Joy Leftow's Blog, page 20
September 4, 2013
August 29, 2013
Finally Finally ...
This was a very tough issue for me as I had no one to do layout except me. As it turned out, the cover was created online using pages which it took me a minute to figure out. With the rest of the issue I used microsoft word which didn't seem any more difficult than pages but is a bit easier than Adobe in Design. I spent about 20 hours and a full day sitting at my computer. Boy was my butt sore!
UuuuuugggggGGGGG
Here she is in all her glory.
Short stories, poetry and art.
Featured Poet: M. Miriam Herrera
Featured Artist: Chor Boogie
Yay for me I made some headway!
The Cartier Street Review is out July 2013
Other artists:
Joe Giodano
Florence Weinberger
Thomas Hubbard
Williams
James Maloney
Finally Finally ...
This was kind of tough as I had to do all the work for this issue myself. I spent about 20 hours and did in combo of pages and microsoft word. Ugggghhhhhh
Here she is in all her glory.
Short stories, poetry and art.
Featured Poet: M. Miriam Herrera
Featured Artist: Chor Boogie
Yay for me I made some headway!
The Cartier Street Review is out July 2013
Other artists:
Joe Giodano
Florence Weinberger
Thomas Hubbard
Williams
James Maloney
August 18, 2013
DAYBREAK
Cellophane moon rides high in sky
Moon tides burst with song
Stings my unnurtured heart with ruptured longings deeper
than sea ringing inconsolably
Jimmies the lock triples the false starts below the bistro
glows yellow lights glimmer
Flickr the night away dreaming fritter the morning sun
warming the ground I lie upon
Pray to the diverse universe of sounds emerge reborn from
the womb
I am
The sting hurts worse the first time I lay claim to
Cleopatra’s birthright
Scent from heaven
Love makes wrongs right
You get it or you don’t
Try harder to bite the dust emerging from my womb
Clean house, sweeps dirt from beneath the rug
hidden corners emerge bathed in dawn’s light
Aglow with merchandise to show I sweep the surface below
words running rapids
Afraid of the flow falling unbidden from lips unspoken
nerves violet loves
bright blue golden fringed butterflies dance in my eyes
Walking through the rain at daybreak, no longer feel
teardrops flowing with the rain
Flooded by memories, past difficulties, unable to eradicate
even one memory
Live through memories daily, replay in my head, I can’t deny
Memories thrive, can’t forget no matter how hard I try
Memories linger, replay day after day
Memories cling to me like worn out clothes
I have the sense to trash these memories insist, resist any
effort to throw them away
Memories return to torture me repeatedly
Lure me to decipher hidden sentiments tucked away
To lonely dark secluded places deep beneath the rubbish that
stands for anything real
I assign a name to a place tortured by time grown wise
beyond the horizon
anger seethes beneath crimes committed, I admit my guilt,
“The fault … is not in
our stars, but in ourselves.” *
Memories stand in my way. I am my own personal Judas
Iscariot.
Between dawn and dusk searching for remnants of luck, stuck
in no man’s land
Under a moonlit sun
Lost in traffic disgruntled and disavowed
Eyes gaze into mine deeper than the deepest
see emerging from the constraints in my veins,
crumbs from my womb sweep clean, a diamond ruby triumphs
Blinding sun breaks at the crack of dawn, mystifies soul
watcher
Desire tinged edges lost in the catacombs of fire
* Julius Ceasar
Moon tides burst with song
Stings my unnurtured heart with ruptured longings deeper
than sea ringing inconsolably
Jimmies the lock triples the false starts below the bistro
glows yellow lights glimmer
Flickr the night away dreaming fritter the morning sun
warming the ground I lie upon
Pray to the diverse universe of sounds emerge reborn from
the womb
I am
The sting hurts worse the first time I lay claim to
Cleopatra’s birthright
Scent from heaven
Love makes wrongs right
You get it or you don’t
Try harder to bite the dust emerging from my womb
Clean house, sweeps dirt from beneath the rug
hidden corners emerge bathed in dawn’s light
Aglow with merchandise to show I sweep the surface below
words running rapids
Afraid of the flow falling unbidden from lips unspoken
nerves violet loves
bright blue golden fringed butterflies dance in my eyes
Walking through the rain at daybreak, no longer feel
teardrops flowing with the rain
Flooded by memories, past difficulties, unable to eradicate
even one memory
Live through memories daily, replay in my head, I can’t deny
Memories thrive, can’t forget no matter how hard I try
Memories linger, replay day after day
Memories cling to me like worn out clothes
I have the sense to trash these memories insist, resist any
effort to throw them away
Memories return to torture me repeatedly
Lure me to decipher hidden sentiments tucked away
To lonely dark secluded places deep beneath the rubbish that
stands for anything real
I assign a name to a place tortured by time grown wise
beyond the horizon
anger seethes beneath crimes committed, I admit my guilt,
“The fault … is not in
our stars, but in ourselves.” *
Memories stand in my way. I am my own personal Judas
Iscariot.
Between dawn and dusk searching for remnants of luck, stuck
in no man’s land
Under a moonlit sun
Lost in traffic disgruntled and disavowed
Eyes gaze into mine deeper than the deepest
see emerging from the constraints in my veins,
crumbs from my womb sweep clean, a diamond ruby triumphs
Blinding sun breaks at the crack of dawn, mystifies soul
watcher
Desire tinged edges lost in the catacombs of fire
* Julius Ceasar
DAYBREAK
Cellophane moon rides high in sky
Moon tides burst with song
Stings my unnurtured heart with ruptured longings deeper
than sea ringing inconsolably
Jimmies the lock triples the false starts below the bistro
glows yellow lights glimmer
Flickr the night away dreaming fritter the morning sun
warming the ground I lie upon
Pray to the diverse universe of sounds emerge reborn from
the womb
I am
The sting hurts worse the first time I lay claim to
Cleopatra’s birthright
Scent from heaven
Love makes wrongs right
You get it or you don’t
Try harder to bite the dust emerging from my womb
Clean house, sweeps dirt from beneath the rug
hidden corners emerge bathed in dawn’s light
Aglow with merchandise to show I sweep the surface below
words running rapids
Afraid of the flow falling unbidden from lips unspoken
nerves violet loves
bright blue golden fringed butterflies dance in my eyes
Walking through the rain at daybreak, no longer feel
teardrops flowing with the rain
Flooded by memories, past difficulties, unable to eradicate
even one memory
Live through memories daily, replay in my head, I can’t deny
Memories thrive, can’t forget no matter how hard I try
Memories linger, replay day after day
Memories cling to me like worn out clothes
I have the sense to trash these memories insist, resist any
effort to throw them away
Memories return to torture me repeatedly
Lure me to decipher hidden sentiments tucked away
To lonely dark secluded places deep beneath the rubbish that
stands for anything real
I assign a name to a place tortured by time grown wise
beyond the horizon
anger seethes beneath crimes committed, I admit my guilt,
“The fault … is not in
our stars, but in ourselves.” *
Memories stand in my way. I am my own personal Judas
Iscariot.
Between dawn and dusk searching for remnants of luck, stuck
in no man’s land
Under a moonlit sun
Lost in traffic disgruntled and disavowed
Eyes gaze into mine deeper than the deepest
see emerging from the constraints in my veins,
crumbs from my womb sweep clean, a diamond ruby triumphs
Blinding sun breaks at the crack of dawn, mystifies soul
watcher
Desire tinged edges lost in the catacombs of fire
* Julius Ceasar
Moon tides burst with song
Stings my unnurtured heart with ruptured longings deeper
than sea ringing inconsolably
Jimmies the lock triples the false starts below the bistro
glows yellow lights glimmer
Flickr the night away dreaming fritter the morning sun
warming the ground I lie upon
Pray to the diverse universe of sounds emerge reborn from
the womb
I am
The sting hurts worse the first time I lay claim to
Cleopatra’s birthright
Scent from heaven
Love makes wrongs right
You get it or you don’t
Try harder to bite the dust emerging from my womb
Clean house, sweeps dirt from beneath the rug
hidden corners emerge bathed in dawn’s light
Aglow with merchandise to show I sweep the surface below
words running rapids
Afraid of the flow falling unbidden from lips unspoken
nerves violet loves
bright blue golden fringed butterflies dance in my eyes
Walking through the rain at daybreak, no longer feel
teardrops flowing with the rain
Flooded by memories, past difficulties, unable to eradicate
even one memory
Live through memories daily, replay in my head, I can’t deny
Memories thrive, can’t forget no matter how hard I try
Memories linger, replay day after day
Memories cling to me like worn out clothes
I have the sense to trash these memories insist, resist any
effort to throw them away
Memories return to torture me repeatedly
Lure me to decipher hidden sentiments tucked away
To lonely dark secluded places deep beneath the rubbish that
stands for anything real
I assign a name to a place tortured by time grown wise
beyond the horizon
anger seethes beneath crimes committed, I admit my guilt,
“The fault … is not in
our stars, but in ourselves.” *
Memories stand in my way. I am my own personal Judas
Iscariot.
Between dawn and dusk searching for remnants of luck, stuck
in no man’s land
Under a moonlit sun
Lost in traffic disgruntled and disavowed
Eyes gaze into mine deeper than the deepest
see emerging from the constraints in my veins,
crumbs from my womb sweep clean, a diamond ruby triumphs
Blinding sun breaks at the crack of dawn, mystifies soul
watcher
Desire tinged edges lost in the catacombs of fire
* Julius Ceasar
July 8, 2013
Call Me The Bedbug Warrior
I won’t let
them succeed
I’ll get them
before they get me, you’ll see.
Bell
Environmental said they’re all dead
I wonder if
it’s true
Feel them crawling
around in my hair
They say
they’re all dead
But they’re still
there in my head
Can’t get a
grip
I hire
Pestrol instead.
Their dog also
confirms, there’s no more bed bugs alive
Perhaps an
egg survives beneath the rug
I’m loath to
tear up
Movie-theatre
style carpet
Wall to wall,
an unusual pattern
Two-toned
green vines crawl between five circles
Each circle containing
a fleurs de lis
One in each
corner, eighteen inches between the four
Nine inches
to the center fleurs de lis
One in the
center
Four fleurs de lis in each corner
Repeated endlessly
Light and
dark golds, rust orange leaves, dark vibrant green,
A Kelly and
lime green vine floats between the circles
I sit here
dreaming of surfing the Internet
with my new steamy
bed partner
A hand held
Haan steamer
I feel them;
they scuttle across my neck, crawl behind my ears
The better to
sting me inject me with their venom,
Creep through
my hair, I dare not turn my head
I dare not
fall asleep
My steamy new
bed partner lies silent beside me waiting to be put to use.
The Internet said
98 percent of the human race
has tiny hair mites we can’t see
I’m sure I
feel them jumping up there in my hair somewhere
It’s very
scary
“What should
I do? Should I rip up the wall-to-wall rug?”
Joey says,
“If it makes you feel better mom, it’s ok, throw out the rug.”
“What about
the furniture? Should I throw that out too?”
“Only if it
makes you feel better Mom.
If it makes you feel safer, throw it out.”
“But you
don’t think there’s any of them left?”
“No Mom but
that’s me. You had two dogs in here last week.
You can’t hire a dog every single
week to check for bedbugs.
“It’s ok Mom,
throw out anything you want if it makes you feel better.”
He pats me tenderly on
the shoulder. Insane sanity.
His crazy mother’s really gone off the deep end
this time,
gripping sanity tightly in her fist, then splat, she’s gone.
Diatomaceous
earth sprinkled throughout the house
Sprinkled in
drawer corners and around the edges
Use a
business card to push the powder into the cracks,
Sprinkled
between the rug and walls
Sprinkled
where the old baseboard was torn up
Sprinkled
beneath the bed
Sprinkled on
top of the head board
Sprinkle soft
white powder into a take out plastic container
place each leg of the
bedframe separately i
nto a container of its own diatomaceous earth
Sprinkled in
a bag of shoes
Diatomaceous
earth slices and dices
dehydrates insects who steps through the soft white
deceptive
powder sprinkled liberally everywhere
Dreaming of
new tiles and a clean pinkish swirl beige porcelain floor
I’m sure a
porcelain floor will make me feel safe
Don’t rain on
my bedbug parade
them succeed
I’ll get them
before they get me, you’ll see.
Bell
Environmental said they’re all dead
I wonder if
it’s true
Feel them crawling
around in my hair
They say
they’re all dead
But they’re still
there in my head
Can’t get a
grip
I hire
Pestrol instead.
Their dog also
confirms, there’s no more bed bugs alive
Perhaps an
egg survives beneath the rug
I’m loath to
tear up
Movie-theatre
style carpet
Wall to wall,
an unusual pattern
Two-toned
green vines crawl between five circles
Each circle containing
a fleurs de lis
One in each
corner, eighteen inches between the four
Nine inches
to the center fleurs de lis
One in the
center
Four fleurs de lis in each corner
Repeated endlessly
Light and
dark golds, rust orange leaves, dark vibrant green,
A Kelly and
lime green vine floats between the circles
I sit here
dreaming of surfing the Internet
with my new steamy
bed partner
A hand held
Haan steamer
I feel them;
they scuttle across my neck, crawl behind my ears
The better to
sting me inject me with their venom,
Creep through
my hair, I dare not turn my head
I dare not
fall asleep
My steamy new
bed partner lies silent beside me waiting to be put to use.
The Internet said
98 percent of the human race
has tiny hair mites we can’t see
I’m sure I
feel them jumping up there in my hair somewhere
It’s very
scary
“What should
I do? Should I rip up the wall-to-wall rug?”
Joey says,
“If it makes you feel better mom, it’s ok, throw out the rug.”
“What about
the furniture? Should I throw that out too?”
“Only if it
makes you feel better Mom.
If it makes you feel safer, throw it out.”
“But you
don’t think there’s any of them left?”
“No Mom but
that’s me. You had two dogs in here last week.
You can’t hire a dog every single
week to check for bedbugs.
“It’s ok Mom,
throw out anything you want if it makes you feel better.”
He pats me tenderly on
the shoulder. Insane sanity.
His crazy mother’s really gone off the deep end
this time,
gripping sanity tightly in her fist, then splat, she’s gone.
Diatomaceous
earth sprinkled throughout the house
Sprinkled in
drawer corners and around the edges
Use a
business card to push the powder into the cracks,
Sprinkled
between the rug and walls
Sprinkled
where the old baseboard was torn up
Sprinkled
beneath the bed
Sprinkled on
top of the head board
Sprinkle soft
white powder into a take out plastic container
place each leg of the
bedframe separately i
nto a container of its own diatomaceous earth
Sprinkled in
a bag of shoes
Diatomaceous
earth slices and dices
dehydrates insects who steps through the soft white
deceptive
powder sprinkled liberally everywhere
Dreaming of
new tiles and a clean pinkish swirl beige porcelain floor
I’m sure a
porcelain floor will make me feel safe
Don’t rain on
my bedbug parade
June 23, 2013
Disappointment ...
Tired of the do nothings
Tired of people who refuse to apologize because they insist they did nothing wrong
and being right is more important than keeping a friend
Tired of people who complain I leave dental floss strands lying on their floor
but they take my bamboo wooden cutting board, bang it into
broken pieces and chop meat on it to boot,
even though I gave them a plastic one for meats
Use my table to burn cigarette scars, then strip the screws so the legs refuse to stand straight,
Take my metal file cabinet and drag it to the center of the room
and place a big plant on top so the metal rusts through
Take a rug that's not theirs and decide what it's for and where it goes
People who deny they're addicts but take too many pills
so they can sleep their lives away, avoid all responsibility
Tired of people who drink their lives away yet deny they're mentally ill
Tired of being used like an old dishrag to clean everyone's shit because they refuse to clean their own
Tired of having friends who don't make amends but drive through the center of my heart in an old jalopy giving off smoke so thick it should have never passed the emissions test, smoke so thick I can barely breathe and am losing my ability to see
I'm tired of my mind that makes me think all these thoughts forces me to realize I have no friends
All alone my heart hurts from the pain the wounds are deep healing is like a dream
I try to visualize escape to a world where friends are real
and realize I need to create a better new world
Tired of people who refuse to apologize because they insist they did nothing wrong
and being right is more important than keeping a friend
Tired of people who complain I leave dental floss strands lying on their floor
but they take my bamboo wooden cutting board, bang it into
broken pieces and chop meat on it to boot,
even though I gave them a plastic one for meats
Use my table to burn cigarette scars, then strip the screws so the legs refuse to stand straight,
Take my metal file cabinet and drag it to the center of the room
and place a big plant on top so the metal rusts through
Take a rug that's not theirs and decide what it's for and where it goes
People who deny they're addicts but take too many pills
so they can sleep their lives away, avoid all responsibility
Tired of people who drink their lives away yet deny they're mentally ill
Tired of being used like an old dishrag to clean everyone's shit because they refuse to clean their own
Tired of having friends who don't make amends but drive through the center of my heart in an old jalopy giving off smoke so thick it should have never passed the emissions test, smoke so thick I can barely breathe and am losing my ability to see
I'm tired of my mind that makes me think all these thoughts forces me to realize I have no friends
All alone my heart hurts from the pain the wounds are deep healing is like a dream
I try to visualize escape to a world where friends are real
and realize I need to create a better new world
June 10, 2013
Love-Ism Volume I: A Critical Mass and Other Poems
I am still mulling through Love-Ism Volume I: A Critical Mass and Other Poems. This is not an easy-to-read book. It is similar to a college text in that the reading is slow going - not because it is not interesting but because the content is so rich and varied and one must really have their mind ready to concentrate. You know what I mean if any of you can remember being in college or post grad school. Coorough's books are very dense with information and packed with historical details including but not limited to the history and development of the United States Government and the history and development of other governments world wide.
Coorough incorporates all this information and brings it home when he shows specific example of how particular governmental techniques and regulations travel from one leader to another and more specifically, how these techniques have been used world wide to capture audiences and create working agendas in addition to controlling the populace.
The density of information and history combined with the intensity of Coorough's emotions bring this text home. His interpretations of world events put into perspective current events and also provide an alternative for the direction of current governments worldwide. Coorough's agenda is to raise awareness to show how we (the worldwide we) can be part of creating a new world that will be sustainable for our offspring. In general people have been like puppets and in scientific studies and has been proven people are very easily manipulated to hurt one another. This has led to our current situation where we have put the planet's sustainability in danger as well as harming many species. For example, current farming practices have become a travesty where animals suffer from birth to their short death.
I strongly recommend this book and his others - especially to spread the "occupy" message and clarify the realization that our world needs change and it is overdue. If Castro could bring back coral reefs to Cuba, we can force change if we think and move together altruistically. I shudder to think about what will happen if we let things go and act like the robots we've become, just letting the world happen to us instead of participating in creating a new world meant to benefit humanity.
I strongly recommend this book and his others - especially to spread the "occupy" message and clarify the realization that our world needs change and it is overdue. If Castro could bring back coral reefs to Cuba, we can force change if we think and move together altruistically. I shudder to think about what will happen if we let things go and act like the robots we've become, just letting the world happen to us instead of participating in creating a new world meant to benefit humanity.
I very much appreciate Coorough's descriptions of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's "Bed In" as examples of how all of us can collaborate to create change.
Coorough incorporates all this information and brings it home when he shows specific example of how particular governmental techniques and regulations travel from one leader to another and more specifically, how these techniques have been used world wide to capture audiences and create working agendas in addition to controlling the populace.
The density of information and history combined with the intensity of Coorough's emotions bring this text home. His interpretations of world events put into perspective current events and also provide an alternative for the direction of current governments worldwide. Coorough's agenda is to raise awareness to show how we (the worldwide we) can be part of creating a new world that will be sustainable for our offspring. In general people have been like puppets and in scientific studies and has been proven people are very easily manipulated to hurt one another. This has led to our current situation where we have put the planet's sustainability in danger as well as harming many species. For example, current farming practices have become a travesty where animals suffer from birth to their short death.
I strongly recommend this book and his others - especially to spread the "occupy" message and clarify the realization that our world needs change and it is overdue. If Castro could bring back coral reefs to Cuba, we can force change if we think and move together altruistically. I shudder to think about what will happen if we let things go and act like the robots we've become, just letting the world happen to us instead of participating in creating a new world meant to benefit humanity.
I strongly recommend this book and his others - especially to spread the "occupy" message and clarify the realization that our world needs change and it is overdue. If Castro could bring back coral reefs to Cuba, we can force change if we think and move together altruistically. I shudder to think about what will happen if we let things go and act like the robots we've become, just letting the world happen to us instead of participating in creating a new world meant to benefit humanity.
I very much appreciate Coorough's descriptions of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's "Bed In" as examples of how all of us can collaborate to create change.
May 28, 2013
Our Fallen
I received the poem and youtube link posted below today. I considered how yesterday was Memorial Day and all our soldiers and wounded throughout the world deserve to be honored and I felt Carlos Rojas is doing a good job here of honoring his friends.
I also like Rojas' rhythm and style and feel the video really brings out his words.
Check out the link to his youtube video where Rojas is in full regala telling us his story.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_V_UOFHCAM
From Carlos Rojas Jr.(Lcpl Rojas)
I am a U.S. Marine who wrote this last year after we lost 2 Marines in Morocco.
Walking the streets of Africa,
these massacres occur so unexpected
the other night some Marines died,
never be resurrected
everyone's got a day & time,
nothing in life's perfected
their families cry,
these are the times we see life in perspective
the purpose for the hurting,
these modern day disasters
I wish that I could call it,
I feel no one would answer
prayers for the dead
but they live on
as we continue fighting
these are my brothers,
this is family, we stand as one united
for all Marines who witnessed death but just couldn't escape
may the Lord's angels give you peace, and guide you to his gates
AMEN -
Lyrical
4/12/12 Dedicated to Cpl.Kerns and Cpl.Reyes
Contact Info: Facebook.com/Lyricalpoet305 Twitter/Lyricalpoet305
Free Album Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?gah1cswamfv56sx
I also like Rojas' rhythm and style and feel the video really brings out his words.
Check out the link to his youtube video where Rojas is in full regala telling us his story.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_V_UOFHCAM
From Carlos Rojas Jr.(Lcpl Rojas)
I am a U.S. Marine who wrote this last year after we lost 2 Marines in Morocco.
Walking the streets of Africa,
these massacres occur so unexpected
the other night some Marines died,
never be resurrected
everyone's got a day & time,
nothing in life's perfected
their families cry,
these are the times we see life in perspective
the purpose for the hurting,
these modern day disasters
I wish that I could call it,
I feel no one would answer
prayers for the dead
but they live on
as we continue fighting
these are my brothers,
this is family, we stand as one united
for all Marines who witnessed death but just couldn't escape
may the Lord's angels give you peace, and guide you to his gates
AMEN -
Lyrical
4/12/12 Dedicated to Cpl.Kerns and Cpl.Reyes
Contact Info: Facebook.com/Lyricalpoet305 Twitter/Lyricalpoet305
Free Album Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?gah1cswamfv56sx
May 6, 2013
I Am What I Am (Trailer) -Mark Morrison
Mark Morrison (@_markmorrison) - I Am What I Am (Trailer)
VIDEO: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jfapDcApR8
Mark Morrison is preparing to release his first official single in seven years, titled “I Am What I Am”. A trailer to the music video is now available on YouTube.
The ‘King of British R&B’ is set to release his third studio album soon, also entitled ‘I Am What I Am’, which is expected to feature guests such as Trae Tha Truth, Trina, DMX, and Crooked I of Slaughterhouse. His multi-platinum debut album 'Return of the Mack' sold over 3 million albums worldwide.
One of the most talked about artists, that single-handedly pioneered the UK R&B movement of the 90’s is now back to reclaim his title. The Mack is Back!
