POETS PLACE
MAY 2020
Still life in Quarantine
As May rolls around and the city remains under tight restrictions to stay at home, all I can think of is what will the city look like when the gates re-open, and the humanoid masses are let out of their cages. Will we swarm, dance, scream hysterically towards the once forbidden mostly deserted streets and hug everyone we see? Pig out in the once neglected, locked up and barren restaurants to eat and sit all day in chairs once verboten? Rush through the yellow barricade tape at the local beaches yelling, “Here I come, last one in is a rotten egg!” Rush the counters of Starbucks for that desperately needed latte beating down the crowds that have been creating traffic jams bleeding out into the streets from the only open drive thru in you’re neighborhood? Will we have learned that our arrogant negligence of other’s health has been a precursor to this pandemic!! Have we learned that due to the rampant denial of contagious behaviors - many people are horribly sick and many have died? We have forever been going into public places whilst we have colds n flu’s, sneezing on others’ shopping carts, vegetables and bathroom sinks. Will this obnoxious contaminating behavior continue as before this storm hit?
Kids- I don’t personally plan to rush out into the city, carousing as before - drinking carefree in local bars, dancing and raging (yes, me) in rock, jazz n punk clubs, or wrestling in gyms too soon after the quarantine is lifted. I want to wait a bit and see how everyone else responds before I feel safe enough to venture out.
What do you think?
This month we are hosting poets and writers from all over the country, including Puerto Rico! Sharing, wholeheartedly, maybe even exclusively, their sometimes hidden harbored intimate raw feelings and delightful sensibilities. Their stories may be revealing their truths, but definitely their heart and soul, unburdened, released just for you and me.
ENJOY!
The Wolves of Washington” - Unitsi Ai
All right are wrong
And wrong are right
Lashing their tongues
with all their might.
Snarl and shun brothers
Drawing Battle lines
Night falls
Brings rise
Two packs
One prize
Howling
Mother Moon
Desperate claws of rage
Grasp and engage
While praying
For day to come.
A reminder
Both sides are made
Of Sun
And sons
Of the same
Father.
Austin Musick (AKA Unitsi Ai ) is a writer, poet, lyricist and actor. Originally from East Tennessee, she grew up with The Great Smoky Mountains National Park as her backyard where she and her five brothers and one sister spent the days in the woods and on the river. Austin graduated from the University of Tennessee with her BA in Theatre with a minor in business. When not creating, she serves as the President of TAO Enterprises, a Commercial Real Estate corporation on the East Coast. She has lived in California for the past ten years with her two daughters. As a strong and independent single mother, Austin, strives every day to teach her children the value of pursuing one's dream, never giving up hope, and valuing the gift of life. She feels the most valuable lesson she can teach them is the importance of giving back in gratitude for the blessings we have been given; to pay it forward by giving more than we take in this lifetime.
Karmic Synchronicities: 2020
By R. G. Carrillo
April 2020
The dark forces are only getting darker
But are finite and unable to expand
Karmic synchronicities of inner fulfillment
And service to our fellow man are changing the social consciousness
Ride the wave of this change
Find your crest of social metaphysical design
Reset and enter this new dimension
Who do you trust?
Decades of meditation and spiritual development
Are coming to the forefront of man’s being
Millennials riding on the shoulders of their Baby Boomer cousins
Will lead this new paradigm shift
The materialism of the past is a tar pit of futile fossils
Edgar Cayce beings are no longer the exception
Our DNA is ever evolving to meet future humanitarian needs
Marvelous human nature maturing and manifesting our destiny
The birth pangs of a new social order for the people
Will abort a new world order from the puppet masters of Wall St.
Corporate devils will feed no more
Will no longer deplete the lion’s share
Some seed fell among the rocks
Some seed blew away in the wind
Some seed was choked in the weeds
Some seed fell on fertile ground
Spring will bring a new harvest
Coda: The wrath of God
When man turns his back on the creator
Like a virus released in pure clean water
Sin spreads from seed to harvest
Look inward reset your heart
Protect your soul
Persevere this pilgrim’s progress of gratitude
Develop an appropriate attitude of love
Let kindness be your spirit guide
Be of service and support to your community
Return to the garden of your exile
Ronald G. Carrillo is a native Lincoln Hts Angelino, living in Eagle Rock and a retired LAUSD educator and influencer. He writes of his passion and rebirth into the golden age of living. He has been writing since high school and was initially influenced from the songwriters, Keith Reid, Joni Mitchell, Laura Nyro, and Neil Young.
Lilly White Country
Lyrics by Pat & Eva Mauer, December 9, 2016
To the tune of ‘White Christmas’, by Irving Berlin
Copyright TXu 2-081-539 Reg. Dec. 15, 2016.
I’m dreaming of a white country, just like the one I used to know
Where money glistens, and women listen, and the Klan can still put on a show.
I’m dreaming of a white country, just like the one I used to know
With monster tariffs, and racist sheriffs, and no more jobs in Mexico.
I’m dreaming of a white country with every Christmas card I write
May your days be merry and bright, and may all you neighborhoods be white.
Pat & Eva are retired physicians, who were both dismayed at the results of the 2016 Presidential election. This is their first foray into songwriting. Their co-writer was a nice Jewish boy who wrote the most popular Christmas song ever written. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.
The Bicycle Brand T-shirts you wore
Bicycle Brand,
made in Hong Kong,
just like you.
I take a deep breath,
I am surrounded by you
I take a deep breath,
and inhale your scent,
I am transported back in time.
I take a deep breath,
and my childhood bleeds into view.
I, am home again.
Home smells of you,
the scent of cooking and care.
Of love, sweat and tears.
My nose is in your shirt.
I take a deep breath.
Bicycle Brand, inspected by #40.
Original stitches still intact.
Washed and handled with care,
all of these years...
just like you did for us.
Softly I hold you to me again,
and I take a deep breath.
I carry you into me always.
Mary Cheung- she is an innovative Artist and Costume Designer. Her works contain a strong sense of story as well as a highly sensuous style. She mostly works in paint or photography and sometimes making art that is wearable and innovative. She states “I am usually more of a Visual style Artists and have only recently been open to sharing literally art/poems, often paired with visual art of my creation, birthing a new form of spoken word art as another form of expression”.
©The End Game
By: IE Carlo
26 April 2018
The End Game. Governments playing serious games with our lives, our childrens lives, an apocalypse of a mishap for the world. should we sit back and allow it to happen? We should be outraged with disdain. This thing call politics for the privileged is against all of humankind.
The most ironic and iconic is the fact that The End Game is all we have in this life. We are all going to die, you know it, they know it, all of humankind know it. So what the fuck is wrong with all of us humankind?
Pray to whatever god you wish to pray too, but leave science alone! That’s where the game is.
I heard, probably here on facebook, something quite interesting; it could have been a commercial that also proves The End Game.
It starts with the caveman; he lives off wild berries, fresh meat for protein, roots right from the ground, nuts, breaths the cleanest purified air. Drinks the cleanest purest water, has plenty of exercise, and dies at thirty eight…!
People we must get off this idea of living forever and recognize how truly vulnerable and precious we are. We are part of that universe and there is no room for hate and ill will. Using our resources for the betterment of the humankind is our mission, if, but we strive for that kind of world. I believe it could happen in this lifetime.
Leaving our lives to others to use as pawns in their quest for control via force, threats, intimidations, and war, is not conducive to the humankind.
This thought is a universal thought I am sure, for the ones that are in control are but a small band of incompetent fools, who think small for the humankind. Using God or whatever narrative fits their agenda.
Be aware people, life is to be lived via a set of rules that has been in place since the beginning of humankind and takes all of humankind to keep it in place, and that is to live in peace by way of helping humankind in its quest through science and the fact that no one leaves here alive. Life is for Living!
“The End Game”!
Ismael (East) Carlo, poet, actor began his career on the streets of East Harlem, el barrio whose moniker of “East” happened due to others not being able to pronounce the name, Is-Ma-El…
East, considers himself more a storyteller than a poet, although at times he gets lucky and poetry emerges from his stories...
For more about East, visit IMDB.
Paz en Vida
DANCING IN THE TIME OF PANDEMIC
by Richard Russeth
I.
My parents were not good dancers.
They did not love it, and so only for
certain well-worn songs would they venture
into the sea of swirling cocktail dresses,
my father holding both his cigarette
and my mother’s hand.
I never thought my father would die,
but two packs a day, and sometimes three,
was not good.
I never thought my mother would die,
but admittedly her whiskey habit was a bit much
even for an Irish gal.
So, it was not so very surprising,
in either case, when the doorbell rang,
and death bade them leave everything behind,
an overnight bag being superfluous.
Though I think my mother might have,
had she had the chance, taken the makeup valise
where she hid the small pills.
As for my Dad, he just put down his cigarette and left.
As for me, I miss the smell of zippo fluid,
the promethean spark, the sharp intake of breath
and then, relieved sigh.
I attended both funerals,
and though eight years part,
It felt like I had simply stopped for gas
going from one to the other.
Eventually, all the friends of my parents
answered the doorbell. Most were surprised,
the way people are surprised when told they’ve
won the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes,
nobody expects to win that silly contest.
We tell ourselves it’s inevitable, but we don’t
believe it. Other people win, not us,
or, anyways, not for a long time
II.
Now the pandemic couple
strolls onto the dance floor,
their lovely carnation boutonnieres
just so; oh, come now,
surely you knew it was a couple!
The last dance is theirs always,
and when they trade partners,
their scent, a perfume steeped with earth,
iron and regret, lingers on the skin
and stings the eyes.
When the band finishes the tune,
their parting words are the same always:
“Pity you thought you were invincible, my dear,”
and then whispered discreetly:
“This dance can be sweet,
but only with those who adored the dance,
and never cared what the song.”
The crowded ballroom watches
Johnny swing the band
to the rafters and back.
All through the night, no one notices
the handsome couple
straighten each other's boutonnieres,
and with a small curtsey,
walk into the swaying crowd,
with no particular tune in mind.
Richard Russeth is a poet, writer, photographer, magician, baker and lawyer. You can check out his photography at www.richardqrusseth.com or follow him on IG: @rqrusseth. Richard and his wife Charlotte live in Evergreen, Colorado.
Thanks for joining us! Let me know how were doing here and PLEASE, more than ever, continue to support the arts!!
With great hope for our future
Linda Kaye
Please submit your written work to:lindakayepoetry@icloud.com