Take on Me by Aha Unplugged version


 

We’re talking away
I don’t know what
I’m to say I’ll say it anyway
Today’s another day to find you
Shying away
I’ll be coming for your love, okay?
Take on me, (take on me)
Take me on, (take on me)
I’ll be gone
In a day or two
So needless to say
I’m odds and ends
I’ll be stumbling away
Slowly learning that life is OK
Say after me
It’s no better to be safe than sorry
Take on me, (take on me)
Take me on, (take on me)
I’ll be gone
In a day or two
Oh the things that you say
Is it live or
Just to

Be Still My Beating Heart by Sting


Be still my beating heart
It would be better to be cool
It’s not time to be open just yet
A lesson once learned is so hard to forget

Be still my beating heart
Or I’ll be taken for a fool
It’s not healthy to run at this pace
The blood runs so red to my face

I’ve been to every single book I know
To soothe the thoughts that plague me so

I sink like a stone that’s been thrown in the ocean
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart

Be still my beating heart
You must learn to stand your ground
It’s not healthy to run at this pace
The blood runs so red to my face

I’ve been to every single book I know
To soothe the thoughts that plague me so
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart

Never to be wrong
Never to make promises that break
It’s like singing in the wind
Or writing on the surface of a lake

And I wriggle like a fish caught on dry land
Struggle to avoid any help at hand

I sink like a stone that’s been thrown in the ocean
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart

Songwriters: Gordon Sumner

The Feels


 

People either embrace the feels
or they fight against it.
Neither is wrong, and neither is
right.
It’s all just timing and circumstance.
Want or Need. Fight or Flight.
There is a glitch in us, for or
against, for whatever reason
we deem important in that slice
of time that it demands it of us.
We move mountains to attain it
or disengage from even the remoteness
of it happening in a flicker of an eyelash.
Fear and anxiety wells up within us
or an earnestness and compulsion
pulls us like a loadstone to the beautiful source
I have seen it in others…I have felt it from others
I have felt it in me.
You can do nothing to fight it.
Simple avoid or engage.
Yet, you need the feels in either aspect, in
the positive or the negative
in order to engage in life,
to be functional
You need that connection to the what-if
of the word or the now of it.
That connection no matter how
tenuous or deep meaning.
You choose your poison in the
dosage you yourself dole out.
I will choose my own and perhaps
we will in a future time
where both
our wills coincide.
Finally meet.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

Leavetaking


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I touched on you
for the merest moment
as each caress was counted
by my hand upon your
skin.
While each multitude of last kisses were my final goodbye that took it’s slow
approach in the
forever meandering days we spent
in ignorant luxury with
one another.
Fools,
yet fortunate ones
to find such a rich
treasure
Deep in the eyes of another
Us knowing the
full wealth
we clutched
And still finding
the strength
to set it aside
knowing it could
possibly lead to
a profound
sadness
from which there would be
no escape from.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

Mr. Mucky Muck


Climbing out of the mucky muck
getting out of the quicksand
of me
Expulsing the meandering mélange of
my bluesy Eeyore ways.
Striking a chord of resonance
to perchance
take a chance
on the what-if
of a life
less melancholy.
Stomp, stomp, stomp that fear.
Pull, push, fly against that gravity
paddle, run, roll
down that hill
Letting the fall aid my
cause.
Oh you mucky muck
you doldrums,
you insidious funk
I will take thee
by the scruff
and shake thee about
and shout in your ear
get out, get out, get out.
Slink you well away.
Ooze on down the road.
Mr. Muck
You are not wanted here.
No matter how well you look
in that three piece suit
and your comedic
bravado,
You will always fall
short as a true friend
no matter how comfortable
you seem in your skin
I see all to clearly below
that shady veneer
So goodbye
Mr. Mucky Muck,
Goodbye.

Philip Wardlow 2017

Seven Days by Sting with Lyrics


Seven Days

“Seven Days” was all she wrote
A kind of ultimatum note
She gave to me, she gave to me
When I thought the field had cleared
It seems another suit appeared
To challenge me, woe is me
Though I hate to make a choice
My options are decreasing mostly rapidly
Well we’ll see
I don’t think she’d bluff this time
I really have to make her mine
It’s plain to see
It’s him or me

Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late

The fact he’s over six feet ten
Might instill fear in other men
But not in me, the mighty flea
Ask if I am mouse or man
The mirror squeaked, away I ran
He’ll murder me in time for his tea
Does it bother me at all
My rival is Neanderthal, it makes me think
Perhaps I need a drink
IQ is no problem here
We won’t be playing Scrabble for her hand I fear
I need that beer

Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late

Seven days will quickly go
The fact remains, I love her so
Seven days, so many ways
But I can’t run away
I can’t run away

Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late
(Sunday’d be too late)
Sunday’d be too late

Do I have to tell a story
Of a thousand rainy days since we first met
It’s a big enough umbrella
But it’s always me that ends up getting wet

Songwriters: Gordon Sumner (Sting)

Cri de Coeur


When you are a minority in this country, be it a woman, or of a different race, gender identification, or a non-prevalent religion, you are already a second class citizen. You are simply tolerated and you are either outright told you are not wanted at times or its whispered in your ear at the most unexpected (or expected) moments in your life.

You often will just nod to yourself inside and say, Yeah, that’s right, I almost forgot I wasn’t different from you. How silly of me to have forgotten. Thank you for reminding me I don’t really belong.

A woman or man may become shamed, fearful, angry. Cry tears of sadness, frustration and/or indignation. They make drink, smoke, shoot up, live life to the excess all to assuage their disgust, their inadequacies, or the perpetual fight they think they may not be able to overcome for something they simply were born into. Nothing more. A chromosome here, a chromosome there, all amounting to being defined, boxed and put in your place. Categorized.

Becoming a category, a subject matter, a thing, provides disconnection for the majority. So when the times comes to fight the status quo it is simply met with indifference, ridicule, generalities, skepticism, and even outright suspicion.

What does the majority think we fight for? Why does a woman call out a man in power when he threatens her with her career if she won’t sleep with him? Why does a black man kneel when the anthem plays because he simply wants to make sure that flag really seems HIM in equal measure when it waves in the wind. Why does a man marrying another man, or woman marrying another woman rankle the majority so, when love is love is love?

Majority is the key.

Remember, Majority is the key.

Stop thinking of yourself as not the majority. Don’t acquiesce. Don’t bow your head.

Being a minority is only a state of mind you put yourself in.

So simply cry out from the heart. And say enough.

Philip Wardlow 2017

The Right Spice


You are the heat I consume
on a cold cold blustery day
as I’m snuggled down deep
with you in bed.
Your aroma floats to me
as a small grin spreads
across my face.
You are a familiar smell
I know very well
Never in doubt,
my little pumpkin spice latte
you permeate me
senses and all.
Your spice is just right.
Biting, sweet, intense
Grabbing me
Compelling me
As I inhale you in.
To finally taste thee…

by Philip Wardlow 2017

Dark Days Perhaps Fade Away – Poem#1 through 3 Collection


Poem #1

Snuggled down deep with the dark at our backs, intense heated light upon our cheeks while tales are told of places and times either long gone or yet to be of the bold; fighting, with either triumph or death to unfold in stories so unreal as to be real for truth lies in the darkest of tales, ever mercurial and seeking a willful ear…

 

 

Poem #2

Lost little monster of the dark auburn woods . She is hidden, ever hidden deep within. A hideous beauty.  Sweet dark girl with eyes that burn with a magic earned in dark fires held sway by an intense and longing angry pain. More fearsome than the darkness that seeks her or so she thinks. Beguiling and devilish yet unknowingly selfless. Just you wait, you’ll see. when the blackness truly and finally comes to knock upon all our doors and hers, she’ll be the only one strong to stand in its way.   To right the many wrongs of a life stripped away.

Poem #3

If there be real magic, I shall discover it in my travels upon my boat, with its sails made of flicks of flame billowing and full, pulling me across a crystal ocean through the night and day of this worn out world.  Alone I shall go, but you may accompany me  if you so wish. But please know dear companion, I shall seek that magic even if I should fall off the edge of it all to find a new more inviting place…

 

 

All poems by Philip Wardlow 2017

You Got Lucky Music by Tom Petty


 

You better watch what you say
You better watch what you do to me
Don’t get carried away
Girl, if you can do better than me
Go, yeah, go
But remember

Good love is hard to find
Good love is hard to find
You got lucky, babe
You got lucky, babe
When I found you

You put a hand on my cheek
And then you turn your eyes away
If you don’t feel complete
If I don’t take you all of the way
Then go, yeah, go,
But remember

Good love is hard to find
Good love…

 

by Tom Petty

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TheFeatheredSleep

Tigers not daughters

VIVID LENS VIEW

Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...

Awapara Art

A Place to share My Love for Painting, Life and my Wandering Mind

All Thoughts Work™ Outdoors

Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Just read

Reviews, raves, and rants it's all about the books we read

Musings of a mad woman

Bipolar is my superpower

ReclusiveDreams

writing what my mind tells me and what my heart feels

World of Horror

A place for writers and book lovers

Elan Mudrow

The Ridges of Intertextuallity

Exclusive Inflictions

by Kelly Lewis

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