Wednesday, September 30, 2009


I sat in a wooden shack
in a chair of wood,
at a wooden table
and thinking of wood

In the middle of some undetermined
location somewhere on half an island
in the middle of no-where
where we would know anyway

I simply picked up the book
that sat right there on the wooden
table, like me, it sat
speaking, reaching out to me

I turned to the page inspirationally
all about how he felt about me
He grabbed the book from my hand
realizing I knew
he was upset that I knew that he was

still involved in thinking of me
So you ask, is he happy, content?
No he’s a certifiable alcoholic
lost in dreams of the man he used to be

before he got lost in these
nightmares that came before
dawn became dusk, then again
Nevermore quoth the raven

But it was just the same as before
and more of the same old values
which had held him prisoner for decades
Indeed, now it was clearly a pattern

I wish I could help him improve
make life a little bit better,
Reviewing his past is strange
and doesn’t change his future

© Joy Leftow 2005

Monday, September 28, 2009

Getting up

dubblex on the flex by violetwrites


Most didn’t see Carmen as pretty
with her big framed self,
but I saw her as pretty
Her lips were slim and shapely
Radiant dark brown almond eyes
danced with amber lights
Her words were a river of throaty
melodic blues, she was beautiful

I listened contentedly, submerged
in her words cascading over me
Eyes rich, pleasant to stare into
not fat, big and tall,
she stood 6 feet 2,
Some mighta’ called her husky
She had dark brown frizzy hair -
In those days - they said ‘kinky’,
her face was soft and oval

Carmen was Nuyorican in 1963
before the word had been invented
a Puerto Rican New Yorker

I stared into her pools of liquid irises
while we rambled on,
sharing, baring our secrets
selfishly, selflessly and eloquently

Carmen had high cheekbones
a sweet engaging smile with a
big fro creating a halo
She seduced gay men
Back in the day Carmen was my best friend

Both of us were outcasts
She didn’t fit in with her kind
I didn’t fit with mine
We hit it off - hung together,
no boundaries anywhere
We sure made a strange pair

Saturday, September 26, 2009


Things were different when I was young
and looking for love I met Harry Darmenjion,
the actor who went out to the west coast who
was offered a contract by a major motion
picture production house which he refused
screaming at them that he wasn’t a sell out
and they didn’t understand his artistry

I didn’t understand any of this,
the only explanation is he must’ve been high
I found it amazing that he could get an appointment
at all, All I could fathom is that
his family had money, and money is connection
It was all crazy anyway because instead
of making it with his talents
he was a stoned out drug fiend,
busy emulating Bob Dylan, singing his songs,
getting together with friends
using heroin, and plucking a guitar

None of it made sense to me
He ceaselessly pursued me until he got me
he had a small dick, so conquering females
was very important
after which he lost interest

Later on Bob from England reminded me of Harry
He too had a small dick and was very theatrical
he’d pull my head gently back by my hair
and kiss me long and deeply
he was very similar to Harry
except there were no drugs
just asthma and emotional weaknesses
which he used to control his lovers

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Monday, September 21, 2009

Call me ms blues tonight ~ Bluetry #18

Blues and jazz play a blue soul cruise inside my head
day after day those blues play like a sensei screenplay,
a gateway to John Coltrane
Eyes closed I watch him riffing ~ up and down the scale he goes, the quartet flowing – I join making it a quintet – we’re rolling on Soultrane
McCoy Tyner, Sonny Rollins, Ornette Coleman –
jazzy blues drifting into the sunset
I wish I could relent - an ascent to another world my intent bent on a scent, a new advent,
a dent in the rent, I’m totally pent up, tormented and spent, 100 percent
I depend on an upward trend these blues feel my heart penned into a new poem
send me off the deep end, all I can spend
Amy Winehouse went back to black
I stayed where I am - same jack shit
Stack those blues up for a snack attack I’m taken aback ~ that wooden shack – a lilac, a payback
Those blues blowing off into the distance - their cadence feels my sadness
Chords extend I make amends it’s rosh hashanah 2009
… transcend the outcome, it’s a godsend, I dread bloodshed while I dream my life away
I downplay doomsday building in my head
Conceiving a notion I make a motion to idealize the commotion
I sit and visualize the resolution hallucinate formulate and sublimate
Words so profound they keep me spellbound
I can’t hear where they end and I begin ~ words turn me inside out
Burn some rocket fuel, don’t drool it’s too cruel,
destiny is not a coincidence of scrutiny
There’s no escaping the blue’s impending energy I fend them off daily
only to feel them revived again and again
They’re making new hearts these days from clay reborn I want a new one –
I stand in sunshine yet rain falls on my head
Everyone merry I’ll take the next ferry try to catch up to you
got to get out of the cold my life’s not on hold I’m singing the blues until I fold
old time jazz, that razz tazz blues I’m gonna get bankrolled lo and behold
coast a while to labile– send me another mango, it’s a new lifestyle
Introduce me to myself I’ll have my way with fate
I’m ms blues to you from now until I say I do
Rock them blues back, like a kudzu they infuse me and abuse me, reduce me and seduce me
I ain’t looking for an excuse, don’t confuse me
like a weeping spruce I can’t give up the fight love’s light in sight this night,
I recite in stage fright another back bite luddite go fly a kite
Put my soul on a hook and draw a needle through it
My blues rip through me
Singing the blues under a translucent snow-white moonlight I ignore my plight in musical delight
Blues on steadfast order of rewrites - My trays too full of holiday blues
A pure Semite emerging like a sprite from a cu⋅mu⋅lo⋅ nim⋅bus nonplussed by genius
at twilight igniting like phosphorescent pyrite
I’m torn in two
call me ms blues tonight

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

difficult shmificult how bad can it get

October issue will be coming out soon but probably not the first of October. I'm doing the best I can while the world keeps crumbling around me. Gone to shit! I'm scrambling to keep this Cartier going but it takes several hours per day.
I am also trying to get together my column for the October issue. I plan to review and write up a phone interview with John Yamrus and you can bet you'll see it here too as well as Birthdays of Poets and!

On another note, if anyone would like to buy A Spot Of Bleach and Other Poems & Prose, for 10 bucks plus $3 shipping give me a shout and send through pay pal to They make great holiday gifts.

Don't forget to visit dubblex diaries.

Yamrus' style and humor inspired me to come up with the following little write.

In reverie of john yamrus permit me to say

I’ve put up with my fair share of despair and let me downs -some hard - some easier
It’s all the same, my disappointment about disparaging remarks about my pink hair. It’s gone and faded from bright red I admit
to hearing insults from important poets known on the scene about my poetry not being “real” poetry
My poetry is not authentic; it’s eccentric
I don’t know how you can get more real than me
My poetry is me and then some more
It has room for me and you in store
You find yourselves in here, inside a poem
Be careful what you say round me
I will quote you
in a poem
It’s no good to say I should delay
You say you pray I won’t consider putting your words in a poem even though you know that’s what I do
repeat after me – I forbid you to put this in a poem
so if it’s not goose for the gander stop feeding me
Give me some respect for what I do
I spill my blood and guts for you
I receive letters from people who read what I write
I received one today from a very nice girl.
She said she’s sorry for my life, she feels so sad for me, she’s just glad she’s not here where I am, she wouldn’t know what to do if she stood here where I stand in my shoes
She doesn’t know anyone who’s had it this bad
She just don’t know how I manage to survive a life this sad
I told her suicide’s a waste of time
I spend my energy writing poetry
She said you suck at poetry
You can’t write “real” poetry anyway
You think I’m pulling your leg?
Then whose leg am I pulling -
Damn if I had my legs pulled a little maybe I wouldn’t feel this hip pain so bad
So I’m an old fool who writes poetry –
What did you say you do?

Friday, September 11, 2009

September 11 commemoration

I wrote these two poems below in 2002. I'm adding Neil Young's lyrics for Let's Roll and Impeach the President, after my poems because when I read his poems I cried.


The sun so bright, blinding me
Can't see a foot ahead ...
the future so scary, blinded by sun
Can't see where I'm stepping
The air’s turned so suddenly cool
The sun’s so bright, blinding me
glittering on the concrete

Can't see a step ahead
Must trust in God
Can only see American Flags
waving boldly everywhere
So proudly we stand
So proudly we die
Sacrifice loudly hailed
from both sides

Our ears hear new words
Jihad and Muhammad
ancient words and holy wars
No one knows what to believe
or think anymore
So many deaths ... So sad
The fear is so compelling
more chilly than the fall air


In the wake of the WTC
everything seems so very gray
yet brighter than it’s ever been before
strange lights and hues have settled over my city
like a cloud, a heavy smog, a depression
Yet life is now more precious
than it was before the WTC

Not one day passes that I don’t
consider the value of life
think about how it’s too short, how
long it may last and all the hurts and
wonders we experience while alive
I awkwardly weigh the balance
Honestly, I can’t see what’s left

Lyrics for: Let's Roll by Neil Young

I know I said I love you
I know you know it's true
I got to put the phone down,
And do what we gotta do

One's standing in the aisle way
Two more at the door
We got to get inside there
Before they kill some more

Time is runnin' out, let's roll
Time is runnin' out, let's roll

No time for indecision
We got to make a move
I hope that we're forgiven
For what we gotta do

How this all got started
I'll never understand
I hope someone can fly this thing
And get us back to land

Time is runnin' out, let's roll
Time is runnin' out, let's roll

No one has the answers
But one thing is true
You got to turn on evil
When it's comin' after you

You got to face it down
And when it tries to hide
You got to go in after it
And never be denied

Time is runnin' out, let's roll

Let's roll for freedom
Let's roll for love
Goin' after satan
On the wings of a dove

Let's roll for justice
Let's roll for truth
Let's not let our children
Grow up fearful in their youth

Time is runnin' out, let's roll
Time is runnin' out, let's roll
Time is runnin' out, let's roll

“Impeach the President" by Neil Young lyrics below...

Let's impeach the president for lying
And leading our country into war
Abusing all the power that we gave him
And shipping all our money out the door
He's the man who hired all the criminals
The White House shadows who hide behind closed doors
And bend the facts to fit with their new stories
Of why we have to send our men to war
Let's impeach the president for spying
On citizens inside their own homes
Breaking every law in the country
By tapping our computers and telephones
What if Al Qaeda blew up the levees
Would New Orleans have been safer that way
Sheltered by our government's protection
Or was someone just not home that day?
Let's impeach the president
For hijacking our religion and using it to get elected
Dividing our country into colors
And still leaving black people neglected
Thank god he's racking down on steroids
Since he sold his old baseball team
There's lot of people looking at big trouble
But of course the president is clean
Thank God

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

something new

As most of you folk know, it's hard to drag ass and do things when it means you got to go away from de big screen- my computer's like a tv it's so big- so mostly we do a lot of indoor activities. And yes DubbleX is even worse than me about isolating and staying in. You know he gets into his garageband and chess and it's hard to move him anywhere. I do make it out about 2 times a month though and am trying to stick to that and it's easier since I am trying hard to support neighborhood events in Washington Heights. The last time I went someplace else and was supposed to read I forgot my papers and even when i know something real good, I still need my papers.

I read this morning on Wikipedia that now my Washington Heights, where I was born and have lived my entire life is now called Hudson Heights - this is what they're trying to call my neighborhood folks!-

Hudson Heights is some creation from realtors trying to boost up the monied connection in Washington Heights where now you can also spend a million for a co-op or a condo. Washington Heights is my hood...

I digress Sherlock... read on

Well some months ago some dude wrote me a note asking me to go to his blog - and I did because I usually try to do that when someone writes me and asks me too. You know, it's really hard too when only a handful reciprocate. See I'm not talking about the people who come to see the crazy white lady, and I admit I'm crazy. I come by it naturally. They locked my Dad up in Bellevue's psyche ward. My mom was totally drained and bereft; sick on a daily basis and all she did was try to raise her four children. Actually neither one was ever well during my lifetime.

What the fuck does this have to do with the bigger picture? Well nothing except that some dude wrote me some time ago and asked me to look and read his stuff about his travel ails - and continued to send me updates. Now this same dude sent me this fantastic musical he wrote and directed. Damo Bullen didn't pay me to say this but I think if you want to be entertained - harmonica hip hop and standard sounds mix in an updated musical for a new generation, just check this.

I guess what this has to do with the rant above is that sometimes we all need distraction and entertainment. It's a radical evolution.

It's called Alibi - The Musical

Be entertained and get happy.

There are several different versions or parts and it's not clear what that is either, nor is the cast clear which it should be. My only complaint except for needing subtitles in part 8 because I couldn't understand hear the dialogue because I can't understand english spoken in some parts of england. An englishman told me it's because english is spoken properly there. That's a joke - a joke. We got some heavily accented folk here too and if you heard me speak before you know I'm all new york jewish style ~ in your face and funny.

Good show folks! Thanks for looking out...

Friday, September 04, 2009

new old bluetry #7- Bluetry Flowing Coming & Going

Mad Swirl Girl

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

All the voices in my head tread lightly the pain is great I got the blues on download in my psyche, I’ma put it on pause take a breath let the light in 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.

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

The entire poem was reorganized and made new

Thursday, September 03, 2009

If you click on the photos you can read the original version of DubbleX's dreadlock poem. We've since painted these walls except for this poem which has great meaning.