Lazy Days



Orb bright over head,

Naked we lay…tanning.


I kiddingly ask if I can lay the palm

of my hand on your ass

and just leave it there.


I tell you casually while the sun bakes us,

that we have about another 100,000 yrs

of evolution to go before we stop believing

the bullshit we speak now.


Dark clouds move in, Mr. Nimbus blows.

A storm is coming…hopefully it only

blows away the shit we don’t need in

our lives.


Sorry babe…

Feeling melancholy again I guess.


I get lost in the fantasy, because the reality of it all,

is so much different than we suppose.


Fantasy….Reality?  Each one has its place.

Haven’t  decided which of the two is

stranger yet.


We grab our towels as old Mr. Nimbus spits on us

and go inside to have nice a cold beer .


Philip Wardlow 2013


Desolate Dame



You give him a grin

and forget it all when he

grabs a breast.


He smiles that same stellar smile

that trapped you so long



You sweat it all out through sexual labors

and forget…

all the moments meandering


in the frontal lobe of your brain that aches

to cut him loose and send him downstream

to go cascading off a cliff.


Yet you play the martyr to his Mussolini,

tied up and tortured in the town square,

while all the passerby’s look the other way.




Doesn’t become you.


Defiance should rule.


But yet you grin all over again

when he grabs your breast.



Philip Wardlow 2013


KISA Syndrome



“Why ME?”  she asks


I don’t know.

Because you let me in.

Because you’re a good person.





But most of all because you’re so full of despair.


…and I have a sword.




Philip Wardlow 2013

  1. alexisrhonefancher says:

    Wonderful poems. Especially like Desolate Dame. Bravo!

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