Sunday, February 26, 2017

Is It Love or Excuses - will be included in upcoming book Tupelo Honey published by Acquirelle

Is It Love or Excuses - will be included in upcoming book Tupelo Honey published by Acquirelle. I won 3rd prize in their contest and for that I get 5 free books and they publish the book.

First Prize: 15 books and a Kindle plus they publish a book of your work.

Second Prize: 10 copies plus they publish a book of your work.

Third Prize: 5 copies of your book plus they publish a book of your work.

I got 3rd prize!

I have been told my others this is very significant because it is very hard to win any contest!

Check this out on Chirbit

Friday, January 20, 2017

Dream Lover

I dreamed this scenario several weeks ago.
I am with Missy, my young grad school buddy.  She’s with a new boyfriend, someone I never met before. I recognize this as being strange in my dream, knowing she's now married with children. Bob, my boyfriend, Missy, and my son, Joey are all there together. Bob is with us yet seconds later, he is rapping to some chick 15 feet away. I walk towards them, but when I get there, Bob’s disappeared into thin air. 
“Where's Bob?"  I ask.
Joey says, “In the store, buying beer.”
         Missy and I are walking downtown on Broadway together. We’re on our way to visit my Dad who lives down on 162nd street and Riverside Drive. It’s a long walk from Sickle Street (Close to Dykeman Street) in Washington Heights.
This is before Washington Heights became Hudson Heights, before gentrification. For me it will always be The Heights.
Missy and I are strolling slowly, talking, taking our time.  We run into Alan Abel, the big 'Get Even' Scam Man Prankster, Bob had once introduced me to.
I say, “Hey Alan, how are you?”
Alan says, “Hey, how’re ya’? You’re the woman involved with Bob, that young English fellow I met you with in Oxford?” Alan is speaking while pulling out all these stylish clothes from somewhere. I can’t figure out where they’re coming from. Missy says excitedly, “Lets share everything here.”
“Excellent,” I agree, forgetting my concern about where the stuff is coming from.
I pull out a tight colorful skirt. I feel Missy’s eyes on it. I say, “Oh Missy, that wouldn't fit you, you're too big.” I realize I spoke without thinking. Missy is not big anymore plus I'm worried I hurt her feelings. I quickly say, “Oh you're not big anymore.”
Too late, the words are spoken.
         Missy, Alan and I wind up in my apartment in my home office. Alan is using my fax to make copies. I remember Bob putting cellophane wrappers on the roller that holds the fax paper. Later he refills with paper. I can't remember why Bob was using cellophane but suddenly realize Bob’s trying to trap me into doing something sexual with Alan. He is using cellophane to create a tracking record on fax.
Alan continues to make copies using the fax machine.
Alan says, “I really appreciate you letting me use your machine this way.”
Suddenly I smell something funny burning inside the fax and the copy button pops up and out of the machine.
I say, “Oh shit, Bob warned me about how careful I have to be with this fax.  He gave me this long list of do's and don'ts. Repeated over and over, ‘don't use white out, no scotch tape either, don’t touch buttons,’ and truth is I’m guilty and he’ll say I broke his fax.”
         Alan focuses on me. Alan says, “How much do you care about this Bob guy?”   
“I'm crazy about him and can’t understand why he makes me unhappy. I wonder if any man can give me what I want or need.”
         Missy cuts in, “Do you both feel the same about faithfulness?”
 Alan tells Missy, 'No, the real problem is she has not found anyone to meet her needs or make her happy.”        
Alan turns to include me, “But, why aren't you faithful?” 
“You mean unfaithful because I'm hanging out with you here?' 
Right beside me standing there abruptly is some guy who wasn't there a second before. Someone I’ve never seen before.
I defend myself, “Oh, we don't have sex. And although I've been unfaithful, I'd much rather be faithful, but somehow, when I get unhappy I also get unfaithful."  I pause and take a breath. 
         "Is that it?" Alan said. He smiles slightly, adds in his strong pretend English accent, "Well, that's all right then, some people are unfaithful just for the hell of it."
         "No," Missy says, "There's more to it than that.”
Alan has his mind made up. He starts making lists of the pros and cons about my relationship with Bob. Instead of reading the lists, I watch him feeding the lists through the fax to make copies. I see he's taped relevant and matching stuff together to better organize themes. I get worried about the fax again.  
“Alan” I say, “you will break the fax putting paper through with tape.”
         Scene switches again. Alan and I are sitting together on big rocks at an outdoor garden. We are completely alone and isolated. Alan moves closer behind me. The waterfall in front of us is breathtaking like Niagara, granite rocks glinting from the sun, slippery, and filled with lush wild flowers. The view mesmerizes me. Beautiful, and wild, yet tended to. I want to climb down but it's about a five-foot drop. I worry if I can’t get down I won't be able to climb back up without help. I stand there enjoying a familiar rapture, Alan’s powerful energy combined with the moment’s tranquility. I am enraptured yet captive.
         I feel Alan’s body pressing against mine from behind me. His growing erection presses against my butt. “I want you to be mine,” he says. Even though I’m crazy beyond what you’ve ever known before, I believe we can make it.” He leans in, bends his head toward mine for that first heady kiss.
         Dizziness overcomes me, hunger claws at me. My stomach lurches with fear of getting involved and let down again, and still I raise my lips to greet his.
         Eyes wide open, gazing deep inside my eyes, I feel hurt and hunger so deep, and my womb throbs with desire while his erection pulses against me.

Thursday, December 29, 2016

L’Chaim! Toasting 2017 in...

My words like music, fill your ears
My lips, soft like rose petals touch your lips
Words fill you with sounds I don’t hear
Rhymes I spout fill your heart
Lonely, long for love, here, now
Too smart for my own good
If you only stood where I stand,
Maybe you’d understand
Where I’m coming from

Childhood to adulthood in barely an hour
Live till we’re dead under power
Of the IRS, government shadows & showers
Wonder if or when or can it be better
Our minds, thoughts controlled, fettered
Would a chain letter do, a scarlet letter
BE a trend setter or pacesetter

Move forward, be straightforward
Hold words close to our heart
As though words are people;
They’re not
Store words in our hearts
Know we can’t go back to yesterday
Must live with what we hear today
What we say & hear on sad days
Thoughts are transient
Words last longer
Can’t erase words you’ve spoken
Words escape your palate, are token
Leave me brokenhearted
Pretend to study a pie chart

Love is strange,
Life, a curse, a game played on my shame
Kick start my life into another movie frame
Soothe and feed flames
Love claims my blame
My name, my fame,
Life’s games, reclaim my stage & nick name

Disclaim strife – go on with life

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Amber - written for Amber Atiya in 2008

She melts in your mouth
like the hot resin of a ripened tree
The m's roll off your tongue poetically
Amber absorbs sunlight and reflects moonlight
She has her own glow
Amber comes in many colors like a rainbow
Sometimes cloudy and sometimes clear
The ones with fossils are worth the most; it makes sense 
Because skeletons are a big expense

Sometimes you see straight through her
A connoisseur of fragile glass
Shades of golden yellow to fern green to lime or orange
Amber is diffuse, her energy attracts
her words interact it’s a fact
mellow yellow amber golden mellow tones
color range from orange peel to bittersweet to tangerine
controls your senses
Releases chemicals into your brain
every woman’s dream

Amber grounds your energies
Rules your naval chakra
using golden orange tools
she draws disease from your wounds
Cleanses your organs of poisons
Revitalizes your organs

The ancient gods burned her
The 3 holy ones revered Amber
Used in all holy and spiritual rituals
Her incense & jewels persist
And are still renown today
… How can you go wrong

if you choose her once she’s chosen you…

© Joy Leftow
*This was written for Amber Atiya, in 2008, when she was still using the name Precious Jones. This poem was an attempt to convince her that her birth name, Amber, is beautiful and very valuable!  

Thursday, December 15, 2016


I follow the news
Stupid programs on TV
Get further away from where I want to be
Further away from me
From who I want me to be
But please, please don’t blame me
I’m a brainwashed woman
Can’t do nothing, nothing without
My baby
Can’t do nothing without
My babies

Brainwashed society
All of us, live like robots in history
Stand by; let shit happen
Like someone in another century
I’m scared to death,
Stop the craziness, go back, life’s a sudden hurricane
Admit there’s no control
Forget this laziness, TV

Resplendent in glory left for none to enjoy
All gone in the bush with a game of trump
Writ in desire of wild fires burning
Everyone hurting
What would it take to bring a world together?
To stop mass slaughters, human + animal
When will we see, realize what’s to be done

All of us blind, a brainwashed society, a scorching society visionless inside
Dead washed Brainwashed, whitewashed, everything washed since infancy
Is it possible to escape destiny, fight to survive lose so many, will it count to bring one back?

Dubblex and I figure when you’re in New Orleans; you should cross the Mississippi so we decide to take the ferry back and forth. On our way back, the man driving the ferry came out of his control room and made a beeline right over. 

He wore a very large rimmed oiled hat to keep water from splashing in his face. He wore an oiled knee length raincoat along with knee high wading boots. Greeted us like he knew us. “Hey,” he said, “Seeing you guys, reminds me of Boston, where I grew up and my mom would bundle me up.” Pegged us right away; we wondered what’d we done to give it away. Duh?

Without further ado, he continued. “I’ll tell you what the problem is, the world cannot support so many people – because we have decimated our resources. Thus there’s a limited amount to go around. We can’t support this burgeoning humanity that keeps growing. The more limited the resources, the more we fight for them. Everything in our world is a result of what we do, like prolonging life so much that it costs more to live longer, increasing the limited access to resources – so that’s why we have wars and inhumane societies.” He tipped his hat. “Nice meeting you folks.” He turned & walked away with a small wave. “I have to bring her in. Goodbye now! Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

I recall his words …

So strange, surreal, I sit and wonder about this conversation. Does he pick someone every trip and tell him this? I consider and wonder, is this real?

*another true poetry story by Joy Leftow