The eye in my sky is crying
The eye in my sky is crying
See my fears roll down the street
Tears allayed by stares in space
A cell phone in hand, no dial tone, a blues band commands my adrenal glands
Understand it’s my wedding band, not a new brand of incense,
I take a firm stand on a crash land course stuck in the meadowlands of York
Passion fruit seeps from my sweat glands
Swerving into oblivion on the freeway, an alien shaman ~ that’s me
An alligator devoured my right hand – Now I have 2 left feet left
Beauty is nothing but a backdrop for the blues
We all want beauty peace a little food and empathy
I keep trying and failing to decompartmentalize; an exemplary fit
Lost my wit – cut it out stupid twit see what’s writ do as befits,
I observe others fare better
The eye in my sky reflects humanity’s tears their fears that life can’t be any better or go anywhere except to all one place eventually
Do you want to be easily forgot, your family there
A score or two more no one will know you
Damn give your shell to charity
No formaldehyde either, please.
I use the excuse I’m Jewish; bury me green please
I keep saying son it will pass you by before we come noon to sun
Is this how you want to spend your last day
My man loves his drugs
Almost as much or more than me
He gets them easily supercalifragilisticexpialidociouslly,
Tons of prescriptions legally
His drugs do him right
Momentarily maniacal he says he’s feelin’ so tight
I see him in a new light struggling to write
Doctrinally following clinical struggles, a mix of Geodon, Ambien Lamogine,
To name a few - some are noxious others only for allergies
Billy Jean’s not his lover; enervated after meds
no more energy when he’s through throw some synergy into the fray
Walking up Bombay Broadway
Brings me back to tears rolling down the street
I refuse to admit defeat repeat it all again and again
The eye in my sky is crying
- Joy Leftow
(featured in the poetry forum 09.08.09)
Bluetry Comes Full Circle
I’ve got the blues real bad flowing from my heart to my hands
My mind feels my heart sing misty blue for you
Heartstrings pull the red river roves of my mind stills
Turns chill as the weather
the trill of the river’s wake
I am here waiting for you to come on home, just come on home
Attached like twins - umbilical cord traveling in space right alongside death,
death and life - 2 ends of the same string.
Fate, energy, beyond a memory, the stars, the moon, some stars make it some don’t, some have to fake it and still can’t make it, some of us have it and never make it from the bottom to the top It’s all in my head I assure you my Bluetry won’t cure you for sure if you’re poor demure obscure, secure or insecure and you got the blues come on and wail with me, baby
You could slow your demise.
All the voices in my head tread lightly the pain is great I got the blues on download in my psyche, I’m gonna put it on pause take a breath let the light on through
The darkened drapes covering my universe.
My daddy said I was tone deaf, throw that in reverse.
Capitalize on this crazy bluetry ~ sing Nina Simone off key for you
Like a flower waiting to bloom; Like a light bulb in a dark room
I’m here waiting for you to come on home, and turn me on
Living the blues in the intimate language raising the decibel level for interpole,
Internet language – you misheard - dig out the earwax.
You remind me of my x-girlfriend he continues on a roll of faith– she’s in love with her own voice too. I guess we have interesting voices I said to defend us. Don’t know if he heard he’s busy feeling his own world. I remind him of a past love. He reported recorded ex gf thinks he’s crazy because he follows me on the internet all the way from India. Imaginary Legends, I can’t help it. It’s outta focus. I can’t imagine -Time gone, nothing matters anymore. Sex, whatever you need, free from fee on the Internet, no lies, all tried and true.
A constant ache, I ain’t as pretty as I used to be. If only I hadn’t put on all that we8. You say don’t worry, it’s all transitory anyway, I’m waiting for someone - show me the way, on the other end, I’m not myopic – I can’t see that far, I’m water, a Pisces, I shape shift into form then when I understand them - I become more a part of who I am I am I am
Who’s crazy here? You say I’m the prisoner. I say it’s you. History sees the oppressor oppressed by oppressee. Let me break it down. You’re powerful. I got the balls to defy you – you’re no different than me. We got the same wires trapped beneath the dresser. I’m mother earth confessor, my ribs made this nation, I got the sensation to feel you I do. My ribs crush concrete – I perspire with desire light money rains right outside the window my rainbow manifests. Get outta my way I’ma hit the sky today, it’s my time to get me some, you hear me son.
I’m Violet– a wild mad swirl of a girl inside my heart design, grabbed this for a new poetry line. I never refuse a gift of words I can use. Hey isn’t that a line from a poem? If not I’ll make it one. Violet coming at ya’ - from the Heights, born and raised here -so get down with me tonight, cause we’re all good.
- Joy Leftow
(added 09.08.09)
Get That Moolah
I hear the blues blaring in my head keeping time with the rhythmic beating of my heart
He says, you hammer away like a woodpecker at a tree I say why would I have to be
Mr. and Mrs. Perfect writing off into the sunset
Beset with other concerns can't keep up with the jet set; let me get a taste of java wet from the shower – like frost you turn the sweetest flower to dust
I live on a different planet ~ the moon of the desert sun
Pull out your clarinet and riff me some of them blues baby
Forget about fretting no sweat baby no job
You ain’t likely to get that little corvette
It’s money that’s what I want
They keep telling me the best things in life are free
But you can save that shit for the birds and bees
Throw me some money that’s what I want, a lotta money
Show me some affirmation for my saturation in my individuation; my infatuation is my collusion with occlusion the entire scenario’s a big illusion, stop your accusations, I’m into sanitation – clean this shit up I say!
Give me some antibiotic to cure me from my anti-bureaucratic ways ~ Your antagonistic acidic mean way is what made me leave you in the first plays – your acerbic reaction, you live in a theater play – you don’t give a fuck as you stay stuck in cliché mode lost in dismay -
your figure outlined in the doorway – you think my souls a fucking driveway,
I’m familiar with your dossier
I sit and crochet another dread cap dreaming about that chalet made from stone and glass
Rolling meadows and sassafras – leave your morose ass behind while you seek a bypass
I could have it all if I only had some money
Did you hear what I said? That’s what I want Gimmee money
Your loving never gave me much of a thrill but it was useful to help pay my bills
I want some money that’s what I want, I know that money don’t get you everything it’s true
What it don’t get I can’t use that’s part of why I got these woodpecker blues
Now give me money that’s what I want
My life’s gone astray, I try to stay blasé’ hooray for me I’m gonna make some headway and it’s not all heresy – give me a little leeway I’ll show you some mayday
A floodway filled to the brim with resentment, I’m searching for a little contentment
a presentment that money’s the answer to my emancipation proclamation
your abasement antedated my abandonment, it’s no accident, I created a new precedence
and returned to my former craziness
I sing my money blues to you today; share the brilliant broadcast that money’s on its way
Money can’t buy you everything it’s true but what it can’t buy I can’t use
So give me money it’s what I want, Gimmee money – lots of money
Gimmee some money to cure these woodpecker blues
I’m not being greedy Gimmee money, that’s what I want
- Joy Leftow
(added 09.08.09)
Billie Blues Part 5
Consumerism’s got the best of me in spite of my fighting so hard to maintain the good thinks in life. I keep fighting a losing battle. I want to believe the best things in life are free but I get stopped in my tracks.
Buy buy buy they implore, while I have nothing left to buy with except very extended credit debts. I’m outta cash supply, debts mount easily. Buy, buy, buy, come read poetry. Buy a glass of wine. You can’t sit there and read. You’ve got to pay your dues too. Don’t forget the entrance fee. Cough it up.
Tons of paper discarded daily senselessly. No one could be so sad. Trees ask me to tell them why they’re born to be discarded they wail about their senseless lot, they live to be - they ask me if I know why it’s like this, what’s all this suffering for? I cry. I cry.
Lights on in every room whether you’re home or not to keep the burglars away. In Harlem Mexicans crowded 3 families to each apartment while we pay taxes to build another Yankee Stadium right next to the one already there. The rich pay more for private boxes while Mexicans live in NYC barracks, 20 in a 3 room apt, barely able to pay the rent. Please I beg you give the poor some of my taxes instead I plead. They turn a deaf ear. Please, please?
I sit in my room looking out at the rain, no one could be so sad. Gloom everywhere, I sit and I fear, I don’t know what the world is coming to.
Kill canned hunts. WTF, what kind of concept kills caged animals for a few dollars from the rich? I can’t wait. I want to kill hunters; torture them watch life slowly drain from them, their heads lolling to one side. I place their head on my lap. Take a pic too, like they do to the lioness bleeding from her mouth, trying to feed her cubs behind the fence, teats full of milk. Make them like quarry, my pray, another trophy.
You can’t hide from the ugliness I try to hide I do, I do. I can’t take much more.
I sit in my chair filled
Filled with despair.
No one could be so sad.
gloom everywhere, I sit and I stare. What’s the state of the universe? Is there anybody out there?
The ugliness all a glow, picture show for family. Bring up your moohlah! We got yours here. Worse than Sodom & Gomorrah. My soul’s for sale. Name your price! Sold to the devil at the crossroads!
This revolution will not be televised; will not put the shine back on your teeth. Civil rights gone, lives tapped into by government, someone’s in control somewhere. Not me, hey, I’m all alone in here waiting for the pain to go away. I sit in my chair full of despair, no one could be this sad.
I cry to trees. They hear my pleas. No one else does.
Please! Please. Is there anybody out there?
- Joy Leftow
(featured in the poetry forum 03.25.09)
Billie Blues Dog Rescue #6
Billie’s blues on my mind tonight
I’ve morphed into Billie singing my blues to her blues we are one together one
Your protestations sink into my instrumentals
Everything’s easy to get on the Internet; you can get whatever you want to.
I’m a fool to want you, for heaven’s sake why am I in love, here’s a chance fall in love.
I race up the stairs to face closing doors #1 train, elevated. A second too late. For God’s sake, my breath jagged, voice barely whispers on exhale. A golden red-nosed puppy stands before me, jumps on the bench next to DubbleX. Eye to eye, dilemmas & sadness everywhere.
Dubblex says forget the train roars up the watches drama ensues. The dog shaking, wet & wary furry pretty fur seeking solace and warmth. Train pulls in dog runs for the open doors, crevice between the platform & train. I see him go under. I grab him by the flesh on his neck; pull him away from the closing door. Another moment stolen from death. The pup whines, returns to the bench. My heart skips a Billie holiday beat.
This revolution will not be televised it will not put the shine back on your teeth. How bout the belt from my bag - I greedily grab it. Pup accepts collar attempts to climb into my arms again.
Kneel down Johnny, heel, his haunches pressed to my thighs, crouched beside him, clinches the blended holiness of earth and sky. Pressed to my chest, his tongue sweeps my neck. Paws bleeding raw - ice & sleet on the pavement.
Let’s agree to be in love like a melody. Wet white snow falling huge flakes drop on my face. I can’t go where I want to.
Money you’ve got lots of friends crowding right your door,
but when you’re gone and nothing’s left, they don’t come round no more.
I want to go back when things were changing. Now things are suspended or turning backwards. I don't understand. Race for faith, blood bath, Kent State massacre, more prejudice now then before.
Baby pit follows me whining. I bend to examine torn ragged paws, bloodied from standing in deep salted snow, blizzards outside the station. He covers me with kisses, dutifully remains still a second then jumps on my chest. Here, boy, Here. I crouch down he throws himself in my arms shaking.
Downstairs the token booth clerk says cops are on their way. My heart booms, a gut reaction, not my future. I hold red nose with my make shift collar. He pulls me he’s strong, his attention span like a child’s eye caught by mischief, his shaking visible to everyone. Cops show up, act afraid even when they see him sucking my face. The sgt arrives & doesn’t know what to do. Finally a cage from the station arrives. I take charge, tell them how to put him in there away from my caring arms.
I’m a fool to want you. A red nosed pit bull with tail & ears intact. Will they find a home for him? My heart sings collateral let freedom ring, life on a hinge.
- Joy Leftow
(added 03.25.09)
Bluetry Coming Full Circle I Smell Smoke
I'm blown away in the smoke of my mind created by the smoke of the eye mind of your mind
I'm gonna take a sip of that southern smoked cooking, finger lickin' chickin charcoal broiled smoke embers rising from ashes I'll meet you there after I get me some smoked salmon mr brant, i love me some smoke dreams, with perfect seams, flawless rising in silver swirls
Frenetic – full of poetic madness I arise out of smoke slowly rising flowing from discarded disregarded embers of burned words into mad repetitive self perpetuating silver swirls.
My bluetry emerges at that speak-easy softly lit smoky lounge on the left where the mood is set with red and orange burning embers candle lights giving off smoke rising in silver swirls.
The crowd inhales my words and exhales patchouli oil scent silver swirls of smoke rising.
Wow, I’m on a roll – jelly-roll - my bluetry spell has taken its toll, let the good times roll, and forget about sorrow or tomorrow, think about today. I'm too busy, come tomorrow there's a lot more networking to do, lost in a series of masquerades, delusions to who I am allusions and illusions - let er rip for old times sake daddy sing me those blues tonight!
Under the magnolia tree I fell skinned my knee, the sky ripped open clouds burst and the street went up in smoke I thought I must’ve toked some real good stuff because next thing I knew whole city was up in smoke and I was with a chartered band going nowhere fast but an open wound read my prayers going somewhere those blues those blues were wailing, the trombone feels my blow as my words flow to slow the utterance of my soul, the whole world is up in smoke unless you stop try the tracks we’re on. I’m sorry I gotta move on – all this smoke is getting in the way of my living.
Living aggrieved in poetic frenzy- I give my life away up in smoke going once twice sold, I can’t capitulate capitalize civilize cooperate encapsulate, insulate any more, just let go let the good times roll you can’t always get what you want and if you try sometimes you may just find what you need and so lady smoke had her way with me, she got to me finally in my ever evolution I keep searching for solutions.
I just need someone to love, fit me like a glove, turn down that candle now it’s giving off too much smoke I can’t inhale, I wanna make some love now, and play those blues in the background while I wait put my life on hold sit here waiting for you to get your shit together and taken aback by constellation of fate I’ll read the emancipation proclamation to see if I understand you I’m a jew you know and they been trying to eliminate jews a long time from the main stream
Keep all us quiet with our little asses fighting each other to keep our masses down, we stay redundant reducible to molasses while the conspiracy roars in my ears we keep fighting one another instead of taking their asses down a notch or two I’m so blue I can’t breathe. All that smoke – the whole world is up in smoke, not a joke, up in smoke.
- Joy Leftow
(featured in the poetry forum 03.18.09)
SPREADING WILDCAT FIRE
Caught on fire ~ sizzle with desire
Cause havoc when I prance across city streets
Barely escape slaughter as I suddenly appear out of nowhere,
the sun gleaming in my hair
You barely miss me as I spin past your fender
You smile and wave goodbye and are glad for I
Suspend the silver gloom around you
Momentarily the sunshine of my heartbeats
Scarlet on top purple beneath, my true colors
For you I throw in some sunset red
I tattoo myself on you
Winged fairy of time
Imprinted on your soul & memory I raise your energy
The twitter stops
Nervous laughter, I speak my first line
Only fool falls asunder
Lightening strikes twice
And Jill came tumbling after Jack fell down
It's beyond the fruits of my labor
She probably meant to save him
Either that or she wanted his crown
I surrender…
I learn to connect to unconnected to survive to live
In ways I couldn’t see how to before this
- Joy Leftow
(added 03.03.09)
ANOTHER ROUND MORE: PLEAS FOR THE PLANET BLUES PART 4
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click here to see a clip of Joy performing this poem on YouTube |
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I am warm in here. Out there it’s 20 degrees with a northeasterly wind. I don’t care except that the trees are confused. They can’t decide whether it’s time to wither down & go bare or should they buds. They talk to me and ask me but I say I don’t know. Cause, yo, it’s so crazy out here. You know, crazy for everyone, not just crazy for a sister but crazy for a tree. Al Gore says it’s global warming moving at a faster rate than presupposed before and the naysayers in the crowd out here argue this validity. I don’t know who to believe. Yesterday was 50 degrees. Today it’s snowing violently violet with a strong breeze. I can barely see through the thick curtain of white wet snow relentlessly cascading down outside. 50 degrees yesterday, yo sister, yo brother, yo…
What’s it to you if I dream away my solitude? Write poetry in my spare time. Spare time that used to be 1 minute is now 2. I don’t have time to work a regular gig. I’m too busy writing poetry and have too many other things to do.
In my solitude you haunt me
With dreadful ease
Of days gone by
As I stroll past, I hear the trees say they don’t know what to think but should I care? I return inside where it’s warm from the glow produced by oil & coal from the furnace. I don’t need to know what’s causing this interruption of flow of service on my network. I keep telling others to listen to reason, use all your resources to power the nation. Power the Mojave Desert with miles & miles of solar panels and we’ll all be warmed free for life. There’ll be very little strife I promise. The economy will be trite without these services sold to the hilt, but we’ll all have our lights and warmth. Our services will be free if you’ll only please see what I see and power the Mojave desert with miles and miles of solar panels please please.
I hear cries from everywhere world wide, voices echoed & etched in the wind of tides,
Them that’s got shall get
Them that’s not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child that’s got his own
That’s got his own
You are so in love with you I see, but then who wouldn't be?
What is it with all the beautiful artists always taking self-portraits? Good self-esteem I guess?
Let kaleidoscope wings help my spirit soar, I want more, to fly away to exotic faraway shores where no one knows me where I can seek evolution and solutions, maybe even start a revolution.
- Joy Leftow
(featured in the poetry forum 03.03.09)
SINGING BILLIE’S BLUES BY ME, PART III
I implore you look outside the plate window. See how the wind whips the sky. I hear its wail above city sounds way up here in my 16th floor prison here in the Heights. I implore you free me from my tears have become the storm outside. Hear me wail, your other half – We are one, you know us well. Watch me flail, I can’t find a rail to hold onto. I don’t want to fall, but it’s slippery out here. Give me your hand to hold to cross the space.
My fingers ice, froze near the window where I continue to type absorbed in my hype about reality. Nice stories neatly told and packaged for your delight, passed to and fro. I cast my spell; create my own heaven & hell, my well of desire bursting forth.
My family gave me up for lent. Is that the answer or the end? Am I worth more now or less? Where to explore next, I remain sure in my search, I’m seeking answers with leaps of faith, I promise I am I am.
In my solitude
You haunt me
With memories
Of days gone by
4 days in a row I refuse to leave my abode. I can’t go, I should go to the gym, and won’t. I refuse to agree I’m depressed too not just dubblex. I don’t give in to my own reality, the fatality. He’s too old for me with circumspect dark moods. My youthful vision revives him, gives him sight again. All trite and true, not right, not poetry, I swear, reality I swear.
I sit in my chair
And filled with despair
There’s no one could be so sad
With gloom everywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that Ill soon go mad
I implore you stay here
Ahh - a golden glimmer of god finally shines through my frozen world of youthful delight. I see the sun, the truth you held forth for me to see. The sky parts open to expose a bright silver streak of light, the wind so strong it sounds like thunder in my lungs. I want to explore you & forget reality. Let’s talk poetry instead.
The galaxy of my heart swoons for paradise in lost expressions & protestations of love. My blue teardrops tenderly drip down your face. Your faith shadows mine. I bend to kiss your lips like blackberry wine the kiss drips from my lips. None of this is metaphor the wind screams in my face; this is reality. My life left undone. Get a new life tomorrow whispers the wind accompanies my heart returns to the blues in lieu of deed. I sigh with relief though the frustrated wind blows relentlessly without thoughts or feelings about how I feel. I wish she’d stop stop stop in her own good time they say, Okay I say Okay.
A ‘how to manual’ tattooed on heart make me easy to read. Patience, a dash of virtue goes a long way. Make peace not war I implore. W.T.F. about virtues instead? Peace unending everlasting enchanting chore this side of shore. This side of paradise hear my crying my flow of golden words they sing my open heart song for you alone, misty blue hear my wail of thunder & despair. I don’t want to care - I do.
- Joy Leftow
(added 03.03.09)
I Sing The Blues For You Today
I want to do poetry like Billy Holiday singing the blues
I want to do poetry like Ella Fitzgerald
I want to be me singing my holiday blues
Billie’s songs are poetry so fine it makes me think I’m her doing rhyme
Thoughts about Billie make me go off line, hook line & sinker, she puts me back in time
I sing to my lover, I want to make your poetry mine because you spout rhymes
while observing my life become an unending grocery list of things to get done
Your life or mine, yours is on my mind - the list of to dos keeps growing exponentially
Number 1, try out a mattress, 2, buy it, 3, buy new locks to keep someone out number 4, find someone to install it, make 10 million calls & keep writing lists. What did you say? How many sessions, any lessons in storage? Will the Divine power of intervention help?
I don’t want to bore you with the details and derail you from my song.
Damn, wonder if I’ll ever see Willa Dean again– oh man, you know the women I mean
Kept her head wrapped up like an African Queen with her creamy coffee looking self.
Willa said the secret to good potato salad is to go heavy on the mayo
Willa Dean days, they’re all in a haze now. I was so high back then.
The memory lingers, listening & watching while she told stories. She’d whisper, her voice barely a breeze, tell me about her lovers, say, “I’m gonna get me some.” Sometimes I’d get confused & asked did she mean her husband or lover. Willa’d have dinner waiting when her husband got tired of cab driving & came home to rest. She’d show me wilted lettuce and bring it back to life telling me about her lovers, drugs, & children while making potato salad. I thought she’s a woman of many talents, a stoned cold junkie and a working mom combined
The nose that knows, her preference was coke, good moist coke at a good right price too on the upper - upper west side in Washington Heights, 162nd street to be exact
Willa was friends with a famous New York jazzman and his wife, a New York City teacher. Willa had class & style combined; she took me to dress models at the Ritz one time. Got paid for it too. It was such a pleasure to do. I even got a pair of designer gloves out of it.
People accepted Willa everywhere we went –
We were at jazzman’s apartment, small tight crowded living room upper west side 90’s.
Willa’s friend sat across from me staring at my big breasts. I can see how tight your muscles are.
Let me massage you she said aggressively hurting me so bad physically we had an argument instead.
Passing through hundreds of lives so many colors
Let me take you back to what we share - strivings for love – wanting to go somewhere - wanting to discover who we really are - got anywhere to go ~ see ourselves through the eyes of others and – finally see who we really are.
extend this power to the umpteenth degree. We still wonder who they think we are ~
uncover recover to turn to return to who we want to be
Dreams are reality - stop thinking, dreams are the color of my true love’s hair
Beyond the color of my true love’s hair, his dreads caress my bare hands
A whole-years grocery list pressed into a foggy mist of autumn red
turns bright chartreuse before bleakly the list dissolves before my eyes
True colors make my heart sneeze amidst a perpetual mist of violet-blues
a dream more real than a memory
- Joy Leftow
(featured in the poetry forum 02.02.09) |
