Tag Archives: social

Cri de Coeur


When you are a minority in this country, be it a woman, or of a different race, gender identification, or a non-prevalent religion, you are already a second class citizen. You are simply tolerated and you are either outright told you are not wanted at times or its whispered in your ear at the most unexpected (or expected) moments in your life.

You often will just nod to yourself inside and say, Yeah, that’s right, I almost forgot I wasn’t different from you. How silly of me to have forgotten. Thank you for reminding me I don’t really belong.

A woman or man may become shamed, fearful, angry. Cry tears of sadness, frustration and/or indignation. They make drink, smoke, shoot up, live life to the excess all to assuage their disgust, their inadequacies, or the perpetual fight they think they may not be able to overcome for something they simply were born into. Nothing more. A chromosome here, a chromosome there, all amounting to being defined, boxed and put in your place. Categorized.

Becoming a category, a subject matter, a thing, provides disconnection for the majority. So when the times comes to fight the status quo it is simply met with indifference, ridicule, generalities, skepticism, and even outright suspicion.

What does the majority think we fight for? Why does a woman call out a man in power when he threatens her with her career if she won’t sleep with him? Why does a black man kneel when the anthem plays because he simply wants to make sure that flag really seems HIM in equal measure when it waves in the wind. Why does a man marrying another man, or woman marrying another woman rankle the majority so, when love is love is love?

Majority is the key.

Remember, Majority is the key.

Stop thinking of yourself as not the majority. Don’t acquiesce. Don’t bow your head.

Being a minority is only a state of mind you put yourself in.

So simply cry out from the heart. And say enough.

Philip Wardlow 2017

Ivory Towers – A Poem


IvoryTower

Ivory Towers

A thousand ivory towers sit clumped

tight together.

They fill up the valley below and

spread over the plains of grass as

the river cuts through.

The tops reach higher than the birds

can fly,

Deep into the clouds they pierce

until they scrape the moon as it slowly

passes by each night.

Standing next to a tower

I look up from far below.

Alone.

With a hesitant hand I reach out

And touch the ivory wall.

So smooth and slick like glass as

my fingers run up its length.

Not a crack, not a crevasse

To reach a finger into.

This wall cannot be climbed.

Who dwells in such a high place?

Do they converse across the way,

or do they ignore each other as much

as they do me every day?

Such a lonely place to call home.

These towers seem to me more

like an escape from  the life below.

Where I stand.

If they only understood.

Fortune favors the fool.

by Philip Wardlow 2013

Hiddin Within – A poem


Darknesswithin

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 2012

The World – Commentary on Writing and Connecting


credit for graphic – Christel Steinvorth

I see you World…and I know you see me “write” back. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the stories I run into out here with the bits and bytes that float by from point A to point B. They just floor me.  They either entertain me, touch me, inspire me, teach me, piss me off, or just plain give me a since of camaraderie to the world at large.

Some critics think it’s a colder world socially we live in because its become impersonal, or too sterile in the way we socialize with all the texting, blogging,facebooking, and twittering we do.

I have met people from just around the corner to halfway around the world that I would never have met without this little invention called the computer.

The current population of the world is approximately at 7 Billion and climbing at a net growth of 200,000 new people per day on this Earth…I say those numbers alone could make it a pretty impersonal world to start with.  Now imagine if we didnt have computers to connect in some way to those 7 Billion. Imagine if the word computer wasn’t in the dictionary, and that  this wonderous machine I’m now typing on didn’t exist.

I wouldn’t have met  a funny witty honest little girl named Amna, from Pakistan who showed me the best and brightest is yet to be for the younger generation just now starting to take hold in this world

OR a guy named Seth from PA, USA who has faced adversity from the moment he was born which he continues to struggle with to this day but can still smile and find humor in life and inject that same feeling just by his very spirit and vitality into all his blogs on entertainment, life and love.

There is a woman who lives in Tasmania, who’s never known anything but her small little isolated world on a small island just south of Australia. She’s a writer named Megan Sayer who plans on fulfillng her lifelong dream of taking a trip to the United States and  visit a dear friend that she met online through her blogging. She has many spoken and unspoken fears but she’s learning to face them head on and  challenge herself on an almost daily basis.

There  is a woman , a writer who blogs who goes by the name Stella Marr….who lives in New York City , who was stuck in a world of prostitution, violence, and outright slavery for ten years who climbed  out and turned a corner in her life where so few don’t or can’t in that life. Now she inspires, informs, and sets the record straight  about the misconceptions of sex trafficking of girls and women all across the world.

Then there’s Christian Mihai,  a young writer in Romania,  a young man with a passion and intelligence for all things. He’s driven, he’s creative, he’s inquisitive, he’s profound, he’s inspiring.  He fuels me to be better, to think. Throw away my vanity and just be a student of life and learn my craft as a writer.

Finally, there’s Goregirl, what can I say about her. She knows what she loves and pursues it. An officiando on everything Horror if you couldn’te tell by her blog name. She’s a workhorse for her blogspost…constant, thorough, steadfast, and committed to her followers and her reviews. She has focus. Like an arrow being shot from a bow to hit dead center.

Stories of hardships,abuse,triumphant,being steadfast or driven in anything you love and believe in, showing courage against overwhelming odds. These are stories, these are lives which I recognize. These are people I wish to know. These are people I wish to be. These are people I admire. These are people I wish to write about.