Joy Leftow's Blog, page 23

CRAZY BRING IN THE NEW YEARS RANT

I live in a dream world reality a strange illusion I
discover and uncover the truth. I rarely subscribe to common faith. The truth
is harder to see than a diamond. I take the diamond to the jeweler who says, “This
diamond has occlusions which are usually a sign the diamond is real –
occlusions can only be seen by microscope. This color is tinted blue, unusual
in a diamond this size with so many occlusions. I suggest we send it out to get
tested – it just looks too perfect to be true."




In hope and I vain I wait to hear the diamond is real but am
told it's a well made fake, just like my reality while I keep performing in good
faith and do the unintended not seeing things only exist in my head. Strangely,
they remain a clear distant past in my memory – and this memory lasts in my
head by circumstances beyond my control. As my dreams unfold and take hold I
discover reality is not what I thought it was. History repeats it self again
and again and still IT IS NOT enough. Learning the truth is never enough if you
refuse to change the course of your life. I sit and struggle with concepts as
life unfolds my untold dream takes hold. I struggle to stay tight remain true
to the light and the cause. There’s another global warming rooting in my head causing
a major tidal wave and reality storms keep smacking me in the face as I try to
keep the story straight. Chin up and keep forth in the wind.




This country is no longer what it set out to be fair and equal
are only concepts applied to certain certified events by a moneyed society with
privatized armed forces. Our country is not what it set out to be controlled by
mercenaries.




I am not free will not be set free, am a product of society
calmed by money no longer there I fare better than those worse off than me.




When Roosevelt was president we didn’t suffer from so much
damn debt that has trickled down to a global economy still based on supporting
wars to ignite a burgeoning economy and can’t keep up with the rapidly
reproducing human rate.




Get a certificate to reproduce or join our dying planet. I
am looking for peace to replace the water and divide it up fairly for all. WE
NEED TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR SO MANY RAPIDLY DECLINING SPECIES BEGINNING
WITH THE CORAL IN THE OCEAN, WE NEED TO PROTECT REEFS.




Is it any wonder I can’t see beyond the bridge of my nose
and my glasses are always in a fog so I never see clearly. I see what I want to
see – it’s been proven again and again.




I can see clearly now, the gates to heaven are here on earth.

My brethren, think and breathe peace.  Join the vision of great artists and leaders
everywhere to create a common place within our hearts where peace and the
greater good take priority. Peace seeps from our pores to infect humanity and will
spread to distant corners of the globe. Everyone partakes peace.

I can see clearly now. A common chore, a call to live our lives
like a prayer to peace- to inspire peace to grow with our words and thoughts to
join human race raise the bar.




Peace!!!

I DENY IT

I am not an addict; I can stop anytime I want to

Yes I can, I can stop anytime I want to

I just haven’t felt the need to stop

What ‘s so important for me to do now that I finally free 5
minutes from my curfew

Momentarily abandon myself to my dreams

Give myself permission to leave myself behind left out of it
again

Yeah, really, I can stop anytime I want to

You ask why I don’t stop if I say I can

Oh O.K., I confess, I did do it again but I didn’t mean to

I know I said I wouldn’t do it again; I tried not to do it, but
couldn’t stop myself

the urge overwhelmed me and it did me

I was powerless, I did it again

I’m sorry I want you to

Share your secrets too

You’re not perfect

No more throwing stones at me

Com’on, confess your sins

The sins everyone else said you shouldn’t do though to you
it felt right at the moment when you tried it on for size

I remember your hands got dirty too that time,

you can’t wash away the sins

I saw you pee you walked away didn’t wash your hands

You stood observing.

My defense is my skin is so dry the skin turned ash,

unnourished white skin flaking off my hands

Skin Slowly Peeling
to shreds,

before It’s time the skin is dead, skin slowly peeling away

Ready or not, here I come. Red light green light, one two
three

Is that how many chances I get to absorb the flow of the ideas

urges march day and night, the weight burdens me, early dawn

urges obsess me, possess me, I ignore them a day or two then
they take me by force

I declare a truce. Urges have a hold on me won’t let go of
me

Separate men from woman, because we know once those urges
take hold, it overwhelms Together they can’t control overt urges so they cover
up

Pretend there’s no drive

Woman’s hair her one true natural beauty

A set up from the start I pull another stinky fart just
thinking about it

Force myself to think peace so the word war will fall into
disuse we will all refuse to fight

No more abuse by governments everywhere will have peace-oriented
leaders

I dream of peace, a word war floats by a banana submarine
looking for oil

Knowledge and power

Peace everlasting.

Meditate the days away instead of lustily fucking following my
instincts, my addiction.

It’s easier do what presents than battle in a hot windy
desert where you can’t see the only water is an illusion.

Addictions plague me.

It takes only one person’s fart to stink up the whole room
how to clean out the smell if there’s no access to air

 the hole in the room
follow the white rabbit and give in

Doctor diagnoses post-traumatic stress syndrome

Another rant a poetic chant a prayer to set the universe to
rhythm  

Another beat

ANOTHER DIVERSION

I give in give in give in give in give in give in give in

In Mourning ...

Felix died, the son of my father and my ex-husband. No one told us. No one called. We don't know where his body is buried.



Saturday I performed at the Morris Jumel Mansion with Dubblex and Demetrius Daniels. My son called me. An old friend called him to report his father had died. I spent the rest of the day in prayer and solitude, some of it with my son. We lit a candle and spoke about him, recounting memories. My son told me how when he was about 6 years old, his father visited him at my father's apartment. I was in school. My dad was in the kitchen and he noticed things had gotten very quiet so he went to see why. Joey was taking apart the TV and removing things while Felix sat laughing and smiling. That would be him.



Joey was good at that. I remember once when he was about 9 or 10 months old I had a shoelace that I used for my keys. I quadrupled the string, put my keys in the loop and tied a double knot at the end. It was tight too. I had no clue how he did it but I had been in the kitchen making dinner and when I came out Joey had the string and was retying it the same way it had been with the keys. I kept the string and still have it in my drawer till this day. I couldn't bear to throw it out.



We talked about Felix's craziness and retold old stories about him sitting at my kitchen table watching the candle slowly burn down. Strange that he died directly after Yom Kipper ended. Over the last year I often thought I'd see him soon. I'd been thinking about it for the past year a lot. It's not easy to find him though. Felix owns land in several places and he travels around the island visiting different people. Felix has no house either. Last time we went to see him, we had to call several people in his family before he heard we were there and  came to us. It took 2 days to make contact. After we found him we drove for 2 hours and left the rental when the road ended. Then we got out and hiked for over 2 1/2 hours. We finally made it to a little one room wooden shack nestled in the woods. It was small and basically one room. There was a table and 2 chairs and wooden shelves. It was very neat and clean. I could see a bed in the back with a dresser. That's all there was. Felix said he had a few places like this. I wrote a poem back in 97 about this visit after we returned home.



link to the poem:



Now the opportunity to ever see him again has passed for my son and I. I had hoped to see him before I die. I have to accept I'll never see him again in life. I miss him knowing he's no longer on the planet.













Joey less than 24 hours old.





Above in Santo Domingo City sitting in a park.



Felix's beautiful Mom, Carmen.











 Felix's mom's house. Eduardo, his mom, Dad and Sister Dolores with me.



 Beautiful house.



Nena's farm



Felix was handsome ...



Beautiful hair ... beautiful body



Felix, like me, loved cats too. We took this cat to Santo Domingo with us on a visit. Felix wanted me to see his aunt's farm so we left Frisky with his mom. When we returned to his mom's house she greeted us crying. She told us a jealous neighbor fed Frisky poisoned meat.









 These photos were taken in a rented house in Hackensack, Minnesota, where Joey was born. The photo above he is one month old. The one below he is 3 months old and already standing. Look at his proud father!



















On his aunt Nena's farm. That's me, always finding stray animals.

Lost Love

Ain’t no sun up in my sky today

Rain keeps falling on my head

I got the blues so bad I’m dancing with fire

in the hell of
night



Promises and dreams not in sight

No delight in life

a bout in myself in an endless fight

in a world where nothing’s right

no sun up in my sky too down to cry

waiting on motivation that doesn’t come

I lay awake waiting for my lover to come on home

Frustrations growing

waiting on my lover makes me quirky that way

Comes sneaking through the bedroom door in the dead of night

The bed bathed in moonlight

Soft red hair brushes against my shoulder

Our promises of together forever have grown older

Each day finds us colder

As she lies down beside me

My eyes closed pretending I’m asleep

I awake to an empty bed

With words left unsaid

sadness that never ends

Never thought we’d end that way

Rain tapping on the window pane

left me on a rainy day

She called later that day said someone was waiting on her

someone easier to take, someone older more mature

someone who knew who knew how to play the game of love

standing in the rain left lonesome each day hoping the rain
will go away

my tears blending with the rain

sun’s gone away and rains keep coming everyday

Got to go sometime...

Death hits on the fritz, at my wit’s end,

Same way we’re birthed same way death bangs on the door

In a fleeting solitary moment gone in a blitz

A spin on humanity why we enjoy comedy folklore

Right next door, death knocked on the door

I hear the wife’s wails late that night way past midnight

I let myself in and sat for a while, the police were still
there

He lay down after dinner, about 5 p.m., said he needed a nap

And in a snap he was gone gone, gone! Gone baby gone

Early that same morning I heard him vacuuming as I

watched the sun rise against a pink damask sky

No choice when death comes uninvited banging down our door

Write or wrong we’re in this together son

I’m my brother’s keeper but not for long

I see his son Luis is despondent

I say, “I’m sorry for your loss Luis.

He responds, “My father did all that he could to stay
healthy,

He kept a good routine, ate breakfast at 5 a.m

went to the Big Gym everyday to lift weights at 6 a.m.,

Everyday he ate dinner at 4 p.m., good healthy food too,

rice and beans, aguacate and Mama made him steak everyday

all that he did and what good did it do him, he’s still dead

all that hard work for nothing.”

Luis has learned a new lesson

A sudden burst of knowledge

Death stalks us all

If you believe in an afterlife or not

I’ll come see you at 3 a.m. night after next

Stomp 3 times and you’ll smell me

There at your side ready at the crack of a whip

Bam your time’s up now son ready or not

There you go and the people who love us are left behind wailing


Wailing for those who left us behind

Wailing for those who left us behind

Death hits the spot, ready or not.

It’s ok I said, I've been there too

I understand where you’re
coming from

Just show me the dotted
line and

I’ll be ready to sign

I promise I’ll make no
demands

For alimony or child
support

My life’s worth more than
you could ever pay

The gun trained on my face

I heard the click

And saw him pull the
trigger back

Imagine the surprise on his
face when we

Still stood eye to
eye 

the bullet jammed in the
chamber

My life handed to me on a
silver 

platter that day I
understand now

But for the mercy of
God 

I’d be dead not only broke

Lucky not to succumb to a
bullet that day

I said, “Show me that
dotted line 

I know when it’s time to
sign and give in

Because I’ll never get
nothing from you 

except a hard way to go

You never liked sharing
anyway 

so I’m glad to let you know

I’m glad to see you go

I want you to know 

I’m glad you know 

I don’t need you to have my
own

I had my own before you
were born

no - please don’t
interrupt," I said

holding up my open palm,

"You misunderstand.

I said it's ok. Go with
your government job 

and all your big benefits.

It’s ok if you refuse to
share.

I swear I don’t care. 

I’ll sign it all away to
you

as long as you let me go my
own way.

I'll sign that dotted
line, 

I swear I will!

I’m not giving in to death
yet – 

it’s premature to date.

Please don’t make me 

leave my son motherless

Hand me a pen 

I’m willing ready and able
to bend

I’ll sign on that dotted
line

I absolve you from all your
future debts to me

Please let me go by the
grace of God

Thank God I’m not
dead 

Here I go, I got a pen in
my hand 

I’m ready to sign on that
dotted line.”

The surprise registered in
your lifted brows

as you pulled the trigger

and stared me dead in the
eye

no remorse for what you
planned to do

An eye for an eye you
quoted 

so bang you’re dead gone in
the wink 

of an eye and you winked at
me 

we thought it was for one
last time

certainly for me I thought
this is the last wink I’ll ever see

Pulled the trigger in the
blink of an eye

A gleeful smile on your “no
mercy for the bitch face”

A New York City minute
changes life

when you saw no bullet had
emerged from the chamber

no bullet came clambering
through 

no bullet went through me
and 

by the mercy of God I still
stand here before thee

So let me be me and I’ll
allow you to be free of me

Free from all my demands
you could no longer stand 

that made you be so cruel
to me

Now I’m ready to sign on
the dotted line as long as you’ll let me be

Yes I’m ready to sing
there’s a song in my heart

Glory Hallelujah I'm so
glad I survived

I'm so blessed to be alive

money ain’t mean nothing to
me I’ll give it all up to stay alive

I got a song in my heart so
glad to be alive

Big Bad Corn - graphic by Sarah Wenger

Big Bad Corn

Subsidized corn grown for fossil fuel alternative has turned out to be inefficient source of fuel. Not only that, ethanol from corn actually increases the greenhouse gases in the atmosphere at a higher rate than gasoline. Yet, the U.S. pays $10 to $30 billion dollars each years in farm subsidies to raise even more of it, with no clear benefit to consumers.

Will It Ever Stop

Everyone complains when it rains. Rain tantalizes,

fills me with anticipation and gratification,

recognition that redemption is on the horizon.

My soul burns with fire

hit with a live wire until

goose bumps rise on my skin

Wait and watch diamond sparkles water curtains fall

from a vivid bright lit up silver sky

iridescent gray shaded clouds move high

Sitting in a soft luminous green velour parsons chair

watching through my plate glass window

from my 16th floor perch

Gazing through the sheets of rain

I am transposed to a different time,

Contemplation of gains or losses,

how much garbage can I toss or give away

find people to buy what I can no longer use

I compose a poem and string words along

wonder if I’ll truly belong anywhere or go anyplace ever again

No place to call my own, no home no

Love left me alone again soul searching for diversion

I enter seclusion and decide the rain is nothing but a mist

and the sun has won out

It’s time to get out of the house once more

Tripping The Light Psychosis

I’m going to start writing
narrative poetry again because they say they don’t understand my poetry
anymore, I’m not writing poems, I’m writing songs. People rarely get
me because I’m always so off tune. I heard a few new stories about myself
today, so many people telling stories. I wonder why so many stories are untrue
and always unkind.




My neighbor said, “Hey let
me share what people are saying about you. Many people living here say you’re
very unstable like Ms. Humble on two says this is true about you. I try to
explain you’re just a little different, that your mind is very good and it’s
not true you’re unstable. I tell them you worked hard all your life so you can
collect a pension and how could they think someone unstable could think that
one through. I know though it took a lot of planning and calculation they don’t
want to hear it.




Their minds are already
made up, “Unstable,” you’re labeled. They say you’re really not very sane; you
don’t do things the right way. I point out that you’ve been able to thrive, you
calculate interventions, and you’re savvy to the system you survived. They see
how colorful you are so they judge you by the colors you wear and are blind to
your capability. They don’t see you know how to face adversity. They define you
as flighty.




They judge you by their own
veracity. They can’t see who you really are.




I am tired of this same old
story. Well, better stop telling them then I say to my supposed friend. They
can’t hear if they refuse to listen.




I’ll always be an outcast.
What can I do? I keep making amends and trying to make new friends.




Leave me alone to sing my
blues, tone deaf and off tune, alone, singing my blues.

BODY OF EVIDENCE

Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean my fears aren’t real

Fears speak in foreign languages in dark places of my soul

They confide in me tell me where I’ve been and where I’ll go

Beyond my comprehension

Cognizance jells constancy with perceptions and prehension.

In the starry night the sun set forth with glee

Misconceived, under the impression

the sun was there to see

Seen only in one’s heart enjoying ministrations of beauty

Duped by impulsivity trying to capture eternity

Existence of time proceeds, a moment, a year, a decade,

years pass and we’re still here.

Pass like a train in the night.

Several generations away nothing’s left but the mist.

Everything in its time, beginning and end,

true love bereft
by death. 

Games played to be won - there are no rules to make the
world spin

Dancing in delight in the wan moonlight waiting for a
generation of change

to make its way into the light

Beside me stand Jmi, Janis, Billie, Bob Marley, and John F. Kennedy
before they were born

We can’t find the light to see the way out of a bad dream a
nightmare in reality

Relativity exists the nightmare is as real as the window I
gaze through at midnight

Looking for a light a sign that everything’s going to be
alright

What is true is a lie

Searching for truth

Secrets overwhelm us

Secrets lie hidden beneath the earth still warm with the
regrets of my piss

I have no more left inside that was a lie I scream as my
entrails are pulled out

Steam engine losing control seamlessly riding the track

Meant for dancing then changing course before making that last
turn

One turn after another wondering what choices were right

What else should we have done? Did we leave any any secret unturned?

Needing release was it left ignored to rot to die with our
bodies

An epiphany of infinity a chronological weighing of events adds
up to peanuts

Imminence of ends finds not one of us survive forever
acceptance of the next rain

Contrives a storm a demise of quintessential gains in a new
sunrise