Which do you prefer to be? The Adored or the Smitten? Why, as the Adored must come all the rewards, Eyes upon you, an audience numbering from one to one million. Hell even the right one can pour it on thicker in one mere moment than a million. How can you lose. How can you not see all the pleasure that brings? As the Adored are you ever bored? The Smitten have always outnumbered the Adored. They keep coming and coming and coming. Literally they may be coming. But in all seriousness, let's just hope they don't knock upon your door as they can get quite obsessive I have heard. Gift upon gift, upon gift, just to catch a peek perhaps to see, if what they they sent fits. It does, Oh , it's divine! Oh, by the way I also like the white one. But the Smitten, oh the Smitten, they have their dreams manifested in flesh, and a smile, and words that are just for them. Oh, the attention....it's everything. To be seen, to know you affect their life in that one small moment To possess the power to push it up or down. They are allowed to live within the life of the Adored, sitting at the edge of them, just a hair's width away from their every movement. Keep those compliments coming though, never wary for the Adored do get bored as do the Smitten. It's a transaction, a give and take. A take and give. Did you think you were Special? You the Adored, do you think you are truly treasured? You the Smitten are you truly charmed? Do you think you see them as they truly are? If in this life we flow from Give and Take what is ever truly real, what is ever truly fake if all our dealings are ever based upon the transaction? by Philip Wardlow, August 31st 2022
Thank you for your pain, but move along
someone else just got the high
score in the game of life
and you are just not
Contract a disease
and then we’ll talk,
that’s last year new It girl,
and you didn’t make the cover.
Hell you didn’t even get
a mention towards
You could always present us
up with a new dilemma, something
tortuous and glorious
something for the ages
And we’ll spy with our little
eye, and give a word or two
of sanctimonious advice
trying not to sound trite
as we hand out a like or love
like its a piece of gold.
But please, seriously, move along
you are taking up
by Philip Wardlow
Happy is never
a permanent state of
More often than not
it isn’t there.
But it is there
Oh, most assuredly it
I feel it
smiling along side
a character in a book, or
lifted by that actor or actress
in a poignantly profound scene.
A hug from across a room by a
friend with just their eyes alone.
To be seen, truly seen when
I speak my words aloud
or write them down
for a stranger I have
Often times I am melancholy,
weighted, and in disarray
But a shared laugh or smile brings
me back home to me
in all the electric intimacy
and I glow inside,
lightened and floating in
the midst of that connection.
Accomplishments, with mountains
climbed, my nature nourished
on the struggles conquered
and obstacles surmounted
that I never thought
would come to pass.
I’ve realized the Happy Comes
when I reach for it,
inviting it in to come
stay for just a bit
until it decides
and having faith it will
always be right around
waiting to say
by Philip Wardlow 2019
Her dress unraveled
Falling slowly, suddenly,
clothed now only in a grin
to mirror my own.
Circling, ever circling
around and around
eyes shaded to what is, what was,
what might be. When all
we needed do was to stop and leave
this fun house to truly see , and never
buy a ticket again.
Oh fat cat, where
did that last cookie go?
Do you suppose
it went down
that big mouse trap of a mouth?
I’m thinking so.
Kill your shadow
before it kills you.
Your shadow doesn’t lead.
You lead you.
I am confused but not confused
I have clarity
In all things
But I am muddled
In all things big
And what matters?
You say THAT matters
He says THIS matters.
She says I matter.
We say WE matter.
When no one does
And everyone should.
And get struck hard with the paddle
Back to the other side
YOU cannot hide
Because that paddles a coming
That about sums
A thousand ivory towers sit clumped
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
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.
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
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
They hate. They love. They lust. They laugh at
Is there sadness behind that smile they
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
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
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.