Thursday, December 29, 2016

L’Chaim! Toasting 2017 ...

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

Monday, December 05, 2016

Third time's the charm for Cleo's Poem


Cleo, stunning and engaging
Ravaged by cancer in 6 weeks
Fast growing tumor behind nasal passages

Pressing into her right ear, nose, later her right eye
Cleo's will was strong but cancer’s more powerful
Possessive to a fault
She owned me, not me, her
Cleo was mistress of my home
Very frustrating when she would not permit other females
Except her mother in our domicile

The way she tilted her head, curled her lip
Like she was Elvis reborn in a cat, looking in my eyes.
Poor girl!
Spunky to a fault

What will we do without her?
Beautiful …
Golden silky hair became unkempt
Weight fell from her frail body like autumn leaves
Left with no choice
Hope gone, my heart bereft
Want to hold on to her purrs and love
Feel her head pushing against my body
Her rough tongue licks my hand: I pet her
Her scent still on the shirt I wore Friday
Unable to purr, nor eat, the tumor grew fast, blocking the way

Higgins thought AMC could remove part of the tumor
As they also mistakenly thought when they assured me
She’d be the better to try, 50 - 50 chance, after all,
Higgins already tried and failed but believed they’d succeed
Never listen to vets when your gut dictates a different route
Not sure if they wanted to help her or wanted young interns to learn

Lessons learned too late
Can't hold back fate

Learned a few more peaceful days
Not surgery trauma choices
Anesthesia wrecked an already starving soul striving to survive
I regret not continuing using subcutaneous water
Combined with finger feeding baby food
Instead doctors installed a feeding tube
Made her gag even worse than before
Doctors almost convinced me her tiny
Shrinking body could handle radiation fine
Sure glad I didn't listen, only wish I hadn’t
Let them put her small shrinking body through surgical trauma
Can’t forgive myself, made her suffering worse
Let interns learn and experiment, when
In the end, everything they did at AMC made it worse,
Kind of like our government
Letting go of Cleo was the hardest thing I've ever done.
There will never be another Cleo
Knowing Cleo’s out of misery is no consolation
Miss her love, her energy, her beauty, her excitation
Flame point Siamese with deep blue eyes; visualize her exotic look,
Feel her strange personality
Cat fanciers classify Flame point Siamese as “Exotic”
Even though Cleo clearly is pure Siamese, through and through

Brushing Cleo’s fur made her purr loudly
Helped reduce cat hair in environment
Lay awake; want to feel her body press against mine
Want to stare into her eyes, Cleo lying on her back staring back
Stretching her small slim body, her limbs against mine
Urging me to stroke her and moving to let me know where
Purrs so loud I wondered how she did it
Gone forever, she lives on in my heart,
Try to cope with loss, and remember
Visualize Cleo
With her mother, Starr, and bossy Sphinx Davie
Starr screaming for Cleo
Inseparable in life
All of us bereft, confused
Miss her warmth
Cleo, … gone!
Life cut short, 9 years’ soul
Mercy, mercy, please...

Cleo would have been 9 years old December 27th. I was forced to put her down as the tumor pressed on the back of her throat and no food or water could pass. It was growing fast and had already grown into her ear and infected it. Then it spread behind her left eye. 

First The Humane Society had seen her and thought it was an ear infection. Then when I brought her back they thought it was a cold. When I reported that the back of her throat was completely closed, they sedated her and tried to reach the tumor thinking it was a polyp and they reported it was too deep and they could not reach it. 

I should have listened to my gut when my urge was to take her home and let her rest giving her fluids subcutaneously, and baby food and nutriment on my finger. Instead on the advice of doctors who suggested she see specialists at the Animal Medical Center, I took her there for a consult. They said they thought they could get the polyp and that there was a good chance it was not cancer and that they would insert a feeding tube. I thought the feeding tube would be in the stomach but it was placed in her throat, which only aggravated her gagging reflex. After a couple of hours of anesthesia and experimental work, they saw they could do nothing and from only looking doctors were able to report it was a very fast growing cancer. When she came home she was much worse for the entire trauma. I would have had to put down anyway but she would have had a few days in peace with her mother, pictured below next to her. 

The tumor grew very fast and was invading every organ in every part of her head. 

God Bless Cleo! May she rest in peace and may the next birth be blessed.