Joy Leftow's Poetry Blog

I will overcome some day

2011-12-10T17:57:00.001-05:00

I sing misty blue for you today

Misty blue just for you today Daddy

Sing misty for you every day

Waiting to hear you say

You’re coming on home today

My life’s on hold – my mind strays

I see you in my mind’s eye drinking that Bombay Gin

Sitting alone in a Starbuck’s café

Knowing life plays me like a Violin

But I can’t stop myself from hoping there could be a better way

Please tell me you’ll always love me Daddy

The way you know that I love you

So please come on home to stay

My soul has turned misty like the weather before the storm

While it keeps playing the same old song

Play it in reverse today and tomorrow

Let me coerce you to come on home

Let your worries disperse

Things can’t get much worse

So come on home baby

We’re going to jam the night away and

play new music all day today Daddy

until the moon wanes in the sky and

the sun shines again today

Someday I will overcome all obstacles put in my way

Compression

2011-11-24T11:18:00.005-05:00

We laugh and make jokes about the stockings and me.

I say, “They’re holding me together.”

He says, questioning me as if I’m not telling the truth or maybe I don’t know, “They’re holding you together?”

“Yes, holding me together literally,” I repeat.

We both laugh hysterically hardly able to catch our breaths

bursting as though about to explode

We act like this is the first time we laughed at this.

Our laughter is like a rhyme held together by glue and impending time.

“They’re holding me together,” I repeat and again he repeats after me, “They’re holding you together, “ and again we laugh hysterically.

It is better to laugh than cry. Sometimes I cry and laugh at once because of the absurdity of life. Don’t try to anticipate the unexpected. It can’t work. It’s a joke on me just like my father before me. Tears stream and peals of laughter burst through at the same time. I laugh so hard I cry and cry so hard I laugh. Maintaining mirthfulness merriment helps me get by with a little help from my friends.

Life plays jokes while I dance through with songs in my head. The fatuity is not futility. I remain hopeful to a new cause. Each joke has its own device; No more criticizing –I pray that way – if I refrain so will they. One crazy white Jewish poet is one of the 99 percent – they’re moving everywhere, like a silent storm creating a new reality, I struggle to see the light, make wrongs right with the rest of the 99 percent.

I love how they squeeze me tight, expand my sight, I don’t fit it with the left or the right, helps me feel more strong & erect.

“They’re holding me together,” I tell my dentist.

My dentist replies, “It’s good for your circulation.”

Another friend asks, “Doesn’t it hinder your blood flow?”

“To the contrary,” I say, “They improve my blood flow.”

“The elastic band on the stocking’s top, I mean, doesn’t that cut off your blood flow?”

“I wear them all day – all night and they don’t bother me.

They’re keeping me together.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you wore pantyhose up to your waist?”

“No, my pelvis likes to breathe and be free,” I say, “I prefer these even if later in the day the elastic on top feels slightly tight but that’s only least ten hours at least. So soft tender cotton caresses my thigh.”

“Oh,” she replied, “If I had to wear them I’d wear the other kind.”

You have no idea I thought in my mind’s eye I didn’t say out loud.

“OK,” I say out loud, mind on overtime to report, create a retort resort to.

don high-quality blue workman’s gloves with smooth rubber fingertips and palms

I stretch and pull them, almost pure skintight up to my thighs.

My legs enjoy the ride. Umm… Umm.

Holding my craziness and me together forever whenever.

Compression…

Zuccotti Park & Occupy into month two - Links to use!

2011-11-06T14:04:00.020-05:00

I have worked hard at compiling this list and although some links are repetitive I have done that so that one doesn't have to begin new searches to find something to see the important things. You may wonder why is a poet interested in this. Much of my poetry focuses on the inequities in our society.

I am licensed clinical social worker and a double alumna of Columbia University. I attended Columbia in the Johnson era through the auspices of the Higher Education Program. I was admitted because I showed potential and fit the economic criteria and had been educationally disadvantaged. I was a single mom raising a child who had various disabilities and let me tell you - it ain't easy.

I too, was raised very poor. Mom had cancer and was left disabled after surgery and even though my dad worked he could never make enough to get us into a larger apartment. My dad, my mom, my brother, my two sisters and me all lived together in a one bedroom apartment and it was too tight.

Poverty is not noble. Other children made fun of the holes in my shoes and my limited wardrobe. I hand washed and ironed my own clothes at seven years old because my mother could not do it. She couldn't lift her right arm even to waist level because doctors had removed all of her muscle tissue along with lymph nodes. They did their best to help my mother live. She only wanted to survive to see her children grow and take care of themselves.

My dad was part of an immigrant family. At eleven years old he was forced to go work to help support his family. All my dad and his brother wanted to do - being the natural musicians that they were - was to be in vaudeville. They got to participate but they were not permitted to live artistically and were forced to ignore that part of themselves. They were forced to help support their families.

As a humanitarian and a humanist I see that things are getting even worse in many ways now. We poison our environments and habitats and it is permitted legally for big business to survive. So mostly what needs to change is that we must be here for each other and we must do things to benefit the greater whole of humanity not private enterprise. Fracking our water supply and denying the future consequences is not good. Promoting the use of oils and other expensive methods of energy are no longer necessary. We have the technology. Now we are back to the times in my childhood when it is becoming harder and harder to survive unless people know how to connive their way through the system to get more than they are supposed to. Now, more than ever, it is becoming harder to make a living support your family and to get an apartment to live. Many adults are forced to share and rent rooms. Many families join together to share rent on one bedroom apartments to survive.

I am fortunate to have a pension that I worked hard for plus my social security. I want to make certain that the planet and our children will survive along with the planet's many other sentient beings. It is clear that society is not protecting people or our planet. Government and private enterprise are interlocked. Can you imagine all the things that would not be done if those in charge truly took care of all of us the way we deserve to be? Someone asked me if I am a communist. No I am a humanist and I love my country and want it to be better for all of us. Meanwhile 99 percent of us suffer and try to make do and survive. It is not easy for any of us. That is why I consider myself one of the 99%.

Take your time to go through the links below and bookmark the ones you like.

These 3 links below are the official “occupy” links.

http://occupywallst.org/

http://occupytogether.com/

This following link is to the members of the Occupy Arts and Culture section. Anyone may join.
http://www.occupennial.org/

My published poem can be found here:
http://www.occupennial.org/poetry-and-spoken-word

Adbusters helped support and get the “occupy” movement started.
http://www.adbusters.org/blogs

Kevin Zeese is one of the original organizers in addition to being a lawyer. His blog is an invaluable resource and almost everything you need to know can be found here.
http://october2011.org/statement

Zeese’s listing of occupy events can be found at this link including the plan for June 2012 when all United States Occupiers will march and occupy Washington D.C:

http://october2011.org/blogs/kevin-zeese/99-are-standing-everywhere-occupy-together#comment-3036

Zeese also has a wonderful listing for media and Blogs to explore.
http://october2011.org/media

The site below is also a radio station and is one of the best sources of accurate information and news about occupy in addition to Zeese’s blog.

http://www.democracynow.org/

Another website new to me called velvet revolution is interesting.

http://www.velvetrevolution.us/newVR

More links to explore:

http://readersupportednews.org/

http://www.breakingcopy.com/occupied-wall-street-journal-issue-2-pdf

http://www.breakingcopy.com/category/news-journalism

Call to Action for Washington D.C. 2012

http://occupywallst.org/forum/a-call-to-action-2012/

http://notanalternative.com/

The Marines are coming:
http://www.in5d.com/occupy-wall-street-the-marines-are-coming-to-protect-the-protestors.html

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xlw0b7_marine-shamar-thomas-interview-on-nypd-brutality-towards-ows-protesters_news

Other newspapers or sites that maintain an alternative view and support occupy:

http://alternativenewsreport.net/2011/10/23/occupy-everywhere-demands-obamacare/students-in-iran-support-occupy-wall-street-protests_image-2/

http://www.alternet.org/

http://Credo.org

This site below is managed by Mike Palecek. He sends out regular emails and runs a radio interview show in addition to being a publisher. His email is Mike Palecek.
http://www.newamericandream.net/top_button_issue.html

More links to digest:
http://cromalternativemoney.org/index.php/en/media/news/nobel-winning-economist-supports-occupy-wall-street-protest.html

http://gothamist.com/

Below is an interesting and inspiring video. Israelis visit Syrian Border speaking out for peace ant social justice and change and peace between the two countries:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6x_p7Eksa0k&list=FLhEeHal1VUMF_wfXn001f3w&feature=mh_lolz

Another interesting movie available for free is “Shock Doctrine” by activist Naomi Wolf. Here is an interview with her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKr_soG4DUA

The entire movie can be seen here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFF_-BrmRWE

For a little levity and humor - you've got to see this video with Stephen Colbert visiting Zuccotti and later interviewing two people, Justin and Ketchup, who were chosen by the press group to represent the 99 percent. You will laugh and I think being able to laugh at ourselves sometimes is necessary.
http://occupywallst.org/forum/ketchup-and-justin-foil-colbert-optation/

An acquaintance of mine – knowing how sensitive I am about being Jewish told me the 99% are blaming everything on the Jews on Wall Street and Bolling of Fox 5 reported this. I have suffered a great deal of prejudice about my Jewishness my entire life, starting when I was a child and other children called me “Christ killer.” Do not believe this propaganda being fed to us to keep us separate and hating one another. I researched this piece of information and discovered that Bolling from Fox 5 did try to smear the Occupy Wall Street movement as anti-Semitic.

Abraham H. Foxman, national director of the Anti-Defamation League, responded to Bolling in the New York Times “that while there may have been incidents of anti-Semitism in the movement ‘they are not expressing or representing a larger view." Foxman stated, "the movement is not about Jews. ... It's about 'the economy, stupid.'"

http://mediamatters.org/blog/201110270001?frontpage

Having been to Zuccotti and attended many meetings and participated in many dialogues I can honestly report and assure any of you with doubts that in the many times and hours spent with the occupy movement I never experienced any type prejudice.

I am considering doing guided tours and spoke to the person in charge at the welcome desk and they actually need someone who is familiar with the site to do this. I plan to go again to make certain I know where everything is so I can take this position.

For the 99%, for art, for artists, for all. - Blog - A Poem by Joy Leftow

2011-10-20T13:43:00.001-04:00

For the 99%, for art, for artists, for all. - Blog - A Poem by Joy Leftow

I am proud the above poem was published by Occupennial Art Database for OccupyWallStreet artists and art actions.

Zuccotti Park & Occupy into week 4

2011-10-12T02:38:00.014-04:00

There's an excellent energy down at occupy wall street and finally demonstrators and occupying citizens are being taken seriously. No one goes hungry and even the homeless have joined them.

The first time I was there, I'd just lost my health insurance because my ex dropped me when he lost his job. We'd both signed our divorce stipulation where he'd agreed to cover me until the divorce. Without telling me anything then, he dropped me when he was fired from his job. I went down to the employee benefits board on Rector Street and explained my dilemma as a retiree. They agreed to reinstate me from the first of the month when I explained my concerns that I had seen several doctors that month already without realizing that I wasn't covered. After finishing I decided to walk about since I am rarely in that part of the city. I looked at the world trade center and decided to get a salad. After finishing my salad I looked out the window and saw there was a crowd in the square facing me.

Entering the square I looked around me and it seemed the park had been overtaken by homeless. I found myself standing next to a young lady with blond hair who appeared very business like. I started a conversation. "Are there a lot of homeless people who have moved into this park?" I asked, this only being day two of the occupy movement and not knowing anything.

The young woman who was dressed in a plain gray skirt and blouse with a jacket looked at me and laughed at my question. "We are demonstrating here," she said. "We're the 99 percent who have nothing because the 1 percent have it all. What better place to protest than here where it starts? I guess though to answer your question, there are many young people who can't get work and since they can't get work they figure they may as well get a head start with claiming a spot since pretty soon there's going to be a lot more of us homeless than before with degrees and all. So many have moved here so they have a place to be."

We discussed the possibility of a performance space since I always think about poetry and performance. I promised to research their since I liked what I heard. I hung out for several hours walking around and checking out the boobs which were nice to see and wrote down the website, occupywallstreet.com, intending to google it when I got home. Over the next few days I kept expecting to hear something on the news but it never happened. I decided to revisit and bring my poetry hoping there would be a performance space. And it just so happened that The People Staged was on when I got there. I signed my name and performed. The audience was great and there was no one drink minimum or entrance fee and they all screamed "encore!" For the first time in years I felt hopeful about our political state of mind. The country has turned into us the worker bees, being peons, and the big folk take everything we earn except leaving us enough to be strong enough to work for them.

Below are pics taken today.

Below is G. Wagner who displays his sign along with his art and support. Occupy Wall Street is inspiring artists.

David Everitt-Carlson
a homeless blogger getting his point across.

Good writing graffiti by homeless blogger.

We asked for change, we prayed for change, we looked for change but there's been very little.

Don't box us in. We need space and freedom to grow.

Don't give to the greedy, give to the needy - yes indeedy! We will overcome!

Jamming the day and night, to bring about peace and change. Occupy all day all week!

This man works as a home health aide but still has to live at a shelter. He works so doesn't qualify for health care or food stamps. When I told him about the "medicaid spend down" he had no clue what I was speaking of.

The smell of people, incense and pot permeated the air along with hopes and dreams.

Yom Kipper and Russian Bluetry

2011-10-08T15:08:00.012-04:00

Oh my father - please rest in peace - you never had any while you lived. A musically gifted prodigy forced to leave school behind to go to work everyday - forced to help support his family and still to this day, it irks me when I hear people say Jews are rich.

A musician who loved learning, a cruel joke in life - your entire life lived in fear - the world a dangerous place. Eleven years old - forced to leave school and work; you looked for places to recluse yourself inside your head you hid from the world by living in dreams where you played your violin instead.

Father I feel for you, a young boy told, "Son, we’re sorry but you have to help support your family. There are six of us,” his Dad said, “so you have to work to help pay the rent and buy the food we eat.”

Forced everyday to work in a drug store in Harlem and of your own device going to school at night so you could finish your Latin and math and be a real pharmacist not just an apprentice. You figured you’d get a pharmaceutical license if you finished your physics and math so you did it. By the time I was born you'd lost your focus trying to stay alive and support a wife and four children. Your temperament led to arguments with bosses. Then you gave up and stayed with the apprentice license even though you performed all the same tasks. You said you made medicines from scratch using Latin formulas.

One night you were forced to work late –ordered to close up all alone. That night there was a violent riot in Harlem- forced to work late. Climbing up high to a small hidden window near to the ceiling saved your life you said. Otherwise you would have been dead. A man outside the store lay dead while you waited inside until the noise in the street died. You waited over 10 hours you said, hidden behind a heavy black curtain in the storage room, wondering if you’d get out alive.

Terror and frustration created a monster inside who ate his way out of the hive and proved he was in charge. My Dad beat his first wife. The second was my mother who suffered greatly. She kept trying to stay alive to help her children survive. Her cancer ate her alive. Poor Dad gambled our money away and came home mean and exhausted. If got worse if she fought.

My two sisters, my brother, my Dad and my mother all crammed into a one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t too pleasant but I have a few good memories. Uncle Leo visited Dad every Sunday and they played their violins, sang tunes and lyrics they created and accompanied each other all day, showing each other what they'd learned and created.

Then Uncle Leo’s wife went off her rocker and was never the same again. Day after day, she chanted the same words, “They go to Argentina and they think they’re great!” referring to Jews who had escaped and Nazi's escaping the holocaust. Uncle Leo died when I was ten. Poor Dad went crazy too. His sisters and mother got him out of Bellevue by paying a fine of two and a half thousand. My father chased the doctor around with a knife, the doctor who’d removed my mother’s breast – my dad chasing him wielding a big butcher knife. He claimed the doctor was having an affair with my mom. Dad flipped out and never recovered either.

Poor Dad –never easy for you- your mother kvetching in Yiddish bragging about her dancing on the Russian Stage but how she gave it all up and left it behind so you could be born in America. Lucky for you – she had the foresight to see forty years ahead.

Poor Dad, working all day when all you wanted to do was be like your Dad who had accompanied your mom with his violin – the violin became yours. No one ever taught you to play but you played like a pro. Rest in peace Day - may you finally have the security and peace you longed for in life.

times are tough for the 99 %

2011-09-30T14:24:00.007-04:00

Help me go & speak to Obama for the 99% & you!

I'm a poor artist surviving on a pension & SS. I'm seeking donations to go Obama's dinner so I can break things down to him for how it is for the unprivileged. I would love to have an opportunity to explain how hard it is for us who will never own a home, for those of us who live right in the way of people fracking our water supply so that in several years probably half of us will be dead and those of us who survive will be diseased. I would definitely like an opportunity to voice my opinion. I want to tell Obama how it is everyone's basic right to have adequate medical care food and shelter.

I want him to know that the poor need an expansion of social welfare programs like we had in the Johnson era and that he needs to stop giving big pay outs to people on Wall Street, that he needs to follow President Roosevelt's tactics when it come to taxing the very wealthy because the poor can no longer shelter everything plus pay for everything the rich want.

No one can afford their own apartment anymore. Where are people to go?
There's no jobs and what about the man who makes 23000 and has 3 young children and a wife? He pays taxes and can barely pay the rent.
Things are rough all around for the 99 percent.

For the first times in years - spending some time with the 99% in Zocotti Park and participating in their activities and sharing their space, I feel hopeful that sometime in my lifetime there will be change and more equitable distribution of resources, jobs, money for food medical care for working poor. I haven't felt this hopeful in years.

I even got to hang out with Uncle Eddie & Robin which was great fun. Robin said they'd traveled from West Virginia to be with their brothers and sisters. Uncle Eddie even accompanied me with his banjo when I performed the following poem. Very cool people.

Billie’s Consumerism Blues

What I find crazy is that none of this is being reported in the news. I mean why should we know that a grass roots organization has moved into a park on Wall Street or that this same grass roots population has the same type demonstrations going on in at least 50 more cities.

Yesterday at occupywallstreet.com I was surprised to learn that this occupation is going on in other cities simultaneously and somehow miraculously this news is being kept from our citizenry.
I was really happy to be there today and see so much going on. They even had a performance corner which I participated in which was great fun.

A lot of solidarity permeates the air!

Check the link below at Kevin Zeese's blog to see exactly where and spread the word everywhere to everyone you know:

occupy occupy occupy
This is a great blog for disseminating information.
http://october2011.org/blogs/kevin-zeese/99-are-standing-everywhere-occupy-together

Celebrities Susan Sarandon and Michael Moore visit Zucotti park

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2042317/Occupy-Wall-Street-Michael-Moore-joins-protesters-New-York.html

Above is a profile of Uncle Eddie and below is Robin.

And here's Robin, his cohort in crime!

occupy wall street all day all week is the chant you hear!

My first short film is now online: "Toss up and Sides again"

2011-09-25T11:48:00.001-04:00

Ben Hopper filmed his first short film - check it out! Shot over a period of 2 days using a Canon 5D Mark II during the 18th Israeli Juggling Convention in Gan HaShlosha (Israel) back in April this year.

My first short film is now online: "Toss up and Sides again"

We Are the 99 Percent

2011-09-22T22:45:00.001-04:00

We Are the 99 Percent

Misunderstandings

2011-09-21T13:30:00.008-04:00

Nurtured with contempt instead of acceptance I came to understand that contempt was what I deserved. A world filled with maladjusted tendencies, constrained to a room, one of many to come. Three beds stood in our one bedroom with two side-by-side windows with deep sills that faced a wide open schoolyard that ran the entire width of our square city block.

Six of us lived in a one bedroom walk up gratefully situated on the first floor of a five story red brick building. There were two graceful entrances to the left and right of the main courtyard surrounded by well tended shrubbery.

In our one bedroom there was a double bed plus two singles side by side against the wall, facing outwards so that all of our feet directly faced each other. The two single beds pushed together were mine and the middle sister's. The double bed on the opposite side facing ours was occupied by my eldest sister, Georgette, and my mother.

My bed was closest the window and Harriet's bed was pushed alongside mine, the heads pushed against the wall. There was only a few feet of space left to walk between the four beds. I spent a lot of time in bed. That was where I did my homework, read for hours and dreamed away the hours.

My favorite part of weekends and mostly all I looked forward to was the ability to stay late in bed gazing at the sky. If my sisters came in or my mother I would climb on the window sill behind the curtain where they could not watch me and I could imagine I was alone with my dreams of clouds constructing lives of gods and goddesses while I instructed them on how to play nice with one another to have a good time.

I never did fit it with anybody, especially in first through third grades. Children made fun of me. A girl name Ruth told me she and her friend were going to get dressed up and have a lollipop party and everyone was invited. Did I want to go? I looked in Ruth’s face feeling suspicious of their niceness I felt trapped but didn’t know why. I nodded yes. “Sucker,” they yelled gleefully laughing hysterically, whilst staring into each others eyes, they danced away arm in arm. I stared after them.

I sing misty blue for you today

2011-09-15T16:03:00.003-04:00

Misty blue just for you today Daddy

Sing misty for you every day

Waiting to hear you say

You’re coming on home today

My life’s on hold – my mind strays

I see you in my mind’s eye drinking that Bombay Gin

Sitting alone in a Starbuck’s café

Knowing life plays me like a Violin

But I can’t stop wondering and hoping
That there's a better way

Please tell me you’ll always love me Daddy

The way you know that I love you

The way you know that I love you

Please please come on home to stay

My soul has turned misty like the
weather before the storm

While it keeps playing the same old song

Play it in reverse today and tomorrow

Let me coerce you to come on home

Let your worries disperse

Things can’t get much worse

So come on home baby

We’re going to jam the night away
and play new music all night long
till the dawn lights up the sky Daddy

The weather of my insight has changed.

2011-09-11T00:47:00.003-04:00

The days grow shorter sun up to sun down yet they feel longer. I toss nightly sleeplessly awakened by the pitter patter of rain on my A.C. Relentlessly the same way every day like the A.C. upstairs at the Medina’s drips steadily down on top of mine. The storms won’t abate. Although the wind is gone a steady rain remains like the 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 and I can’t hold them back. I know it’s going to rain again today.

I look out the window. Quiet yet in spite of the quiet the rain falls like a silent cellophane sheet blanketing my world. Consumed by tireless passion I consider my options on how to avoid contact with the world. As though hearing my thoughts a breeze awakens outside my window whispering to me about the loss of his mother, the rainbow warrior. I console us and entreat him to try again.

He foreswears off the grain alcohol and thunder and moonshine light up the sky.

The wind is my friend. He whispers words only I hear so I listen again 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 pain in the crook of my arm keeps me alive. I google ‘pain in crook of arm’ to see what I can find. It’s described as some weird tendonitis. Ice as usual oh my. Shouldn’t I know that already?

I google group venus astrology. My astrology tells me “Avoid pessimism and don’ t retreat into yourself. You must expand psychologically and seek new experiences.”

Story of my life…

Onwards to new adventures!

What am I waiting for…

The Only One

2011-09-08T13:25:00.000-04:00

I thought about you and watched videos of us inside of me. I sat and cried for what I thought we’d had but slowly over the next year I realized our life was recreated from a fantasy of what I desired from you. In my mind the dream I’d created of who you are became real. Slowly over time you proved to me again and again that the dream was a fantasy. Being subjected to your unrelenting anger and sarcasm was nothing new. What became new was now I saw the things you did for what they are. You proved that I never possessed the dream I desired. You proved that I only see things the way I want to see them. I went back in time in my mind rearranging the pieces of our lives. I had never wanted to see you for who you are so I created the man I hoped to find. Picking through the events in time now I see I saw you, as I wanted you to be. You were always the way I see you now but I refused to see who you were when we were together. To survive I lived a fantasy.

Living in dreams enriches my life but there is the comedown when I realize it’s only a dream, a rich fantasy about how I want things to be but not the way they really are. Everyone I see is colored through whatever lens I am wearing that day. I live in bright-distorted colors of varying shades and intensities. Blue is rarely true blue and it is in my nature to stay true to myself. I am fickle. I change colors.

My sad is midnight blue yet I keep trying to see stars peeking through. Green seeps through me helping me keep in touch with nature yet I’m streaked with red where I’ve been led astray by envy or anger. My lust puts a golden dust on the dawn. It’s all I see when I’m in love, like being trapped in a lovely crystal ball with gold dust all around. It ends with releasing blood ties at season’s end; the red turns shades of yellow and orange, where I struggle with my faith in mankind. I’m ready to begin again. My color is aqua. I become a shade of royal plum. Like the Aegean Sea I float in the arms of eternity searching for the right you to understand me.
After the gold dust settles pastels show me like a misty savior heading towards threatening seas to rescue them from the dark. Colors shift from dawn to dusk inside of me as I rearrange my life accordingly with a party cake pink; a perpetual continuity lives inside of me as I struggle with the colors. They consume me. I realize I’m not the only one who can’t escape so I pray for us all instead.

I recycle the stories in my head and see they are all the same. The names change but the stories remain the same. After some time telling stories, the men run into each other knocking each other down because they don’t watch where they’re running. After a few stories I realize it doesn’t matter who did what. It’s like any one of them could have been in any of my stories doing the same things the other one did. The faces and names become interchangeable. They blur together and become one. For God’s sake it’s the same old stories with new and different faces.

LIFE JUST GOT BETTER

2011-09-05T12:27:00.006-04:00

It’s ok I said, I been there too

I understand where you’re coming from

Just show me the dotted line and

I’ll be ready to sign

I promise I’ll make no demands

For alimony or child support

My life’s worth more than you could ever pay

The gun trained on my face

I heard the click

And saw him pull the trigger back

Imagine the surprise on his face when we

Still stood eye to eye

the bullet jammed in the chamber

My life handed to me on a silver

platter that day I understand now

But for the mercy of God

I’d be dead not just broke

Lucky not to succumb to a bullet that day

I said show me that dotted line

I know when it’s time to sign and give in

Because I’ll never get nothing from you

except a hard way to go

You never liked sharing anyway

so I’m glad to let you know

I’m glad to see you go

I want you to know

I’m glad you know

I don’t need you to have my own

I had my own before you were born

no - please don’t interrupt

you misunderstand

I said it's ok go with your government job

and all your big benefits

It’s ok if you refuse to share

I swear I don’t care

I’ll sign it all away to you

as long as you let me go my own way

I'll sign that dotted line

I swear I will

I’m not giving in to death yet –

it’s premature to date

please don’t make me

leave my son motherless

Hand me a pen

I’m willing ready and able to bend

I’ll sign on that dotted line

I absolve you from all your future debts to me

Please let me go by the grace of God

Thank God I’m not dead

Here I go I got a pen in my hand

I’m ready to sign on that dotted line

The surprise registered in your lifted brows

as you pulled the trigger

and stared me dead in the eye

no remorse for what you planned to do

An eye for an eye you quoted

so bang you’re dead gone in the wink

of an eye and you winked at me

we thought it was for one last time

certainly for me I thought this is the last wink I’ll ever see

Pulled the trigger in the blink of an eye

A gleeful smile on your no mercy for the bitch face

A New York City minute changes life

when you saw no bullet had emerged from the chamber

no bullet came clambering through

no bullet went through me and

by the mercy of God I still stand here before thee

So let me be me and I’ll allow you to be free of me

Free from all my demands you could no longer stand

that made you be so cruel to me

Now I’m ready to sign on the dotted line as long as you’ll let me be

Yes I’m ready to sing there’s a song in my heart

Glory Hallelujah I'm so glad I survived
I'm so blessed to be alive

money ain’t mean nothing to me I’ll give it all up to stay alive

I got a song in my heart so glad to be alive

Infidels

2011-08-23T19:23:00.004-04:00

Disappointed in man’s inhumanity to man,

I live each day like it’s my last

Time moving so fast

Everywhere I turn, someone new is hurt.

Living on the edge of despair striving to stay afloat and hold on to my hope.

It’s all I’ve got left.

I bide my time and wait behind closed curtains in love with a perfect life gorging

on dreams of a different world where everyone’s my brother.

I turn on the evening news in time to hear the brother speak,

the one who killed his brother’s wife last week,

He says she was just no damn good anyway.

He knew for sure because she used to be his wife.

She disappeared around the same time he was convicted of killing her.

He said, "I already served my time for killing her,

you see it’s called double jeopardy

and they can’t charge me twice for the same crime.

Thank God I got rid of the no good bitch once and for all

She can't do this to no one else no more."

The scene switches to the crazy Jewish guy in the orange jumper

the one who tortured the little Jewish boy then dismembered him.

They caught him abducting the boy on one of those street cameras

It’s enough of a dose of TV to last several days.

I try to decide what I can do about man’s inhumanity to man

I bring it all home. The buck has to stop somewhere.

I examine my life in a whirlwind of thoughts to discover

I’m trapped in a medieval prison where I’m tormented the same way

every day and still can’t learn how to escape.

Man’s inhumanity to man makes me suffer.

I envision a day it will be different.

Julio examines my planet’s positions.

He declares that now I’m full of romanticism.

I told him that no he’s wrong that now I obsess on man’s inhumanity to man.

African and east European towns there are wars and bombs in the middles east.

Women raped daily, life disrespected as a matter or course.

I don’t know what to do. Where has my romanticism fled.

Searching my mind for a better place in time I reassess the layout.

A perfect place is hard to find.

It won’t matter where I go so I decide to sit this one out

and work on creating a better space inside myself.

I go inside and look around to find a better place and instead sit

Here today and gone tomorrow
I sit and cry and pray every day for a better world someday.

20 Essential Chinese Novels Plus Other tidbits

2011-08-22T18:23:00.005-04:00

20 Essential Chinese Novels | Bachelor's Degree Online

These are worth a look with a contemporary and classical mix.

One of my personal favorites not listed here is the Buddhist Tale of Monkey King with drawings and text.

Below is an abbreviated story line to the famous work, "Monkey King", known to the Chinese as "Journey to West",written by Wu Ch'eng-en (1500?-1582), a scholarly-official, is one of the renowned classical Chinese story about an allegorical rendition of the journey, mingled with Chinese fables, fairy tables, legends, superstitions mixed with popular beliefs, and includes stories about the Taoist and Buddhist religions. It was based on a true story of a famous Chinese monk, Xuan Zang (602-664). After years of trials and tribulations, he traveled on foot to what is today India, the birthplace of Buddhism, to seek for the Sutra, the Buddhist holy book. When he returned to China or the Great Tang as was called that time, he began to translate the sutras into Chinese, thus making a great contribution to the development of Buddhism in China. Monkey King is an indeed rebellious extraordinary being, born out of a rock and fertilized by the grace of Heaven. A being extremely smart and capable, he learns all the magic tricks and gongfu from a master Taoist and is able to transform himself into seventy-two different images such as a tree, a bird, a beast of prey or a bug as small as a mosquito to enable him to sneak into an enemy's belly to fight him inside or out. Using clouds as a vehicle he can travel 180,000 miles in a single somersault and he wields a huge iron bar that serves as ballast of the seas and can expand or shrink at his command. This becomes his favorite weapon in his later battles. He claims to be the king in defiance of the only authority over heaven, the seas, the earth and the subterranean world -- Yu Huang Da Di, or the "Great Emperor of Jade" in Chinese. To declare himself as emperor is an act of high treason, coupled with complaints from the masters of the four seas and the hell, he invites the relentless scourge of the Heavenly army.
After many showdowns,the emperor offers the monkey an official title to appease him. Enraged he revolts, fighting his way back earth to resume his claim of his own kingdom after learning that the position he held was nothing but that a stable keeper. Eventually, the heavenly army subdues him after many battles and with the help of all the god warriors.
Having a bronze head and iron shoulders, all methods of execution fail and the monkey man dulls all swords used upon him. As a last resort, the emperor commands that monkey king be burned in the furnace where his Taoist minister Tai Shang Lao Jun refines his pills of immortality. Instead of killing him, the fire and smoke add fiery golden crystal eyes that can see through what people normally can not. He frees himself and fought his way down again. Finally, with Buddha's help the monkey was suppressed under a great mountain known as the Mount of Five Fingers and could no longer move. Five hundred years later, ,the Tang Monk, Xuan Zang, came to his rescuer.
The Monkey King became the disciple of the monk and escorst him to insure that he could bring the sutras to the west. He travels with two other disciples, actually also arranged by the Buddha. Here begins the four's stormy journey west which is packed with actions and adventures that brought into full play the puissance of the monks' disciples, the Monkey King in particular.
The story of Journey to the West is divided into three parts: (1) an early history of the Monkey spirit; (2) pseudo-historical account of Tripitaka's family and life before his trip to fetch the sutras in the Western Heaven; (3)the main story, consisting of 81 dangers and calamities encountered by Tripitaka and his three animal spirit disciples - Monkey, Pigsy, and Sandy. The average readers are fascinated with the Monkey King, all prowess and wisdom, while many critics agree that the protagonist embodies what the author tried to convey to his readers: a rebellious spirit against the then untouchable feudal rulers. This story has the appeal of the ages with its moral thrust and pictures.

Adapted from HaiWang Yuan, Western Kentucky University

On another note keeping in the Chinese vein, yesterday I visited Chuang Yen Monastery in Carmel NY where after some meditation I received the gift of books and shared lunch with the monks. Here are some photos.

Below are people giving the service to keep up the grounds.

They call this the temple of a thousand Buddhas for a reason - you think?

Bracelet Four - A Renaissance

2011-07-29T22:49:00.004-04:00

Walking down Bleeker towards McDougal Street in a cold rain on February 14th I kept my head down and my eyes trained on the street we were about to cross. Traffic was moving at a crawl pace because it was Valentines Day and an early Saturday evening when the Village would be normally crowded.
There were less people around than usual but that didn’t make me sad. What did make me sad was my boyfriend who said he was quote, taking me down here to have a good time but first he wanted to buy me a present of something I liked.
“What?” I said surprised. Sandy didn’t usually take the initiative unless there was good music involved which I had nothing against either.
On a roll he continued, “I figured we’d make a night of it. First we get you some pretty silver earrings, sorry but twenty-five’s the limit, oh ok sorry thirty’s it. I’m not rich and you’re my girl and I want to do something special for you and pay for it all too. After the earrings we’ll for a bite to eat and be ready for Buddy Guy at the Lone Star at eight.”
My mouth gaped for and I tried to prevent myself gushing all over him.
And now here we were, an hour and a half later and we still couldn’t get past the first part of the adventure. Time was moving fast and the show was at eight and it was already 6:45.
“Don’t worry,” he said reading my mind. “There’s still plenty of time. I know this little place over on McDougal.”
I began considering my life and feeling depressed that I would never meet a man who really understood me. He had made a good try, but obviously he couldn’t pick out anything I’d possibly even think was halfway attractive – even though he was mostly very smart and had fine choices in movies and music and interesting introspections that made me consider art I wouldn’t normally pay attention to. It seemed my life’s search to find a partner and mate seemed hazardous at best and mostly pretty hilarious.
We were about to cross against the light when I spied gold glinting in the pale streetlight through the fog and haze of the rainy night. I spied a car moving slowly towards me through the drizzle. I decided to make a run for it and run I did. Holding my hand up high as though I were a crossing mistress at the schoolyard I lithely pranced across the wet street bent over momentarily holding my right hand high while with my left I swiped the golden object off the wet pavement and wrapped it close in my fist continuing my run to the other street side of the street where I awaited my surprised boyfriend who was trying to please me and so not. I was starting to soak through my shoes, my hair hung limply and my mascara was running. I hadn’t yet examined the object clutched in my fist. My heart was beating fast and my breathing had sped up from my short sprint. The adrenaline rush moved me.
“So what is it?” he nagged. Or at least I felt nagged. “I suspect it must be something valuable,” he continued fluidly, “for you to take a chance on your life like that on such a dim night running into traffic against a light.” He paused for a breath too. “Well are you going to open your hand and let me see or not?”
My breath slowed and I answered. “I guess we’ll have to see it together for the first time because I have no idea what I picked up only that it glowed golden in the pale streetlight.”
I opened my fist and the bracelet glowed like it had a halo. I inspected it and there was miraculously no damage. Passersby looked at us. I closed my fist.
“Hey I said, I’ll show it to you at home. It looks like may be valuable and I don’t think it’s a good idea to show off out here. I don’t want end up some statistic.”
“Yeah,” he said agreeing. “You’re right. We can look at it at home.”
I kept this watch for thirty years even though the man I’d been with when I found it had long ago moved on. Sometimes I looked at it to examine the handwork and beauty. I had the watch fitted a gold safety chain to make certain I wouldn’t lose it but then it looked too rich for me. I like to wear silver plus I’m not particularly crazy about watches although the band was definitely a wide band bracelet. I obsessed about how much an 18-karat gold watch would be worth according to the price of gold. Hand worked with etchings it looked like something one might find at an estate sale. The clock said 17 jewels and Argentina. It weighed near to 3 ounces. I thought maybe I’d leave it to a family member since it seemed a waste to sell it.
This year, when I decided to put down ceramic floors and retile my bathroom. I sold the gold watch. At first I was disappointed. The dealer insisted the watch be popped out. He had no interest in the watch’s hand carved beauty or that the band was hand etched in three colors gold or that the watch had 17 jewels. Plus I had to pay to have the watch popped out or he wouldn’t buy. His female clerk examined the bracelet. "So old fashioned," she said, "Time to melt it down."
After all was said and done I ended up with one thousand twenty seven dollars. Not bad for a Valentines Day random find on Bleeker Street thirty years ago on a cold rainy winter night.

Author’s note: There are three other bracelet stories written over thirty years ago. This one was written currently.

Let’s get it together

2011-07-02T01:55:00.007-04:00

Are you ready yet Daddy
Com’on now don’t be late again
Com’on now Daddy don’t keep me waiting
I’m like a cat caught in a tailspin sitting on a pin
Just say when - I’m ready in the flick of a red crow’s feather
The smell of blue heather a little sandalwood
some sage wood delight
Come on Daddy get ready
Let’s do up the town tonight
Please hurry Daddy and get yourself together
Get ready and don’t be late
This is a one time date don’t leave this one up to fate
Don’t be coming late now cause fate and I
won’t wait on anyone tonight
Com’on Daddy let the good times roll
Come on Daddy let’s get down tonight with a little bit of soul
Let’s get down tonight in the bare moonlight
Beneath a starry lit sky
Oh oh my if you're on time tonight Daddy you’re gonna see
Everything’s gonna be alright
If you’d only get out’a bed get ready to get together
and let’s do the town up right tonight Daddy

Randall Radac aka John Lee Brook has a new book!

2011-06-23T22:47:00.008-04:00

Posting below is a short interview with Randall Radac who has had poetry and art published in The Cartier Street Review.

http://www.headpress.com/ShowProduct.aspx?ID=96

Available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble is the best price. Amazon wants more than the price of the book to ship it.

JL: How did you came to write this book?

RR: After meeting some members of the Aryan Brotherhood in jail, I observed they are fascinatingly violent people with almost magnetic personalities. I decided to write a book about them after doing some research and discovering very little had been published about them.

JL: Radac, how bout some spice on this latest publication?

RR: The book is written under my pen name, John Lee Brook and it takes a close look at a White Supremacist Gang. The FBI has says, “In for life and out by death”, the Aryan Brotherhood known as “The most ferocious and notorious of any of the prison groups.”

As an ex-convict in close contact with the Aryan Brotherhood I've written a devastating exposé, revealing how the notorious white supremacist prison gang has become perhaps the most powerful criminal organization in America, an achievement much more remarkable considering that the majority of its members remain behind bars, and its infamous Commission—the folkloric threesome, Thomas ‘Terrible Tom’ Silverstein, Tyler ‘the Hulk’ Bingham and Barry ‘the Baron’ Mills—are kept in maximum-security solitary confinement, as the US government makes an open effort to subdue the organization by any means necessary.doctorradic@msn.com

JL: Any other little blurb, RR?

Yes, despite government efforts to curtail them, the Aryan Brotherhood continues to thrive. My book Blood In, Blood Out demonstrates how a combination of Machiavelli, Nietzsche, meditation, secret codes, brutal violence and sheer will enable its buried puppet masters to continue to tug at the strings of an organization at the forefront of the black market trade in drugs, arms and money laundering. In Blood In, Blood Out, John Lee Brook provides both an extensive overview of the Aryan Brotherhood and a thrilling look at its untold recent history.

About the Author:
John Lee Brook’s study of the white supremacy movement has led him to strange places, where he met hard men with strange beliefs. Blood In, Blood Out: The Violent Empire of the Aryan Brotherhood (Headpress Publishing/June 2011) is his first book about white supremacy.

Publisher: Headpress, June 2011
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1900486776
ISBN-13: 978-1900486774

To contact RR, write: johnleebrook@hotmail.com or doctorradic@msn.comjohnleebrook@hotmail.com

automatic redirecting

2011-06-05T14:11:00.000-04:00

is anyone out there having a problem with automatic browser direction?

Is there a way to fix it?

Hee llll ppppppppppppppppppp

HelPppppppp

Top Poetry Blogs 2011 & recommended poems for newcomers

2011-06-02T15:21:00.011-04:00

Today traveling the internet and checking my statcounter I noted several people came from these links below - two new listings and awards for best poetry blogs of 2011.

Wow - I'm so honored - two 2011 poetry awards from Online Schools and Online Associates Degrees.

Yippee!

I'm grateful to the universe and my readers to be recognized for my poetry and writings.

I really like Online Associates Degrees little critique of my blog too so here it is for you:

JOY LEFTOW'S POETRY BLOG: Poetry reviews, along with original modern poetry works in a unique tone. Contemporary poetry reigns here!

For anyone here for the first time I recommend these poems below. You can click on each poem to be read the poem.

Spot Of Bleach

Tupelo Honey

Dead Long Ago

Twisted, A Sestina Of Love

I Sing The Blues For You Today

Heroes & Superstars - My Bob Dylan Story (All true too!)

Where Did The Day Go

History Of Becoming An Editor at TSCR & Bernard Alain

2011-05-31T14:11:00.005-04:00

I first met Bernard Alain September 2008, when he wrote me asking to publish one of his poems in TSCR. I was so punch pleased – this really doesn’t happen too often. Many people may tell me my work affects them and that definitely fuels my drive to write, but very few publishers write me telling me they want to publish me.

It is very difficult for nutsy and different me to get published. You know how they always say you should look at a mag before you submit. So I always look and I see crazy shit on some sites so I figure maybe they’ll like my crazy shit too so I send it off and usually what happens 7 out of 10 times I get a polite reject. “We love the intensity but no, not for us.” Or “Powerful writing and word choice but no.” It’s very hard out here for a poet.

Bernard provided refreshing respite from all this – (Please take me away from all this, Bernie!)

After Bernards initial online request to publish me he asked me for more work. After several months I offered a review. After about a year, I asked Bernard if I could help on the magazine and had several ideas how to do this; start a facebook group, look for art and feature artists alongside poets and writers, and I wanted him to put the issue up at Issuu where readers could click through the pages. He accepted and we implemented these changes. July 2009 was the last issue Bernard and I published together although he insisted that I make all choices for that issue. He did the layout. January 2010, Bernard said he could no longer be editor and I became principal editor of TSCR.

Please editors, feel free to follow Bernard’s example, if you like anyone’s work or mine – go straight to the source and ask them (or me – pretty please) for it.

Bernard Alain has been published and/or featured in a few online journals recently such as the Orange Room Review, Madswirl, Pirene's Fountain, Mississippi Crow Magazine/RiverMuse Press, International Poet, The World Poets Society Electronic Catalog, Bywords, Bywords Quarterly Journal, Smoking Book and others with an upcoming publication in Wood Coin. He is former editor and founder of the poetry journal, The Cartier Street Review, now edited by Joy Leftow and staff.

Bernard believes expression should not be inhibited by form and reflect honestly, though enjoying a wide scope of appreciation for the many shapes the art provides, it is a personal mandate of his to increase readership for contemporary poetry by encouraging more organically formed and conversational text that reacts to and captures everyday events. He is the founder of two online sites, 'The Ink Blot' and The Cartier Street Review. Poets and artist may submit contemporary art and poetry to the inkblot for feedback. TCSR has a rolling open submissions for publication.

About the book
The book is collection of poems sharing the moods of a budding poet dealing with an overly pregnant online community, from the initial inspiration to burial and fossilization, a humorous edge that journalizes the sad reality for most poets.

Buy the book Mammoth Bones & Contemporary Beef by Bernard Alain here and the review I wrote in archives is here.

Joy Leftow's Poetry Blog: The eye in my sky is crying - bluetry16

2011-05-30T18:47:00.001-04:00

Joy Leftow's Poetry Blog: The eye in my sky is crying - bluetry16

Stormy Weather

2011-05-29T14:32:00.012-04:00

Crying like the weather, a state of mind
Dewdrops run through my heart
Laying claim to devastated waste I make haste and relent to God I repent
Distaste for the same old songs playing in my head
Discarding old wrongs I fight to make wrongs right
Rewriting history I can’t undo the past

Stormy weather holds us together
Destroys my universe fighting to survive bad weather
Putting a distance between me and the storm
The hurricane inside about to explode
Another year another storm
Drinking wine to kill the pain of sitting and waiting for some new snazzy tune
To break through the gloom in an icy room where I sit here
Waiting for the storm to end
Wait to see a bright new sunny day not too far away

Sky aglow an orange gold sunset strives to stop my pain
Dream of tranquility in the midst of war
Extinguished like vapor dreams of restoring a universe of possibilities
I reach out to touch the receding dream becomes a lost memory of happiness
Defeat is feeling like there’s nothing left to lose

A little conversation some music some wine you agree not to hurt
My kind heart enables you to unwind like
Stuck in an underground surreal film waiting on a round of drinks that will never come –
I visualize escape from lost causes, each new struggle another angle
Of seeing the wind writing – I long to stay strong

I want a little tenderness in a dimly lit room by the light of the silvery moon
our bodies a solitary silhouette,
I want a restful haven where I can live in a world of my making

Delight in a morning lit sky with pink and turquoise gazing at a bright white opalescent moon can’t rearrange my mind and I try to remember what I’m doing here
as I sit on the edge of my bed hypnotized by the silver white moon
Contemplate a day when the whole world waits
together by the edge of a clear running brook stream forever

I want a quiet place where rainbows appear after brutal rainfall
A place where dreams can sustain me as I relish the moment
a simple warm and friendly place where I’m unafraid to go

Defenders of Wildlife: Save Polar Bear Homes

2011-05-24T17:09:00.004-04:00

Call the president today and speak your mind. I've done so before but I never gotten to talk to two people before.

Let me explain.
Being that I have very little money to give to charitable organizations and causes, I spend some time each week signing petitions to make my voice heard about issues I am concerned about. I spend at least 2 hours a week doing this but sometimes 2 or 3 times this much and as many as 6 to 8 hours a week.

My time is Government given - nah that's joke.
My time is God Given so every tasty morsel that I give of my time - is the most valuable commodity I have to give.

I urge those of you who can to make an effort to donate whatever you're able to of your time to help the voices of others who need to be heard. Give of your time to sign off on petitions and write letters on their behalf to government officials here and overseas. There are many beings around the world suffering right now either due to stupidity, war, acts of revenge or acts of nature.

There are many situations where sentient beings are continuing to be hurt sometimes due to combinations of ignorance and prejudice. People are made outcastes as a result of whoever they are or their beliefs - I want cruelty and revenge to end. Cruelty is not acceptable and has to stop with me.

I aim to be self observant above all and call myself to task.

grrr off with the tangents - back to the telephone call to President Obama-

I explained to the "first lady" that I was "Joy Leftow from New York City and I'm calling to urge the President to..." was as far as I got. First Lady said, "Hold on a minute, there's a special line to leave your message." and I expected to be taped on a answering machine which has happened before or the phone rings and rings or I get a message advising me to call another day instead.

Instead lady number two answered and said, "hello," and identified herself as "presidents desk for ...".

I dunno.

I was so flabbergasted to hear a human voice, I didn't catch a few words or perhaps combined with my silly hearing problem I couldn't understand what she said but somehow I knew it was my turn to speak my piece. Lady two didn't ask me to identify myself but I did anyway.

Hi," I said, "I'm Joy Leftow from New York City and I 'm calling to urge the President to protect the Artic National Wildlife Refuge from oil and gas development infringing on an animal refuge.

She said,"Ok, anything else."

I continued, "The president should spend more money on development of alternative energy sources to help our planet remain a place for our species to survive because as things are now humanity will die out in a couple of hundred years the way we keep abusing our planet.

I want the president to know that I think it is important for us to explore more viable sources such as wind and solar combined so we no longer need to use oil.

She said, "Just a minute please. ... OK, is there anything else you'd like to tell Mr. President?"

I couldn't believe it - She actually let me say what I wanted to say and was willing to let me talk more if I wanted to. She seemed to have difficulty keeping up - maybe she was taking notes or doing steno or only trying to write as best and fast as she could.

DEFENDERS OF WILDLIFE
Urge President Obama to Permanently Protect the Arctic Refuge

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge -- a national treasure that polar bears, arctic foxes, millions of migratory birds and other wildlife depend on for survival.

To celebrate this special occasion, thousands of people from across the country are calling on President Obama to permanently protect this unique national treasure and the wildlife that depend on it to survive.

Please call President Obama today at (202) 456-1414 and deliver this simple message:

My name is [YOUR NAME] and I’m calling from [YOUR STATE] to urge you to permanently protect the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge from oil and gas development. The Arctic Refuge is a unique national treasure that is one of the most important onshore denning habitats for our struggling polar bears. It is also home to America’s largest caribou herd, arctic foxes and millions of migratory birds. Please do all you can to protect this fragile and special place.