Tag Archives: truth

What is meant to Be


 

 

She’s a fiery one,
that Red, a true warrior,
if there ever was one to grace
my path.

She carries with her a lighted voice
honed by a heavy, passionate
empathetic, mystical heart
pumping true,
so be wary
of her tongue
when directed at you,
best you go run and hide little man
while you still can.

She won’t say sorry
when she feels the truth
of a moment deep in
her bones,
but all the same
when they turn away
not seeing their own blame,
she will shed a tear,
for every battle for her
against those she loves
is always a loss.

Apathy, ignorance, and
a darkness
sinks deeps within many
a soul she might call
friend or family, and it’s a
cold, cold day
when she has to
bring that kinship
to its’
final end.

The backlash cuts deep
shoves her
moves her
to stay,
to do,
to be heard
to fight
to show the world that
you can’t shut her up
She will tell you what you
need to hear.

It was always meant to be so for her,
for she has always
been a Warrior.

by Philip Wardlow July , 2020

She’s true


Often, it’s hard to trust what’s true,
when it’s wanted so badly it
sometimes leaves you feeling
a damn fool.

I know her love is rich and as
warm as the dark coffee and sweet cream
in my cup.
So I drink her down, down, down
and she picks my tired soul up
from the ground that I had been
laying on.

She’s my Nature, she’s my Sun, a
a field of flowers which clings
to me that I roll in until
the dawn comes.

I can’t catch her lightning, and
wouldn’t want to try,
She’s finally escaped that bottle,
the lids far flung
I’m just trying to keep up
with her escape
as she runs.

I’m not worried,
I know her eyes will always
find me as I know her gaze seeks
only my own.

I love her truly,
as true as she loves
me, and I would be the
fool to ever
wander away from such a
passionate love that
has all my
affections for all the
time that life
has left for us
to be.

by Philip Wardlow 2020

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

My appetite


 

spectactular

She comes home

and does what she wants.

Does what? We don’t know.

She wont say.

But it’s not much,

because she’s cut off and closed away.

Far and in-between the what-if

of her.

She is a melancholy angry mess

I can’t put my thumb on her

and she’d break it if I tried.

But I do, because I can, and she lets me pry;

however reluctantly,

because that’s all I have ever done.

I speak the truth, because lies are boring vicious things.

Even though the truth is often painful

as a motherfucker,

it’s freeing,

casual and a sweetness

rolled into a ball and

swallowed down

that speaks to my

appetite.

Which always

hungers.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016

 

The Result – A poem


FLyingawayfool
The Result~
What’s the result of it all,
these games we play
these little lies
we tell
to any and all
and ourselves
in the day.
The desires
we want
expressed
and the ones we
don’t want forced
upon us.
What’s the result of it all?
A loneliness that doesn’t have
to be.
An incompleteness swathed
in guilt.
Is it best not to think on it?
Go about your day
boy or girl.
You think too much.
Positive thoughts
take them and run
I have always
been too melancholy
and a funny fool.
in one.
Guess that’s my
result.
by Philip Wardlow 2015