Tribute to Rodriguez & Joy performing her bluetry - YouTube

Tribute to Rodriguez & Joy performing her bluetry - YouTube

I DENY IT, I AM NOT A RAPPER

The sky moves beneath my feet; a glistening sun burns my feet

I behold in agony - sadness searching for laughter, I turn to old movies

A checkered sunset rises westbound another demonstration of old things turning new

Tempestuous over tides ruin blandishing broomstick houses

A fire consumes my overgrown garden

Rheumy overtures turn on anticipation mode
I wait while I fight fires or let go

The deep dark vilifications waiting below

The sky moves beneath my feet, planets aligned with fate ignites

Success coming in each new breath, intake and release faith

Tremors take hold, separate skin from bones penetrate my will to procreate

A life out of sight a brand new game emerges from flames

I enter a new dimension, time all aglow with hearts and broken rainbows

Forms beneath my feet towers of past delight but mostly hurts out of sight

Letting blame go becomes easier day to day trying to make it burn to incite more delight

Feign letting go, letting go girl is so hard to do

Hold on to just deserts, I got my last swirl in mad swirl swimming in converts following my concerts

I will get mine tonight

The time’s just right

I will get mine tonight

My just delights

Will be mine at long last

Come on and say it with me:

My just delights

Will be mine at long last

XX’s dad insists on calling me rapper and arguing about it is senseless although I deny it. “I am not a rapper.” I say. My Indian physical therapists insist too. “You are a rapper miss Joy.” I deny it again. “I am not a rapper I declare.” I jam my poetry to music, my baby bluetry.” They say, “OK, OK, we don’t know what to call you we want to come out and support you at your next performance.” Call me you what you want. You can’t define my style and there’s the rub, compare me to anyone.

I feel it in my soul tonight, my poetry and voice reveals your heart. Art a la carte is coming to town via Violet. Blowing in with wind.

Living life is out outta sight, and the glory shall be he said to me, death is coming for everyone. I got the right. I overpaid my dues too just like Rodriguez who lives next door to me.

The sky moves beneath my feet at my command

My just delights will be mine at long last, stay in tune for the jazz band

Aligns with sun signs long past due

I contritely join another band with my last strand of energy

Because I will never let go, my words survive.

Stand in line to criticize me

So-called friends gather together to conspire to criticize me. They review and share the litany of my misdeeds, judge my improprieties. Criticized from all sides. Some call me fickle because of how I live my life. If you’re seeking someone to criticize don’t let me stand in your way. Just stand in line I’m about to sell tickets.

One friend knows how to act to fool anyone and she believes her own lies. I remember she fooled two therapists proving two was as easy as one to deceive. She told me one was for her heart, the other one for her mind. She can no longer see what is deception or illusion. She is like me, lives in her private world of delusion. A flimsy sense of right and wrong betrays me; I see the world through a film of gauze and baubles - always let down.

Criticizing is a waste of time and so easy. Eventually, I get tired of your unkind ways and tell you alcoholism is a mental illness. I resolve not to continue to be unkind so I apologize.

Everyone else is more sensible, They know how to avoid trouble and when I say that is what I’m doing - the same as they have done, I’m called insane and crazy though I’ve been called worse. I say the unsaid things no one else says.

I tell Buck Henry, “I’d rather be faithful but when I get unhappy I also get unfaithful.” He laughs and agrees life is like that. I’d rather not throw stones but when so many stones hit you how many do you take before you throw some back. Imagine! A plagiarizer and a drunken fool with nothing to show stand in line to criticize me. Kill yourself slowly, you have someone waiting below you.

You give yourselves leave to play gods to my queen. You’re both so perfect you have the right to judge me so stand in line to criticize me.

You know you’re better than me if we don’t count your predilection for alcohol and prostitutes bragging how much you hate condoms. I don’t need weapons for my two main accusers. She had him write all her papers so she could go to college to become a nurse. She explained to us how God put him there to write them for her. I pray she’ll never nurse anyone I know. Oops my bad, I agree you’re both better than me. Stand in line to criticize me. Friends don’t criticize = for stupid stuff. I resign myself to stay positive and move towards the light so everything will be all right.

I’m selling tickets now so stand in line to criticize me.

Julio says,  “Everyone kicks a falling star. It’s in your planets to be a humanitarian. You have no luck sister because you were a fallen in a past life. Take yourself away from negativity. Don’t think about negative people and only be with those who are positive. Do this sister and stay positive and move towards the light and everything will be all right.”

I’m moving on to a new hemisphere. Bygones are bygones even woebegone. I’d accept an apology but I understand it’s more important to be right. New beginnings are out of sight!

I make a new year’s resolution to make more friends… and to make amends.

Tribute to Rodriguez: violet - dubblex

Violet & Dubblex singing the first 2 paragraphs of Sixto Rodriguez's Climb Up On My Music.

Sugarman's Blog about Rodriguez

Published below today at the following link on Sugarman's website:


http://sugarman.org/forum.html

Entry #:4175	Entry Date: 2013-03-09 18:37:22
Name:	Joy Leftow
When did you first discover Rodriguez?: The movie Searching For Sugarman
Where are you from?: Washington Heights, NYC
Visitor Comments: This music and of course Rodriguez, who created it has so much meaning for me, and I cried while listening and reading the lyrics. The point of why he wasn't famous? Think about it. The 70's were Donovan, and Dylan singing these type songs, but neither of them could turn a phrase like Rodriguez, a poet through and through. A few examples to bring my point home: I make 16 solid half hour friendships every evening give a medal to replace the son of Mrs. Annie Johnson I set sail in a teardrop and escaped beneath the doorsill or Genji taught Orion Sea-purple harmony While Kogi hit secrets into seashells And even the ocean laughed beneath that celestial canopy Rodriguez is the only one to make poetry inside his lyrics in this manner except for myself of course, and I felt he is a kindred spirit. I was so touched by the entire story and by his lyrics, I had to reach out to touch his burning embers because love comes in all colors. Below is another great lyric quote from Rodriguez:

"I opened the window to listen to the news but all I heard was the establishment blues"  Rodriguez from This is Not a Song, It's an Outburst: Or, The Establishment Blues.

Like myself, many people disliked Rodriguez's message because they felt his work was too sad. It took a long time, but Rodriguez has finally arrived world wide and like Rodriguez, I will find my South Africa too.

Random Energy

At night, my life’s energy burns through my skin. I try to sleep but fitfully wake up, kicking the covers off until the moisture dries, and cools me with tranquility. I toss nightly sleeplessly awakened by the pitter-patter of relentless rain dripping steadily on my A.C. The weather of my insight has changed. The days grow shorter, sun up to sun down, yet feel longer. The storms won’t abate. Although the wind is gone a steady rain remains like a leak in my heart. I’m bleeding out and can’t say when. Only it’s not blood, it’s the leaking of love and spinal fluids. I can’t hold them back. I know it’s going to rain again today.

I look out my window. In spite of the quiet, the rain falls like a silent cellophane sheet blanketing my world. Consumed by tireless passion I consider my options. As though hearing my thoughts, a breeze awakens outside my window whispering to me about the loss of his mother, Rainbow Warrior. I console and entreat him, “try again once more.”  He foreswears off the grain alcohol. Thunder and moonshine light up the sky.

Growing more isolated, observing puppets in the grander scheme of events, aspiring, trying, and expiring.

Out of sight out of mind.

He said, “You have bedroom eyes.”

I asked, “What does that mean?”

“They’re very sexy,” he said haltingly.

“How lame!” I exclaim, “at least you could comment on the color or say something about how the blue-green color is unusual.”

Wind whispers words only I can hear so I listen to see if I fear the answer.  My thoughts and the wind have moved on. I hear a car barking down the street. The sound of the city whistles and my ears ring.

The days pass in a swirl of appointments looking out at views through strange windows.

Stringing along, smiling and singing a song;

A pawn trying to escape with no superpowers or magic cape.

The moons gone astray and my mind's lost all day.

No one’s home minding the store.

I stay to finish, day after day, between four walls, closed in yet so far away.