POETS PLACE
JANUARY EDITION 2022
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! WOW!!! We’ve completed another year!!! It truly has been a challenge, if I do say so myself. A super scary roller coaster ride that I rode daily! Never knowing from one minute to the next what challenge I/we will face to continue on the ride. My ride, your ride on OUR journey into the unknown! Fear is generated because of the unknown. Our job is to face those fears head on so they don’t take hold like a virus. Getting a daily boost of love from our compadres helps tremendously, it’s a cure to the illness. As John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote, “A little help from my friends” always works. To get that love we need to reach out, make contact, shout out our needs to them so they are aware that you are in need of attention. Silent suffering doesn’t cut it. It just continues to allow the virus (negative thoughts) to fester, ruminating out of control and distorting the issues in our heads. When that process has been stimulated we have to recognize it immediately and stop its infectious nature by (add your process here). As I mentioned last month, when bummed I listen to music. It’s the greatest source of positive distraction in the world. Once I have been distracted from my negative thoughts, I can begin to heal and create! The very reason this column exists is to give a forum to you to share yourself in poetry, prose and in the stories you create. Keep ‘em coming folks!!!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
BIG Love,
Linda :0)
Expressions of the alter ego
By Linda Kaye
Expressions of the alter ego delightfully rears its awesome head
by laughing fortuitously
dancing graciously
striking a poetic pose
or sitting in repose
whether life like or still life
the alter ego is contagious, charming, with cadence decadence seductive relishness
a chutney of divine tastes
and succulent savories
or can be the petulant nasty uncle or unsavory snarky aunt
Expressions of the alter ego unlocks cavalier devilish behavior
a discontent of the state of affairs
laissez-faire laziness or unleashed anger
a rage sprouted from a hidden rebellious nature
to squash a litigious neighbor with a vengeance for spite
how contrite
Expressions of the alter ego often resembles the sexual proclivities of a Linda Lovelace character dabbling with the excursions into the forbidden realms of lust
your deepest darkest desires unleashed channeling the harlequin look and style of Jean Harlow the brashness of Bette Davis with the power of Madonna
don't you wanna?
Grandfathers
by Jeff Chayette 17 Feb 2021
far from the home I love
strains of tunes from Fiddler on the Roof
dropped fairy dust on rusty memories
of stories told that never grew old
who was this man who left a life behind
traveling blind in the stinking bowels of ocean liners
crammed with Jews given the screw
told to scram your lives be damned
your town was burned
all you saved were tools
tools of pride
tools of invention
tools of men
tools of conception
the sacred scrolls could not be saved
the temple burned
what was saved were the tools of his trade
a metal box crafted by hand
by a small stocky sturdy man
who carried his trade on his back
he could shape metal with his will
will his hands
wield his tolls
bend and shape from sheets of steel
a jewelry box a chair a desk
a craftsman of steel crafting inventions
inventions of identity
he would now be mr. brown renowned
hailing a call to Montreal
enthralled with brick stone crushed tricks
he worked and saved no digging graves
he followed sounds within his soul
he heard metal toil and passions boil
across the lakes of Michigan
a telegram from master craftsman faivel said
brown renowned come to town
this motor town of steel and wheel
will fill the faults our skills have taught
in prohibition is an exhibition
no bath tub gin to puke in sin
we’ll take our skills hone stills for whiskey, it’s less risky
the mob boss will pay the fare
you’ll find true love this town’s not square
your ticket’s paid for Tuesday’s train
Detroit’s a roar of motor sound and metal men who own the town
while machines banged engines
the men made stills for rye
and corn and barley wine
the pay was gold and coats of mink
not the route for torah boys
life necessitates when crying babies hunger waits
when child number four was born he could not stop and sired four more
bend and shape a cigarette machine
rotate towels in a tumble drum
each night he put his wife to bed
he brought companions for his head
a pack of smokes
a seltzer bottle
a jug of wine
to wash the day away
the legend says at break of day
all were consumed only empties remained
Jeff Chayette has lived and loved for 4 decades in Los Angeles. A multi-faceted artist who attended Art Center College of Design In Pasadena, Jeff has worked on stage, television and films.
His design work has been peer recognized with National and local Emmys, CBS Eye on Excellence and Promax BDA awards.
His current poems are reflections on past and present life in Los Angeles through the eyes of the pandemic.
Select Company: December 2021
By Ronald G. Carrillo
Select company to keep me safe
Romantic harbingers of love
That could blindside me coming into my own
Like hidden explosive land mines
Select company were my teachers
Fine educators of the high Arts
Role models specifically chosen
For I was on a path of freedom and creativity
Searching for common ground and reciprocal exclusivity
In designing my unique self through the Arts
But still desiring the muses of Eros to fulfill me
This search for love remained a mirage
Where were its well springs to satisfy my thirst
Where was its oasis to quiet my fear of loneliness
And steady my steps on this journey
Inspiration I was able to harvest for years and let some go to waste
But to find him that special one remained illusion
A confusion that I could not decode
And in my worst moments sabotage and self-delusion
He depended on the kindness of strangers
He collected small pieces of glass
That he held close to his heart
His select company became his Art
His Art became Americana and of high literate stock
But he was no longer able to sparkle and glow
He was all played out and only sexual distraction
And drink allowed him salvation from the blinding light of truth
Sugar was through with love and tired of the fuzzy end of the lollipop
She was fashioned in a blatant sexual way and the camera loved her
Blonde bimbo or blonde bombshell she dominated the screen
Select company would save then destroy her
First elevating her chosen craft then putting her in danger
Her iconic flying white dress immortalized her forever
She married Mr. Baseball and sang to a president and then was dead
She was objectified and sexualized
Because the public liked it hot
Joni drank a case of him becoming a silly romantic boring someone
In a dark café passing her time away behind empty bottles
She was sinking but couldn’t stop thinking of him
He was underneath her romantic thin skin
She wanted to skate away on a Canadian river
Instead she flew away like a black crow searching for shiny things
Besieged by coyote men and male charmers of the highest degree
But she still wanted to be free a seagull living in a cactus tree
Clouds in those blue Canadian eyes still not knowing
What life could be confusion love’s illusion and blue
A canyon lady for a time enjoying a brief domesticity
But her Art and music made her a tumbleweed
Where she would succeed and have the love of many fans
With a romantic life support that was casual
Like a leaky water spout dripping off and on
Providing constant lyrical muses and musical fodder
Only to become Billie Holiday’s lost daughter
A tender girl loved a tom cat man who kept running away
She learned the hard way to resist his devil charm
He was her captain her medication
Her chosen select company
Bringing her only temporary satisfaction
Then her addiction for him gave her the blues so bad
The chamber walls of loneliness came rushing in
Her bitter tears only filled the gutter of her sorrow for him
There was no more communication with her Mr. Blue
Cigarettes and ashes, cocaine, and those New York streets
Were a magical playground then turned on her
She hit her peak in nineteen seventy-one
She had maternal leanings and yearnings for motherhood
And the dream of Woodstock was now gone
So she left the city and bought some land
Hiding her heart and trying to forget that man
Confessing her pain going down in the flames of love
Her gospel heart would bring her back again
Like a virgin phoenix renewed in tender salvation
Such select company is my balm to cover the slashes
Love is like the stock market when it crashes
A risk of your heart
You win some you lose some
Are you in it for the long run
Or just a short-term investment
It may be bull market that will soon level off
Or a bear market that will burden your heart
But I am in expert company for they are my chosen support
Their Art brings me comfort and alerts me on this path
Not a pilgrim’s path but a wandering stranger in a strange land
An innocent changed and assaulted in losses and bad dreams
Memories and battle fields and romance with short in-betweens
He despaired in desire and eccentricities that could not save him
He wrote what he knew and suffered its consequences
Like a moth to the flame of fame it destroyed him
But he lives on in his fragile heroines of mystique and complexity
She persevered through unthinkable slings and arrows
Aimed at her character and ultimately her heart
But achieved at the highest levels of her chosen craft at great cost
A misfit till the end on the big screen where she still lives
The Saskatchewan maiden went through cloud changes
And seagull skies all the while deciphering men’s eyes
She could have married as a Canyon lady
But her freedom and Art were her real spouses
The Madonna from New York surried and picnicked
In lavender confession being sold on the music line
Telling thirteen tales that paved her way to Tendaberry
She loved her country in a time of war
Preaching her gospel of peace and women’s blues
How could she choose when her muses were so pure
Music was her serious playground
Geffen was pulling her out of her comfort zone
He was hungry for the money
She could not answer to two different masters
Select company was my treasure box of hard knocks
Opening up the locks to this young heart
Defining its mean streets and monsters
Select company were my road signs to Romeo
Steering me on long stretches of lonely highway and detours
Securing my faith in love despite its poor returns
Sweet times but many burns of judgement and poor decision
Total control created a loss of control and vision
Select company is still with me on this journey
My romantic muses acting like attorneys
I am the benefactor of select company sages
Ages now learning their ways and heeding their advice
Their experiential wisdom filling my pages
And helping me recognize virtue and side-stepping the vice
Select company for the Soul
An aged pot, a mixed stew
Nurturing and warm
Stemming from vintage rock and roll
Covering me from many a romantic storm
Choose wisely your compass sages
Aiding and giving their support
As we go through the stages of our lives
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, Neil Young.
REMEMBER ME
10-12-21
2:33 a.m.
By Mary Cheung
Remember me,
We use to be married.
But no longer now.
I've long since been dead.
Remember me,
I'm one of 4 children, you raised and cared for.
Adorning us with love, knowledge and a shelter over our heads.
Remember me,
You built a house with your husband on a cul-de-sac. Where many memories of happiness and joy were spent.
Remember me,
You spent your whole life giving and giving without a single regret.
Remember me,
Family gatherings and dinners.
The glorious scent of the meals that we would share.
Remember me,
The parties and the people who surrounded you.
Each one present,
showing you how much they care.
Remember me,
The chocolates you would make.
And doled out your goods for everyone to share.
Remember me,
Your luncheon gatherings with your friends that are still here.
Remember me,
Easter dinners with friends and family,
Crowded around a table.
Loaded with food, joy and love,
heavy in the air.
Remember me,
It was just yesterday;
You drove your white car,
Rolling around running your errands and handling your own affairs.
Remember me,
I spend everyday with you still.
Reminding you of what's going on around here.
Remember who,
You are cuz there's no greater mom and of the life we share.
Remember who,
That person is family and religion, something you hold dear.
Remember who,
That person is.
I'm not ready to lose yet.
So please hang in there.
Remember why,
I'll keep reminding you.
Of who you are. You're still there...
Just lurking behind.
In the shadows.
Take me hand, I'll guide you.
Don't worry I'm right here
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”.
ZEN AND THE ART OF DOG-WALKING
By Stephen Buhler
The dogs are in the moment this morning;
I'm along for the ride but resistant all the way.
An expanse of exquisite (to them) aromas define their path.
Too many days I grumble against the cold,
Against their connoisseurship of bouquets
Surpassing that of sommeliers.
(“You detect and appreciate Cats' Piss?” they scoff;
“Try Deer Scat for a revelatory experience.”)
But when I let their leashes lead me,
I rest content in their meanderings
And, yes, their movements.
If my mind wanders toward remembrance of walks past
Or it anticipates rewarding these two
Or it works toward composing what may be a poem
Such as this, I stop wishing us back inside the house
As this moment still remains theirs.
May future presents with them –
My subtle, sniffing, mostly silent Zen masters –
Sometime be mine as well.
Stephen Buhler teaches at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and performs with the Americana-and-More group Tupelo Springfield.
Poem
By G. Billie Quijano-Mestiza
The New Year is upon us
Cadence of thought
Too many emotions that can't be bought
The rona tried to steal precious memories
It remains in the shadows
This last year full of struggle and strife
We go forward
Cause we have much life
Fear is not a road map
Joy on the rise
The wisdom of the ancients assures us healing and elegant enlightenment
Awe, knowledge, intuition, astonishment
Imaginations soar
I can hear our heartbeats roar
Radiate love
Passion, artistry will never be tamed
Dreams will manifest
We are eternally blessed
We are adorned with golden wings
There will be many new beginnings
Poetry, a vibration away
See the alphabet strut and sway
So here's to you, Auld Lang Syne
Let the divine in you, shine
G. Billie Quijano-Mestiza, Hija de East Los. Poeta, artista, instigator of beauty.
Thank you Linda and thank you to all of the poets who bring brilliance every month and make the world a better place. Be safe, be well, be loved.
Thanks for joining us! We will continue to host writers and poets of all genres.
With great hope for a healthier future!
Love, Linda Kaye
Please submit your written work to:lindakayepoetry@icloud.com and include a short bio.
Linda Kaye writes poetry, curates poetry, produces spoken word and art events and produces a poetry column POETS PLACE for the online publication LAARTNEWS throughout the Los Angeles area.
Linda’s poetry events have included several summer poetry salons, and shows at the Align Gallery, 50/50 Gallery, Gold Haus Gallery, Ave 50 Gallery and Rock Rose Gallery in Highland Park .The Manifesto Café in Hermon, Pilates and Arts studio in Echo Park, and Native Boutique and Zweet Café in Eagle Rock. And at the Neutra Institute Gallery and Museum in Silverlake. Her first short documentary film “BORDER POETS” was a socially and politically inspired event with poets and musicians filmed at the border wall near Tecate, Mexico on the Jacumba, Ca. side of the US. The film co-produced by MUD productions is available for viewing on her website and on youtube. https://youtu.be/5Te4-dlhxco
Her most recent project a rap music video in collaboration with Mary Cheung, “ERACE-ISM” can also be seen on youtube. https://youtu.be/NfrbveNUBgg
Linda Kaye is a native Angelino who grew up in the San Fernando Valley. She claims to be both a first-generation Valley Girl, and The Original Hipster. Educated at Antioch University and Cal State Long Beach in psychology and social work. Linda, now retired was working for the last seven years as a psychotherapist and licensed clinical supervisor for an out patient mental health clinic. She was a licensed medical social worker for 30+ years working on the front line of healthcare, a private consultant for Physicians Aid Association and for skilled nursing facilities throughout California and Arizona. She was also an adjunct assistant professor at the USC Suzanne Dworak-Peck School of Social Work. Oh yeah.
Twitter/Instagram: lindakayepoetry