Monday, August 31, 2009

An Embrace of the Heart

...makes all the difference in the souls journey to it's highest potential, With all of the many "words" I have written in song, prose, scribe & scribble, I am forever awestruck by one singular simple truth with every one of these expressions; it is never enough. The human heart and all it's complexities bewilders humanity enough to run from itself into a lack of authenticity. My fault is, through all of my own bewildering experiences, I have been constantly running against the flow of the excepted path. Rather choosing to run to myself whenever in the world I could find my last breadcrumb and steal it from the waves of life which were amused in washing my trail away. As irony would have it, I would be gifted with authenticity as a direct result of this upstream journey. Others craving authenticity are attracted to it and I cannot help but give it away for it really isn't mine but universal truth. The difference we can make to someone else, makes all the difference in the world of possibilities. It is the difference hope makes. It is the difference between a choice of life or death, love or hard neglect. We are warm and held up by everything we are given by those who embrace us truly. To lose my footing now was like a gift in a strange way, for an encouraging soulful embrace has prompted my response to these things, which otherwise would not have been written.. Having the faith of a friend is a treasure and a responsibility in equal measure. To express the imagery here feels like an excavation in my attempt. The treasure, you hold close and deeply while working to be worthy of it. The embrace is the key that unlocks the piece of hope that says you already are worthy of it. Music has the ability to translate these emotions as nothing else does. But even music cannot take the place of an embrace of the heart. This was in fact the missing link in my discovery in my engagement on this earth. The one thing that makes everything I hear matter to me. To feel my heart embraced. It happens to many who tend to give too much away misguidedly loving and reaching out for that that one thing not even knowing what that one thing is. It is what every single person wants and needs to survive and thrive well and nobody even knows it consciously, To be embraced in their heart. I feel as if I have been given a great secret, a mystery solved. This is singing to me now with all the intention and passion it inspires. I can hear music in everything, from the noises in the street, the wind in the trees, in water and even in the way I can feel the very heartbeat as I am endeared to someone. But I have never heard music like this before,"in an embrace" When I hear a melody, it permeates my soul first, so if you are plugged in, you can hear them too. The melodies. You can feel them, they will torment you, bleed you out and they will purge things and flush things. But I now see how it can lift and move things standing in the way of love and adorn you with the finest regiment every heart deserves which is the essence of love itself. This is what I found in one embrace, where strength can be found, where love abides. A friend found a miraculous way of revealing this to me in one moment, in one willing embrace of a tender heart ...


Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The Scattered Heart

I left my heart in San Francisco and in a dumpster bin
Found a piece of it in No Ho and another in Marin

In a box back stage at Poly & at the Orpheum
At the Beach in Venice and the Dresden Room

I left a trail of heart crumbs along a desert road
In a tent in the Sierras and once in a commode

On a birthing bed and in a wishing well
How many places could they go I really couldn't tell?

It took some time to scatter ... this tiny little heart
The shards like glass escape so well ... far reaching and apart

Pieces found in drawers, in some pockets and a book
Some more were found in bars, and one was on a hook!

Tell tale glimmers found in corners even as I swept
On rocks and in the ocean and in all those secrets kept.

Underneath a bed, in a dojo and a pool, another little shred was found perched up on a stool!

One was on a lounge chair taking in some sun! One was in my pillow poking me in fun.

I had to chase one down the street as it was picked up on a shoe
It kicked up dust in blinding lust and down the sewer flew!

Some were in New York, Catalina and Bel Air, off a boat in Palisades can’t take me anywhere!

New Orleans and Vegas and even Malibu, Ohio and Route 66 even got me too.

In cracks and paper bags from Puccini to the Cure, if I have them all I really can’t be sure.

I gathered all these pieces in my skirt just like a shrew, took them back to dollhouse to try to find some glue.

Pieces like a puzzle this silly mass of glass....
was spread about the dollhouse floor ... for years until at last ...

One barren summer took to bliss ... a cauldron fired up a kiss, the music wafted through the air and all my pieces brewed in there … I could see them in the pot, glistening jewels made of my lot, how long I stood there in my gaze ... in watching wonder magic glazed. It shook in violent rapture as my eyes dropped in some tears, the mixture took them captured as if purging ancient years. A surge of passion rushed and moaned ... in joyous laughter sculpture groaned. And there it was like stories told ... no more glass ... but made of gold, my heart … in love and strong to hold.


Friday, August 21, 2009

Stuff My Mother Gave Me

My Mother gave me glamour, wit and bounty tables, fresh cut flowers, Half Moon Bay and Christmas wrapping labels.

Fenton glass and recipes, singing in the car. Midnight mass, and snowball fights and banter at the bar.

Baby Ruth Bars, Weeping Willows, reading until dawn. Humming Birds and music boxes fishes in the pond.

Random acts of kindnesses, tootsie pops and rolls, band aids, candles, folding hands, and simple sounds of home.

Shiny knights in armor holding court inside my head, pretty sheets and pillows to tuck me into bed.
Bubble baths and perfumed powder, the cuteness of a poop.
Planting seeds in flower pots and smoking on the stoop.

Paintings of the ocean and a forest pink. Banana curls and baby baths in the kitchen sink.
Words to live by, incense, purpose from the pain, pebbles, crayons, paperdolls and a love for rain.

A road less traveled, a love for sex and the telephone, a life unraveled, galleries and an ice cream cone.

Savory from the kitchen wafting flavors from the brews, years of tears and candlelight and pretty little shoes.
Keys and open windows, giggles in the dark, Jeopardy, the paper and a change of heart.
Mistletoe and rosaries, white gloves and Halloween, cheesecake tote bags, Snoopy and Montana hills serene.

Tinkling bells and sisters and baby brother too; serenity prayer, and elegance, a willingness to do.
Seashells, music, coffee, pearls, a ring of black hills gold, the golden gate, a treasure chest and a story still untold.

A love for words and painted toes, failing teeth and eyes. Matching scarves and sweaters, and homemade pumpkin pies.
Books and dreams and center stage, and Cachuma Lake, Looks & schemes & lollipops a prayer my soul to take.
Elves in doorways swinging, magic, music, strife, change, sofas, pots & pans, she also gave me life.
A heart that’s full of singing, and a crystal bird, dark and scary places, a chance to now be heard.
The beauty of her eyes and laughter, chips from benchmarks made, embrace I ever after all the things she gave …. A will to make a difference to light now from the cave. ~djs


Thursday, August 13, 2009

A Little Something for Mama,

Well it's been 3 years now since I was able to kiss you. That last kiss and the feeling of your sweet powdered cheek is a burned memory in my mind. Through all of our talks at the table with coffee and cigarettes looking into your bright ocean blue eyes, it occurs to me now that I still have so much more say and so many questions to ask you. Your arms are forever reaching mom, and sometimes I can even smell your perfume. What would you say to us now if you could? Your children want and miss you. I know in those last days I was unable to sing to you the way you knew I could, my voice just wouldn't come out. But since you dipped your lovely toes into heaven things have changed. Is that you running interference from your new perch? I wonder. Our lives have all been so turbulent and all the pains are still healing. But you were right about forgiveness, it is the key to everything. You earned our forgiveness and more. One of last things you said to me was to forgive myself. I suppose I could interpret that in application to so many things even pertaining to you. How many nights did I cry for your children and my own. But you likely know this and so much more now. I wish I could see you. We were like girlfriends you said once. But it was much much more, we were the essence of broken women everywhere clinging to each other in hope. By design our ability to forgive laid a foundation for hope in a most unexpected way. We have you, mine have me. Now there is magic in the air mama, and I am even writing music again. Your birthday is tomorrow. As I feel fall approaching in my bones it used to bring us all so much joy to pickup the phone and discuss our recipes and plans of gathering. The truth is I feel the essence of you every single day. Your aura of celebration is best described as "companies coming". It's one thing to have flowers on the table, quite another to make them feel magnificent. Thank you for giving me that glorious gift because I have it too. You even found a way to give us our own bridge. I am keeping my promise to keep us together as you wished it and will continue. You are so loved, and we keep you close to us. With all this said, I wanted you to know about a very special song I wrote for us for you and for me, and for the children we have both cradled and cried over. Because I believe it was the truth in your deepest heart what you wanted for your children and what I hoped for as well for mine. I love you, your daughter Debbie


Tuesday, August 11, 2009

"My life is the backdrop for the beauty in my soul, while my heart bleeds it's artistry unto the canvas in song" djs

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Love Holds on Tight

It's time to bring our angels home, these we won't lose, no weapons made of love can be refused. djs, Welcome home Ling & Lee, Hold Your heads up high.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Love First Above All Things Makes A Difference

Note: Editor's Choice Award Library of Congress

For Prose and Peace

Where is comforts nodding head,
as seeds of darkness seek to spread
foreboding vines of wretched dread..
of certain fear of conscience led

To speak the words of hurt and woe
Bleeds the heart for wound to show
to haunt the soul and make it so
the peril that makes weak to grow

Make it loud the love in song
to the right inflicted wrong
to play the part of sadness shrill
completes the prick of poison’s will

Raise the gate to save the fair
to grow enough of good to spare

The whims of doubt may have their place
but not inside of loving’s space

Author Biography;
Debra Joy was born in Old Hollywood California in 1961. Raised in the San Fernando Valley, her mother was a beauty queen and her father was a hair dresser to the stars. As the the oldest of two sisters and one brother. The first nine years of her young life were that of glamour, fun, and the sweetness a childhood should be. She began to take care of her young siblings at the age of nine when they tragically lost their parents to alcoholism. The sad four, were discovered alone by authorities, separated and thrown into foster care. She didn’t know it then, but this was the beginning of a journey for her that would take her from the arms of contentment, and lead her through the anguish of loss and abuse unto a path of strength, discovery, purpose and hope. At 12 years old, she was first introduced to Shakespeare and became lost in the wonderment of theatre, renaissance fairs and stage. Having found success and escape through the arts, she still felt there was more to learn and became interested in metaphysics. She began to also read self help books in order to face and assist the healing of her past hardships. In her late teens to mid twenties she was married twice and had four gorgeous children of her own. However, the demise of those relationships created even more heartbreak and she began to focus even harder on her own enlightenment and self discovery. Throughout, she was able to lift her heart up with her writing and found great creative solace as well as resolve.
Since the late seventies, Debra Joy has been an inspired writer with an amazing body of work spanning from over 2000 works of poetry and over 300 songs and lyrics. ~ hayes productions

My current projects include an embodiment of songs for a few musicals soon to be championed, a handbook called Emergency Repair Kit for a Broken Heart, lyricist in company with renouned composer Richard Currier and an autobiography in hopes of assisting awareness and prevention of child abuse and abandonment. I recently became a contributor/ mentor for an independent music team called "The Collective", a group of extremly talented musicians with a desire to create change and make a difference through music and intention. Other humanatarian efforts include voluntary charity work for Clean Water for Africa, assisting in the first ever 24- hour Twitterthon with Kirstie Alley and (Aquathon). Can also be found on Twitter, posting in promotion of humanatarian efforts in various feeds and repostings in the Twitter community. So much more to come .. stay tuned..