Joy’s repertoire is expanding

Since late 2008 when I began working on my bluetry series, beginning with I Sing The Blues For You, which to date, has been published 5 times, I have been incorporating music into my performance poetry. More recently I decided to expand my repertoire by adding song to my performance and also to give listeners a break from my rants and raves which are very sad and sometimes overwhelming.

My neighbor, Wren Harrington, has been kind enough to take me on as a student. Ms. Harrington is a very accomplished singer and teacher. The first lesson consisted of breath exercises along with scales. I then begged her to help me with my first song that I had been miming alone and with Dubblex. Wren proclaimed that I improved greatly just in my first lesson.

I am so excited! I can't wait for lesson two.

In the meantime, here I am playing sing song all by my lonesome, plodding along.

Here below is the first song, Turning Point, that I know from listening to Nina Simone. If you click on the link you can watch at youtube.

Turning Point

The second song below can also be watched at youtube.

I Wish You Love


Gloria Lynne made the song I Wish You Love famous. According to what I read, Ms. Lynne, who recently passed on a few weeks ago, recorded this song thinking it was no big deal. It wasn't even one of her favorite numbers to perform, but audiences fell for the way she performed this number and it hit the top ten list quickly and became a hit.

For a while, Ms. Lynne was homeless, as she never received any monies from the records of most of her recordings. When asked why she continued to sing when she couldn't make a living, she replied, that singing was what she lived for. I am certain all of you artists can relate to that. It's certainly welcome to earn income for our art, but whether we earn or not, we continue to be artists. It's just so sad that so many artists during her time period were taken advantage of in this manner, and not given proceeds for the albums they made that sold.

The day after Ms. Lynne passed, I happened to be at a music jam on the lower east side, at University Of The Streets, and a woman sang this song in memory of Gloria Lynne, and did it justice too. This inspired me to move myself to the next level to add to my performance. It was also a sad moment for me because Mohammad, the guy who originally founded the University Of The Streets, was someone I'd met back in 1977. During that time Mohammad had many type programs at the University for the community. I happened to be walking by, looked up and saw the name of the organization and walked in. After that, I met with him frequently. My discussions with Mohammad was a focusing impetus in my decision to enter Columbia University, where I was a student in the Higher Education Opportunity Program, made eligible through poverty status and being disadvantaged educationally. I was the only white one in the program the entire 5 years I spent undergrad there.

I went to the music jam at University of the Streets with Demetrius Daniel and his friend Mark. Mohammad's photo sat large on a wall. Only the lady singing knew what I was talking about when I said the University used to be around the corner from where it currently was. She informed me that Mohammad had died a few year ago. This made me sad because I had always intended to stop by and see and thank him for our talks and now I can only thank him in my heart.

Reality is the Blues Too - Bluetry #9

The Internet blends virtual and living
what’s the word you’re saying I can’t understand u, I keep trying to cope with his accent.
No, emphatically softly spoken writing chat, speaking hurriedly, I write in internet language –
Oh I said, how come I can’t hear or understand you.

U remind me of my gurlfriend hurt voice grouchy deep,
add another rock to the pile of styles I forbid you too,
finally fell silent for my own good.
She’s in love with me too he cood.
Oh well we probably have a lot in common I say with each breath I’m dying.
Well ok beecoz
she thinks it’s inconceivable
I’m friends with a woman frm america
you and I we’ll speak 12 hrs frm now
when its ni8 for u N day 4 me
a strange language in a love embrace
play your blues for me daddy I wont go home
I’ll eat them all night long let your blues loose for me, Daddy
A cool glass; water please. No disease please let me go
You turn me on I’m a radio
you’re driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who’s bound to love you
Oh honey you turn me on
Im’a radio, a country-station broadcasting tower
I’m so in love with me why aren’t you

An outcast misfit living in bluetry- a new word I create my own lexicon, I never refuse a gift I can use; I’m strong or wrong, a poet, not a bully
I just want someone to love.
Respect – the girl next-door walks by my door covered with blue bruises, her baby held hostage by su esposo’ para hacer un esclavo de ella - make a slave of her, no tiene’ respecto’ mis vecino’s concurra.
I’m hungry don’t you want some breast-fast?
(oo) What you want
(oo) Baby, I got it
(oo) What you need
(oo) Don't know I got it?
Cast out from everything, by everyone I know I live outside looking in.
Longing for youthful beauty fading in the distance the moon and stars keep riffin those guitar blues in persistence I hear ya knocking at my door.
I hear ya knockin’ but ya can’t come in
I’m scared you’re more dangerous than me, I’m scared for her, for you for me for all of us I am, my life breath fading in the instance of constantly –
that bottle slide sure does make that guitar riff daddy.
Let it go to my feet wet windy sex in the sax screech of my lungs sound
Like a flower waiting to bloom
Like a light bulb in a dark room
I'm jes sittin’ here waiting for you to come on home
And turn me on