The universe is composed of matter everywhere,
visible and invisible interacting on levels we don’t comprehend just yet
…so you do matter.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Tag Archives: poetry
Shake it
I wanted fries with that shake baby,
(she pulls out an order of medium fries from her cleavage)
(I take them)
Thanks, you may continue shaking.
(nom nom nom)
Any ketchup in there?
by Philip Wardlow 2016
How’s your Dumpty in your Humpty?
Cracks…..cracks…they run through us…veins of traveling fissures
leaking god knows what.
How long ago was your fall ? Mr. or Miss.
And do you know what you miss?
That once held you together.
Can you find that moment in time…where your mind
teetered,
then tottered.
Arms flailing….you plummeted
that hole in the pit of you widening.
and then something just died.
inside.
They call me Humpty that rhymes with my last name
Dumpty.
The king horses scotch taped me up and superglued my butt
I’m walking …I’m talking…Breathing through
a cracked gut.
But I’m breathing..
Not a yolk sizzling in the sun.
By Philip Wardlow 2016
Bubble People
They bump along in their bubbles…
with all their different colors
at times comingling…a bright red meeting,
a dull blue or electric yellow sliding along a prim’s
purple slick skinned surface
grazing against, just ever so.
Electric, crazy, frenzied, varied, morphic, erotic
Dare I say fun? Yet…the bubbles eventually move on
Some in sadness…some not giving a shit….beep bopping
away in a rush.
Or they simply just
POP!
By Philip Wardlow 2016
Just a Crazy Dream …
I checked into Motel Sadness and sat down my bags of discontent.
The mini bar was stocked well, so I grabbed the gin and mixed the tonic of my life, crushed in my Lemon Eyes, raised my glass, gave a toast, telling them all I was Sorry for ever crossing their path.
I downed that motherfucker in one gulp and prepared another,
and another, and another… for the Heart heart head of thoughts that were sure to come.
The day disappeared as night consumed, wrapping me up like a A Bolt from the Blue. I laid there. Just laid there until she came. I heard her jimmy the lock of my life and Desire walked on through. She was high, and not very lady like as she straddled me,
high heels digging, she whispered with the reddest lips wrapped in a wicked grin,
“I really want you to hate me, Cuz I’ll never love you baby”. Then she got up and walked out to join a passing Parade.
So I got up….left my room and I ran and ran, like a child wild in a playground
down a street with no shadows; even though the street lamps cast
a deep sodium glow.
It seems I can’t even entice a dark silhouette to accompany me. Make a Shadow I intoned Make a Shadow so I dove, into a dumpster deep, and mingled with the garbage heaped, and fell fell fast asleep.
The Morning after came and the bears were rummaging, waking me from a better world
not so obscene.
I couldn’t face the ground with its vicious disregard to support so I climbed and climbed up the fire escape to the tippity top of the tar covered roof, sticky from the bright midday sun and jumped.
The dust flew from wings in full extension as a Feather floated to the alley below but I was light and I went up; on currents caught, finally realizing I was free.
Go….
Go…
Go…
Said my soul, Go
be that beautiful Monster they all believe you to be.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Embrace
Embrace me
with a quiet desperation
as we dance.
For the music could stop
at any moment.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Thoughts Fly
The mind follows where the thoughts fly to, from plummeting to the darkest deep depths of despair , to soaring above a sun kissed peak of pleasing passions, or to perch on naked branch as a comforting wind caresses you, letting you know you are never alone in the world.
Ship in a Bottle
Ship in a Bottle~
A sailing we will go!
A sailing we will go!
But on the currents we shall float
on a ship in a bottle in a big row boat.
The wind cannot touch our sails,
only our faces as we sit,
atop the glass
on a encased little wooden ship.
Our phonograph shall play at the stern
pushing us melodiously along
as we sit on the bow of the
bottle as the clouds pass low.
The little sailor man below, dressed so primly
but with his big straw hat to shade the sun,
shall keep a firm grip on the
tiller to steer our unknown path
to the unknown.
And I and my friend, shall munch
on little sandwiches come lunch
and just enjoy the day
as it passes by, spying our fancy friends
in their hot air balloons in the distance.
As we sit on our ship in a bottle in a big row boat.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
Every Day
Every Day~
Every day is a gift,
a fucking gift.
Why? Because I said so.
So unwrap that fucker.
Rip open the packaging,
fling the red red red ribbons to the four winds.
Bite that mother loving tape with your teeth if you must
Is that a Snaaarl I hear from you…?
It’s your present.
Do what you must.
Dive, dive, dive into that damn box!
See, see , see, what you’ve got?
Fuck.
Socks.
Slip’em on for a go….
Now go…just fucking go.
by Philip Wardlow 2016
AT THE MARATHON (GAS STATION)~
AT THE MARATHON (GAS STATION)~
AT THE MARATHON .
CHEWING BUBBLE GUM
MY FORTUNE SAYS I’LL BE ENVIED
BY EVERYONE.
AT THE MARATHON
CHEWING BUBBLEGUM
SITTING AT THE MARATHON
WAITING FOR A FRIEND TO COME
AT THE MARATHON.
WHO’D ENVY ME?
THE ONE WHO OWNS A BROKEN CAR.
AT THE MARATHON
WHO’D ENVY ME
THE ONE WITH A BROKEN HEART
AT THE MARATHON
THE NIGHT IS GETTING COLDER
AS THE CARS DRIVE BY.
AS I CHEW MY BUBBLEGUM.
WHO’D ENVY ME?
AT THE MARATHON.
By Philip Wardlow 1989
Ain't no rest for the Wicked - Philip Wardlow - The real and the sensual sides to life in all its facets.. 