I want a girl with a mind like carbon
who gives life to everything
in my world.
I want a girl who knows me well
and holds me to it.
I want a girl with heels that click
And eyes that dance like fireflies
I want a girl with deep sentiments
Who’s passionate, thorough, and true
She’s playing with her hair
She’s giving me a smile
As her laughter fills my ears
as I bend her over the chair.
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket.
I want a girl who stays in bed
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with corruptible possibilities
Who’ll go skinny dipping with me on a first date.
With fingernails that dig deep
And a voice with dark menace that invites me in.
I want a girl with a meteoric sense about her
I want a girl with delicious resolve
At Barnes and Nobles we will meet periodically
We’ll start to kiss over fantasy and the occasional
She wants a car that uses a stick
She wants a car that will get her there at times
instead of my d*$!
She’s changing her name
From Miss to Mistress
She’s trading her life for something better not found in life
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket
by Philip Wardlow sort of 2017 🙂
She’s now my melancholy,
my quarter note
She’s the one that spun
after I played her over and over.
A glissando of whims, wonderment, and woe
up then down
Sliding, ever sliding
to that natural progression
where our music was surely meant to go
to fade, fade, fade, away
and come to
by Philip Wardlow 2017
Right Where it Belongs
See the animal in his cage that you built
Are you sure what side you’re on?
Better not look him too closely in the eye
Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?
See the safety of the life you have built
Everything where it belongs
Feel the hollowness inside of your heart
And it’s all right where it belongs
What if everything around you
Isn’t quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks
Would you find yourself find yourself afraid to see?
What if all the world’s inside of your head?
Just creations of your own
Your devils and your gods all the living and the dead
And you really oughta know
Round and round and round and round and round
the needle gliding effortlessly
dragging over the unseen bumps
in a well worn groove
where it can’t climb out.
Of its own accord,
the needle lifts,
back to the start and begins again
its shitty little song.
You might think robotic seeming in its prescribed nature,
but there is oh
so much less thought behind it’s action
For it’s been simply
fit together with
molded parts long ago
to enable this
action over and over.
This spinning piece of compressed black vinyl
on edge, dips and wobbles
to mine eye.
Warped beyond belief.
Perhaps once laid out in the sun
or caught in the hot backseat
I never did take good care of them.
So as the needle lifts up yet again,
I remove the old record from its place
Hold it delicately in hand
Then gripping tightly
Swiftly bring it down to
meet the wooden corner edge.
I pick up the broken bits,
deposit every last piece
in the trash.
Then remove the plastic wrap
from a newly minted song
and carefully put it down
Lifting the needle up
off its cradle
I kiss it softly to the
To hear something fresh.
by Philip Wardlow 2017