own.

 

Your river of red flows, it travels

pulsates, it beats, a rhythm

keeping time to a force where

I now control its course.

 

Slower, fainter, weaker.

 

You gasp in ecstasy at your

perfect  death.

 

I lay you aside,

and move on to the next,

after all this is my party

and I must attend to all

my guests.

By Philip Wardlow 2012

This poem was originally published in the online magazine called The Carnage Conservatory in 2012.