Name a monster some say and it's yours for life.
Many may never know it's true name or nature
yet they usually tend to make one up and ascribe
to it all the foul attributes of hell.
Why, they will be so proud of the monster they
have invented as to shout its direness from
the highest rooftops as they give it
a blanket so it doesn't catch
cold under their bed.
All the while the real monsters
slink and slyly wink as
you share a drink
with them over dinner
along with friendly banter
of the utmost esteem.
by Philip Wardlow October 7th, 2021
To meet during the chaos of our lives as the cruel planet revolved endlessly around.
The Universe said, “Here, take a look at this, isn’t it all you have ever wished for?”
“Yes, yes it is,” I replied inside, “she’s the type of girl I could love.”
From the come fuck-me eyes, to that open sweet smile, to those hips which told a future tale of open thighs letting me inside, from her warm heart to her internal heat.
When the Universe speaks, you better listen hard, for she may only whisper but once.
I didn’t blink, I didn’t turn away. I smiled back.
I saw her that night, fully. Her and I, laid out together for the next years of our lifetime and perhaps well beyond if the myths be true.
She was the one, she is the one.
From her eyes, to her smile, to her hips and well beyond.
Sketch me, sketch me, and I bet yea that you will not see me the way I wish to be seen.
Flawed and imperfect scribbles put down on paper, chaotic with no intention or care of staying within the lines at times. Sadistic selfish hard edges fading to soft featherings of delicious needs and wants at the corners of my contained fine lined darkened soul.
The eyes, the eyes, there is a beguiling light behind those shaded eyes, a light, a light, so fucking bright as to mesmerize, if you were to look too long, you would see everything, but most seldom ever do take the time.
Ah, but what is a sketch but a sketch?
A glimpse, a side eyed introspection. Am I not correct?
So there is no disrespect at not knowing the me of me when all the hours of my days and yours can’t be devoted to explore the why and where of us in all it’s full glory.
Perhaps though, that’s what keeps you and I coming back to each other over dinners, drinks and all some such.
They say parents shouldn’t outlive their kids, but should an older brother outlive their younger?
Much like a parent, the older brother directs, and protects the course of the younger.
Unlike parents, the older brother can also be a partner, a fellow perpetrator of many a fun misdeed gone awry. That is where bonds lie deepest, where intimate secrets are kept and held between a kin closer than that of the mother or father.
Sharing of sins, and the punishment of those sins, sharing in the joys and adventures that is youth in its whole.
You share a core with that little brother that none may know. It’s unspoken but known to the bone between you two.
To the Bone.
It’s honored, it’s delicate. It’s something that always dwells.
So when you see your little brother, dismal and seemingly damned, fallen and fragile, raging against an unknown foe and miles from the place in him from where he was once was, you know.
Where in the core that you share, now only dwells despair, you weep, and you weep, and you weep in the silence where no sees, because a man doesn’t cry, they simply don’t.
You know you won’t cry as he lies in a casket, all dressed and prettied up. You know you won’t cry when other’s speak of him in passing or come up to you with a hug, and “I am sorry for your loss”
You know you won’t cry simply because you have already cried so much as bit by bit of your little brother was pulled from you, excised with a sharp knife, and put into a blender and pureed to mush.
I love recalling the past of you when we first met, when the Universe nudged me into you, I remember your first smile, shy but sly, your first laugh, full and inviting. your body as it danced, swaying and in sync with my own. I remember your eyes looking at me with a lust of a thousand lovers, then later with love like a thousand poems I don’t want to forget the first time of knowing you and everything that pulled me into those eyes, running. I want all the songs that are ours to wrap up around us every time you walk into the room I don’t want to forget you the first time.
Because those first times always bring me home to you and I love you all over again just like the first time.
She can be full of fun and frivolity
or a chaotic mixture
of intensity and crazy passion
all in one day.
She may travel a trail in the
dark dark woods
wanting to be pushed against the rough
bark of a tall tree
as the sun peeks
as I give her a kiss on her pale freckled cheeks.
She’s exasperating as a girl can be with
adventurous
ideas such as she.
But I wouldn’t trade her for the world though,
for my own world pales next to her
and all her lovely curves, from smile to almond eyes, to her hips divinely held in my hands, oh, and her heart, her heart, the loveliest curves of all.
She is the softest of the softest, a woman that needs to be touched, she is a bundle of wanting that compels me to please her, every day, every hour, every moment that transpires.
I don’t wish to let my curvy girl down, to fail her, to not show her she is everything to me and more.
I adore her. I love her in so many little ways.
I want my curvy little Red always to adventure with, laugh with, & travel the many ways of this life for ever and always.
The cold is creeping as the flowers start to grow thanks to a weeping sky that often never lets up Yet the shy sun peeks eye intent then runs away as the clouds fly and dissipate their desires and the flowers grow as the cold still creeps.
Warmth rides the skin, plays with it, hugs the soul, the world sees potential in the what-if, but the cold creeps into their bones as they grab and hold tight to frayed blankets full of holes But the flowers are growing, can you see the buds, the ground birthing green?
Many beautiful rich colors to come even if the bold cold wishes to persist.
She discovered me in the darkness, coming to me wrapped in alluring music and undulating waves of red and blue light, she burst into me with a beckoning and a proposal to envelope her in all that was and all that ever would be beautiful in the universe. So I jumped, Fears falling away, Her soul enthralling enchanting, calling to my own that I had forgotten, and I fell and fell and fell.
She’s my mystic, my medium, my witch, and my fortunes come home to rest in arms wide open
Dark Francesca, they call her.
In the darkest of hours
they say to watch out for the
raven haired one,
for she’s trouble
…oh so much trouble.
Even as she claims
to have an angel’s heart
she’s got the devil’s glint
in her eyes.
Be wary, for she
collects conquests all
the while she makes
you feel you are doing
the conquering it’s
your soul she’s
devouring.
So make no mistake,
steer clear.
And Don’t!
Don’t, look in her eyes
lest you become
mesmerized
Yet even spying her hips
as she walks away.
is enough to enthrall,
with her pendulum
undulations lulling
your senses,
falling
falling
falling
under
as you fall prey.
Perhaps though
if you are lucky
enough, she
may take you home
and simply
use your body up
But if she takes
a fancy to you
more than that
well I’m sorry.
All bets are off.
It was nice knowing you
But there
could be
worse ways
to go
from this world.
Live fiercely while time abounds,
and stop biting at the bonds
of which you think constrict
you, for they don’t for a life lived properly
and wisely
constructed in the spending.
Hold time’s hand as if as a friend, love
every nature of it’s passing and it shall
slow down and comfort every second
of your days.
Create a world uniquely all yours,
from the infinitesimal to the grandiose
inside or without, to implode
or explode into a world of your
own making.
Sluggish temptations will always pull at the
the very fabric of you, a quicksand
to drown, a meandering path to muddle,
entropy to trap, as Order becomes
undone and Chaos catches you.
Sleep not with Chaos long no matter how
charming her bed is.
Revel in the importance of your life
love, love, love,
yourself and others
Roll around in that word love
like a dog playing in a
pile of fall leaves,
just being.
Never fear the outcome for a life
you have lived fiercely.
