Tuesday Tunes

Lyrics –

We were three little girls from school.
One was pretty, one was smart
And one was a borderline fool.
Well she’s still good lookin’
That woman hadn’t slipped a bit.
The smart one used her head
She made her fortune.
And me, I cross the border every chance I get.
We were the girls of the 50’s.
Stoned rock and rollers in the 60’s.
And more than our names got changed
As the 70’s slipped on by.
Now we’re 80’s ladies.
There ain’t been much these ladies ain’t tried.
We’ve been educated.
We got liberated.
And had complicating matters with men.
Oh, we’ve said “I do”
And we’ve signed “I don’t”
And we’ve sworn we’d never do that again.
Oh, we burned our bras,
And we burned our dinners
And we burned our candles at both ends.
And we’ve had some children
Who look just like the way we did back then.
Oh, but we’re all grown up now.
All grown up,
But none of us could tell you quite how.
We were the girls of the 50’s.
Stoned rock and rollers in the 60’s.
Hunny, more than our names got changed,
As the 70’s slipped on by.
Now we’re 80’s ladies.
There ain’t been much these ladies ain’t tried.
A- my name is Alice.
I’m gonna marry Artie.
We’re gonna sell apples
And live in Arkansas.
B- my name is Betty.
I’m gonna marry Bobby.
We’re gonna sell beans
And live in Brazil.
C- my name is Connie.
I’m gonna marry Charlie.
We’re gonna sell cars
And live in California.

My 2 cents –

it’s March. I am going to be 50 next week and it’s making me feel strange. I never believed that I would see 30…now I am somehow 50? I have lived a full life and it is not even close to being over.  I am going nostalgic for the music choice today but I kinda feel the song as well. There’s not much I have not tried – but I am still enjoying the possibility.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

The Problem with the Pen

by Patricia Harris


the poetry seems to flow
when the pen is no where
within my grasp,
inspiration striking as sleep
begins to take ahold.

I wish my memory
was set to be
as perfect as writing
the words would be.

Then I would have never
lost the words that crossed
my mind you see.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

Unspoken

by Patricia Harris


I have forgotten how
much I enjoyed
the wprds that were
a river flowing from my mind.

so much to say
I somehow never
expected the world
to kill the joy in words
I could so easily find ...

struck dumb in the face
of what was humanity revealed,
I hated what I found.

it was easier for me
to live in the unspoken
then to fight cruelty all over again.

Tuesday Tunes

Lyrics –

Cut me open and you’ll find
A brain, heart, liver, lungs
And a knife in the spine

It’s chilling to know that the last place you go
Might be where the fat lady sings
Does it hurt? I don’t know, and where do we go?
We don’t tease fragile minds with such things

So sell me down the river
First help me sell my soul
It’s something I know I can deliver
I think we’ve finally broke the mold

It’s getting harder to know if I’m sane
My issues are leaking outside of my veins
Somebody save me or end me
I haven’t yet made up my mind

If it leads to paranoia, boy, you might want to hit the floor
Before exposure leads to a metamorphosis we can’t ignore
Lost in the whisper and hung on a prayer
If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there

So sell me down the river
First help me sell my soul
It’s something I know I can deliver
I think we’ve finally broke the mold

Will I be an end to someone’s destiny?
Who’s to know?
And will I give right in to my aggression?
Who’s to know?
Will I fall apart all alone
Who’s to know?
Or will I shine right through
And lay this hate to rest with all of you?

So sell me down the river (down the river)
First help me sell my soul
It’s something I know I can deliver (I can deliver)
I think we’ve finally broke the mold

My 2 cents –

today I have an mri. I will try to explain in my Thursday post ….but I am trying to keep the panic away right now .

Monday Poetry

Poetry

The Language of Poetry

by Patricia Harris


it seems like poetry

is so out of reach,
the language oft
dark and deep.

the poet's soul
broken into metaphor
and need,
written in a language
only the heart can read.

Tuesday Tunes

Lyrics –

‘Thou shalt not kill.
Thou shalt not die.’
Cry!
Last fire will rise
Behind those eyes.
Black house will rock,
Blind boys don’t lie.
Immortal fear,
That voice so clear.
Through broken walls,
That scream I hear.
Cry, little sister! (Thou shalt not fall)
Come, come to your brother! (Thou shalt not die)
Unchain me, sister! (Thou shalt not fear)
Love is with your brother! (Thou shalt not kill)
Blue masquerade,
Strangers look on.
When will they learn
This loneliness?
Temptation heat
Beats like a drum.
Deep in your veins,
I will not lie,
Little sister! (Thou shalt not fall)
Come, come to your brother! (Thou shalt not die)
Unchain me, sister! (Thou shalt not fear)
Love is with your brother! (Thou shalt not kill)
My Shangri-Las,
I can’t forget
Why you were mine.
I need you now!
Cry, little sister! (Thou shalt not fall)
Come, come to your brother! (Thou shalt not die)
Unchain me, sister! (Thou shalt not fear)
Love is with your brother! (Thou shalt not kill)
Cry, little sister! (Thou shalt not fall)
Come, come to your brother! (Thou shalt not die)
Unchain me, sister! (Thou shalt not fear)
Love is with your brother! (Thou shalt not kill)

My 2 cents –

This week should be a love song due to valentine’s day. I just don’t feel it. My veiw of love is not something that is easily commercialized. So I went with a movie song redone to be more potent.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

The Mood has changed

by Patricia Harris


I can see

the shift in your mood,
the intensity
of things falling in place.

building the moment
stone by stone,
the mood has changed
and so have you.

from the way
you are stacking
the emotions up like bricks...
the wall is so nearly built.

Tuesday Tunes

Lyrics –

They just want your head
Moving up and down
Up and down
Up and down
They got inside your head
Flip it upside down
Upside down
Upside down
We can feel an order
Getting in our way
We don’t need the rule of yesterday
Breaking down the borders
Tearing down the sides
Hear this one last time
They just want your head
Moving up and down
Up and down
Up and down
They got inside your head
Flip it upside down
Upside down
Upside down
They just want your head
Moving up and down
Up and down
Up and down
They’ve got inside your head
Flip it upside down
Upside down
Upside down
Up, up and down
Up, up and down
Up, up and down
Up, up and down
Up, up and down
Up, up and down
Up, up and down
Up and down
They just want your head
Moving up and down
Up and down
Up and down
They got inside your head
Flip it upside down
Upside down
Upside down
We can feel an order
Getting in our way
We don’t need the rule of yesterday
Breaking down the borders
Tearing down the sides
Hear this one last time, time, time, time, time, time, time, time
They just want your head
Moving up and down
Up and down
Up and down
They got inside your head
Flip it upside down
Upside down
Up and down
They just want your head
Moving up and down
Up and down
Up and down
They got inside your head
Flip it upside down
Upside down
Upside down
We can feel an order
Getting in our way
We don’t need the rule of yesterday
Breaking down the borders
Tearing down the sides
Hear this one last time

My 2 cents –

21 years ago today I gave birth to my youngest son, though at the time I thought he was my only daughter. He has introduced me to a good bit of the music that I listen to now, though I have always been one with broad taste in music. This song keeps getting stuck in his father’s head….and I am amused by it.

Happy birthday Jason Angel Terrell. I Love you.

Monday Poetry

Poetry

Hidden Within Books

by Patricia Harris


everything is in chaos,

political awareness
is enough to drive most of us
to the brink of death...

so I have decided that I will be found
hidden within my books,
hidden from the news,
hidden from the fear...
hidden in worlds written
to create personal peace.

in a time when dystopia
is current events,
I will choose fantasy,
romance and poetry...
to carry me away.

It is time again

It is time again

I actually waited longer than I usually do. Lost Notes is completely written and scheduled for release. I usually ask 5 or 6 poems from being done. Help me to choose the next volume?