Tag Archives: life

Take Courage in Oz


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Take Courage in OZ ~

You have a brain
bespectacled girl.
You have a heart
as the tears flow.

You are on the road
even though
the yellow bricks
are all  faded and
cracked

You are on the road.

Take courage
as the forest for the
trees
grow up and around,

Dark arms reaching,
menacing.

Its all they are,
menacing arms

Its all they ever are.

Take courage in the night
for the moon lights
your path.

The lions, tigers and bears
are friends

For who could resist your charms.
Oh my!

Who could indeed?
And if they did.
Well what kind of friend
would they ever truly
be.

Take courage  in Oz
for you walk the same land
as them.

By Philip Wardlow

Little Prince Quote by Antoine De Saint Exupery


“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred  thousand other little boys.  And I have no need of you, and you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a Fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, than we shall need each other. To me you shall be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.

by Antione De-Saint Exupery –  from The Little Prince 

 

Bravery


I have seen them,
the brave ones
with head down
rushing in
challenging the
world, waiting for it
to slap them down
they ride the sharp edge of insanity
until it either finally
lifts them high
or cuts so deep
to the bone they
bleed out
blood coagulating
at their feet
and either die
or get sewn up,
and given a bottle
of red in transfusion
from another
who says
go ahead take mine
I don’t need it
I’ve got plenty
yet they do need it.
But the world
is better for it
in the end.
The brave ones.
with
head down
riding the sharp edge of insanity.
And
so I begin
my ride.

 

By Philip Wardlow 2017

La vie est belle (Life is Beautiful) Song by Indochine


Life is Beautiful

 

My banker thinks that I might need somebody to help me

Whereas, my shrink  says that I actually need somebody to love me

The passing time always leads us to face ourselves

If it’s not me, who’ll resolve my problems?

I’ve heard it, ‘you overcomplicate things’

Try to better see how much life is beautiful, open your arms

I told myself, ah, that life is beautiful

Maybe for you, who lives like you’re in a dream

Dressed in gold and silk

Ah, life is beautiful

Ah, life is beautiful

Mom sees me becoming an architect or a doctor

I work at the plant, my boss sees me as worth nothing

Dad told me ‘being a musician is not a job’

Let me close my eyes until tomorrow, at least

I’ve heard it, ‘you overcomplicate things’

I’ve heard it, ‘you overcomplicate things’

Try to better see how much life is beautiful, open your arms

I told myself, ah, that life is beautiful

Maybe for you, who lives like you’re in a dream

Dressed in gold and silk

Ah, life is beautiful

Ah, life is beautiful

I’ve heard it, ‘you overcomplicate things’

Try to better see how much life is beautiful, open your arms

I told myself, ah, that life is beautiful

Maybe for you, who lives like you’re in a dream

Dressed in gold and silk

Ah, life is beautiful

Ah, life is beautiful

 

Lyrics and Song by Indochine

 

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

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

Excerpt from “Everything on It” by Shel Silverstein


A spider lives inside my head
Who weaves a strange and wondrous web
Of silken thread and silver strings
To catch all sorts of flying things,
Like crumbs of thoughts and bits of smiles
And specks of dried-up tears,
And dust of dreams that catch and cling
For years, and years, and years…

More than he knew ( for my Father)


 

I didn’t cry for you when  mom told me you had just died. I don’t cry in front of most people.  It’s too much to give them of me.

My two brothers had.

I remember my older brother wailing something awful, eyes full of anguish while my younger brother’s eyes filled over, tears  flowing down his cheeks like a runaway river in full flood.

Like you, I never showed anger nor did I ever show sadness.  But I remember your smile and your silence.  Such was I.

Three days later we drove the hour and half to your house in another town to collect your things and attend your funeral. You always felt a world away but you had always been close really.

There it sat,  your house, small, non-descript,  dull in color.

I recalled as we entered, me  visiting you once all by myself staying for a weekend.

I had baked you a nice big chocolate cake because mom used to bake for you and I knew you missed it and I wanted you to smile and be happy because I knew deep down you were not.

I wandered the house slowly taking you in.

In the bathroom your razor still sat at the edge of the sink just waiting for you to come back to pick it up and use it.

The chair you once sat in,  still with the noticeable impression from the gravity of your body filling it as  you watched television.

My brothers started fighting over something of yours they wanted to keep for themselves. My mom began to complain loudly about something frivolous like she so often did.

There I stood in the middle of the living room. Lost. Thinking of you.

A soft light spilled through the living room window to fall on the wooden floor  at my feet lighting upon the dust motes which filled the empty space.

I pictured you there. Like me. Lost . Forgotten while the world worked around you.

A deep welling up of painful pressure begin to rise in me, to think of you perhaps feeling you were not loved in your last years here on earth.

To think you perhaps felt alone in this world at the end of it all, your life coming to a close and no one there to send you off with a held hand, or a kiss or heartfelt word.

Then I silently begin to cry standing there.

I couldn’t have stopped if I had wanted to.

Then mom noticed and pulled me in close with a hug, my brothers turn to me and I didn’t care

For these tears were for you not me.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2017