Posts Tagged ‘Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked’

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

ago.

 

You sweat it all out through sexual labors

and forget…

all the moments meandering

constant

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.

 

Weakness.

 

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.

Beautiful,

Intelligent,

Passionate,

 

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

 

…and I have a sword.

 

 

 

Philip Wardlow 2013

Different Tastes

 

I dip my dick

into a wine flute

filled with Pinot Grigio

 

Now,

Taste.

What does your tongue tell you?

 

Are you a connoisseur?

Tell me the year.

I will pour you anything you prefer.

 

Now.

Spread your legs and let my

fingers linger until a raging

wetness ensues.

 

Now,

You must choose.

Grape or strawberry?

 

Pop Rocks go in and

mingle inside your moistness

 

Crackle…Crackle…Pop!

Mmmmmm…

Strawberry…good choice.

 

Now,

Remove the ice cold Coca Cola

from the fridge,

Pop the cap, pour it out and

plunge it in your pussy deep.

 

Your body shudders as you

exhale slowly.

 

Now,

Bottle removed

I enter with all the warmth of the sun.

 

Your body shudders again

as you exhale.

 

Now,

Time for the grape.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2013