Tag Archives: whatif

The Rabbit Hole


 

A flop-eared fuck of a rabbit ran on by,

tripping over me in his haste.

Never caring a wit in his bumping.

As if the air I occupied was insubstantial

and not worthy of one  of such good taste.

I hadn’t noticed the rabbit hole

 But he just dove

on in.

Fuck that rabbit. I didn’t know

who he was.

Or why he wore a tweed vest

yet his little bunny ass was left to stick

out below.

I just saw a dark hole in the earth.

with nothing but a deeper darkness

within.

Fear clutched my throat

Words choked as I tried to yell

“What the hell?”,  at him.

Gurgling.

Leaving me burgling for time

trying to figure out my

life.

All the whys and wherefore’s

and whozits.

While the background receded,

the foreground contracted.

Leaving me in the tight middleground

of discontent, what-if, and

disillusionment.

I hugged myself tight, but it wasn’t cold,

that was just my soul

falling to pieces

as I tried to hold my self together

while I flaked away.

Go Rabbit, go!

You have the right of it.

You know what time it is; always.

You know.

So  go down that Rabbit hole

because you’re a fucking rabbit

and you know what to expect.

I wish I could go

but

I just fucking won’t fit.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Do Over?


timetravel

If you could,

set a coordinate in time and space.

Push a button. Click…

and in a flick

of an eye lash or

the time it takes

for a humming bird’s heart

to beat just once.

You’re there.

Beside yourself, in yourself

telling that old new person,  who’s just

starting to breath life into their lungs,

To Think.

You would hesitate, that younger state.

For an instant, in listening to the older.

But, you would still follow through;

for their is no do over, no amending.

no take backs.

Time is a tricky bastard, giving and taking

in all the wrong places.

So you float, waiting.

Anxiety of the day always building.

Until it all unravels to reveal

the mystery of those moments in obvious hindsight

as pieces of you  fall through an aperture

to allow only minute grains

for you to view.

Bit by bit, little clues to life why

a person such as you or I might exist.

So travel ever forward, explore.

And try just a smidgeon to listen

to that future self when they

tell you not to fret.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2016