POETS PLACE
MAY 2023
May is bringing the blooms. The rain is feeding the flowers, and we are definitely in a growth spurt of countless things. Smog is back big time. Homelessness is bursting at the seams. Baby boomers are booming out. It’s out a sight, man. The sights and sounds of May resonate with the constant drones of weed hackers and leaf blowers piercing the skin and stirring up the human psyche unleashing dangerous rage. There is no quiet anymore in LA. To manage the incessant noise, the manufacturers of headsets, ear plugs and medication for headaches are blooming, so to speak. And speaking of head trauma, My head still aches from the whiplash I suffered recently from a rear end car accident. The guy who rammed into me was of course too close to my tail. I had to slam on my breaks to avoid hitting a drunken pedestrian who was almost hit by another ‘not paying attention’ driver. People are NOT PAYING ATTENTION! Have I mentioned that before? I think so. I’m even guilty of it. Mind just wandering around the perimeters of my personal bubble which reaches about 3 feet in diameter from my face. Oh and even sometimes when I’m driving somewhere I have to stop and talk (yell) to myself to pay attention. Where am I going again?? Life in LA.
We have amassed a stellar line up of writers this month. Check us out, and tell your friends to take a read! It’s free and easy babe. And always open for submissions. No theme, any genre, all are invited to be published!!
Love, Linda :0)
Trash Talk
By Linda Kaye
Trash Talk. Hyperbole. I know what you guys are fucking thinking. That We're making all this up. This life shit that’s going on. Do you think it’s happening just to FUCK with your head?
And it will FUCK with your head because most of you are clueless- that’s right. Most of you are not paying attention to what’s going on around you.
How many strikes or bullshit comments can you make before you're canceled? Who decides who is canceled? What does it mean to be canceled? Can I be canceled if I call out stupid people? Are there cancel cops out there? “Officer. It wasn’t me”. I’m lying, I did say some shit.
Hello? Are you Paying attention? Ok tell me what you understand about what I just inferred. Because of our negligence, head in the sand behaviors, probably by the year 2047 people wont be able to step outside their doors without a gas mask.
Look, I’m not being judgmental I get it people are just fucking stupid because they’re not paying attention. Yeah, It’s the other guy’s problem. The greeds of societies decadence are prevalent from the overflows of negligent squander- idiotic beliefs that the carousel runs forever. The pervasive magical thinking of security “they will fix this and take care of us” mentality.
Survival depends on the preparations you have invested in your whole life
Are you ready?
First Rain
By Aaron Schulte
The first rains hit my windows
Fat drops scraped clean paths
In my accumulated dirt
That wasn’t noticeable before
So I stepped into nature’s shower
To rinse away all of my grime
I relaxed and a weight fell away
Leaving the bones to start again
Aaron Schulte born in 1975 and raised in the small town of Victoria, Texas, Aaron Schulte found himself frequently escaping to the stories of movies and television shows. This daydreamer couldn’t find his footing in the paths that everyone he knew pursued, so he moved to Los Angeles to see what filmmaking was about. He attended Columbia College-Hollywood from 1995-‘99 and found his love of creating escapes for other people.
He majored in Cinematography and minored in Screenwriting. His too shy nature kept his writing on a more private side, but he flourished as a “lighting guy” in Hollywood. He has been an IATSE local 728 member since 2005 and has racked up lots of credits. However, writing poetry, essays, and short stories has remained a solid basis for his approach to his work and art making.
Life Poem
By Daniel Schack
I do not believe in a God, necessarily. But I believe in godliness. I do not wish to be a saint, but I think I am saintly enough. I do not consider myself so sinful but must have fun and enjoy temptations. I do not consider myself so evil but there might be a reason why backwards evil spells live. Maybe with both directions is what it takes to give. If life is evil and evil is life, let me do both in peace, without malicious judgement and spite. If you not mind. But where or what is your mind?
The poet ,daniel schack can be seen on poetrysoup.com and his art on tumblr adanthemanworld.daniel schack is 57 and is a high school grad. With 3.5 years of college. peace.
I SEE NOW
11-11-2021
7:59 a.m
By Mary Cheung
I look in the mirror and suddenly I see.
That I've become my mom.
I have the same look about me that she did.
I look like her, except with colored hair.
That kind of makes me happy.
Because I see now what an awesome person she was.
How strong and capable she was.
Fiercely independent and counted on no one and could do it all.
She was the super mom.
She took care of 6 kids.
Raised us and gave us all of her love.
Took care of the family and worked hard to make money to support us.
She went out shopping almost daily.
For fresh foods so that she could cook us good homemade meals.
I have so many good memories of my early childhood.
All of the love and care .
Carefree days of joy and laughter.
She taught us many valuable skills.
And instilled in us strong work ethics.
She always found the time to spend with us.
She made the time to teach us and help us with homework.
Multitasking feeding our minds and feeding our stomachs.
I have such fond memories of her cooking in the kitchen while singing a Chinese song about a beautiful rose.
Of her climbing onto the top bunk bed with me to sleep and hold me because I was scared.
Of her coming to my Halloween parade in kindergarten while I marched around with a brown paper bag on my head.
Of her bringing me a clean pair of underwear and pants because I had an accident at school.
Of her endless Chinese fables that always had a good moral to them.
Of her knitting at the speed of light and not having to look down at her hands while she did it.
Of watching the care she took to put on makeup and do her hair.
Of me tagging along with her to night school to learn English so she could do more for us in this "America".
Of her taking us by the playground so that we could play on the swings and spin us on the carousels.
Of her crying when I went to the airport to head out to Los Angeles to attend school and start my new life.
So yeah she put on pounds in her older age .
But she still had the same fierce spirit and tenacity.
Still kind, loving and supportive.
I have that same strong determination.
I'm starting to look like her physically as well.
And I've put on a bit of weight.
I have that same drive that she did.
The same enthusiasm and love for her family.
So yeah I'm becoming my mom.
But hopefully the new improved version of her.
Mom 2.0 And hopefully my kids will appreciate me sooner than later.
Because God knows I didn't until it was late in her life.
By then I was scrambling to spend as much of my time with her as I could b4 the end.
I hope mom knows that I finally finally realized what a gem she was.
And how much I loved and cherished all that she gave me.
Happy Mother's Day Mom.
Thank you for giving me the world and making me who I am.
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”.
65,000,000 BC
By Michael D. Meloan
I was beginning to think that Rolf was a loser. He was gone most of the day, while I foraged for roots and berries, swept out our cave, and mended our loincloths and skins. Then he’d come home empty-handed. No sabretooth tiger, not even a rabbit. After some of my delicious wild weed stew, he wanted a backrub, and sex. It was over in about two minutes.
But one day, my life was radically transformed. I was bent-over, gathering fallen fruit, when I saw a fast-moving shadow looming from above. Suddenly I was flying. My bobcat skin was in the claws of a pterodactyl. His wingspan was enormous. Staggering. We soared effortlessly on the wind. Then he headed at speed for a large cave on a towering cliffside. We skidded inside on the smooth rock interior. I was terrified, wondering if he was planning to devour me. He let out an ear-shattering screech and stared at me with his probing primordial eye.
Then he flew back out of the cave. I went to the edge and looked down. It was a sheer drop of thousands of feet. So I decided to just sit and wait. If he wanted to kill me, he would have already done it.
Soon, he returned with a large juicy capybara in his beak. He presented it to me, and almost bowed as he released it.
I built a fire and roasted it on a spit. We both enjoyed the delicious beast in silence.
After dinner, we gazed at the rocky green hills spanning out toward the horizon. It was breathtaking. I had never been up so high.
Pter is strong--he doesn’t need to blather-on endlessly. He lives in a world of action.
After the meal, as the light began to wane, Pter reached over and gently touched me with one of his enormous leathery wings. His energy was electrifying. My nipples hardened as I imagined what it would be like to feel those powerful wings delicately brush against my naked body.
***
I am still enthralled by Pter’s quiet strength. But reptilian love making is a challenge. We make do. Sometimes I feel as if I can read his mind. He has revealed flashes of quiet vulnerability. My intuition has sharpened and so has his.
I am sometimes lonely for my own kind. But I know that this hilltop lair is a refuge from a hostile world. I must make use of this gift, to gain a kind of wisdom that only emerges from solitude.
Michael Meloan's fiction has appeared in Wired, Huffington Post, Buzz, LA Weekly and in many anthologies. He was an interview subject in the documentaries Bukowski: Born Into This and Joe Frank: Somewhere Out There. With Joe Frank, he co-wrote a number of radio shows that aired across the NPR syndicate. His Wired short story "The Cutting Edge" was optioned for film. And he co-authored the novel The Shroud with his brother Steven. This fall, RUP press in Germany will release his memoir/novella PINBALL WIZARD.
Poema
By G.Billie Quijano
Dragg Revolucion
Maquillaje, palabras
Ruby red gritos, a solution
Free to gown
Rhinestones, sequins
Flowing and sway
Gold lame chanclas
Not far behind
Ru, Sasha, Divine
Dragg eternally, not a crime
Your colonized laws
Will spin and fade
Queens don't prance, they dance
Lipsync, sing
And everything in between
Lashes, wigs
The snap of a finger
The scent of their sashay lingers
The government, don't make a mistake
For what is at stake
Protect their Vidas
Honor thy Reinas
I got you homegirl
Dragg Revolucion
This poem is dedicated to the Queens who make our lives richer because of their beauty, talents and fierceness. The world is a better place.
G.Billie Quijano/Hija de East Los. Poeta, natural creative, instigator of beauty. My wish is to share my art, my words, a desire to make a connection and contribution. To maintain beauty and balance in the Universe. I continue to evolve and participate in the cultural rhythm of the barrio.
the mission
By Joshua Dresser
I’m hungry
I’m hungry and I just left the chow hall
story of my life
a flat cap on my balding head
coke bottle glasses
this little plastic jig to make cigarettes
$20 a week just for being on the Program
and I am envied
being envied in this place
is like shit wishing it was vomit
two-thirds of my life in prison
too long in the carnival
my last winter will be spent here
hungry
always hungry
Joshua Dresser howled into this world in the year of Halloween. He went to university, wrote plays and short stories, and eventually allowed life to alter his plans indefinitely. He lives on the Autism spectrum, works as a technical writer, and enjoys logomachy.
He resides in Los Angeles.
The Price for Knowing God
By Bill Ratner
An old bed prayer made up each night, we never did this stuff at supper. God, make sure everything burbles up at safe speeds, amen. A duty like cleaning my plate learned at Y-Camp from pale college boys still at God’s behest. They were into sign-making, enamel paint lettering, squares of metal cut on the new bandsaw, aphorisms about Christ and water, weekend outings, safe canoeing.
On Ash Wednesday my Aunt Caroline draws her finger down my brow making me up with burnt ash, sin, and magic, rushing to God—the cartoon of it: cave, shadow, trickster, devil child, apologist, the lonely one, all costumed with star eyes.
Fragments of a dream where I’m not embarrassed to say, Dionysis, tall he was, grape vines in his hair, mythic chin, smooth, fatty skin, whom I never worshipped or saw much in paintings, appeared to me in the hallway at a party and said, You’re doing okay.
Bill Ratner’s poems are published in Best Small Fictions 2021–Sonder Press; chapbook: To Decorate a Casket–Finishing Line Press; full-length collection: Fear of Fish–Alien Buddha Press, and other journals. He is a 9-time winner of The Moth StorySLAM, 2-time winner of Best of The Hollywood Fringe Extension Award for Solo Performance. He earns his living as a voice actor. https://billratner.com/author • @billratner
Beyond Black Skies
By Victoria Ester Orantes
Suddenly a storm obscures skies once clear.
Angry bursts of light, she quivers in fear.
Where are the blue skies that she knew so well?
Black clouds attack where the sunflower dwells.
From warm rays to lightning, where will she turn?
She recalls with closed eyes as petals burn.
To exist is to suffer and rejoice.
To thrive, fear and pain one cannot avoid.
Petal in hand, a reminder of strength.
Tempests test spirit, but blue skies await.
Victoria was born and raised in Los Angeles, California. She is the owner and operator of the first 1966 Volkswagen Beetle boutique, V.E.O. Visions, where she sells her original art, original jewelry, hand-painted clothing, and curated $5 thrifts. Victoria’s art has been featured in local NELA establishments, art-walks, and recently Shoutout LA magazine.
Coffee Issues
By Ronald G. Carrillo
Coffee morning
Pod inserted
Laptop on
Sacred smell
Drip drip
The first sips
Black unadorned
Sacred brew
Fully awake
A splash of half and half
Coffee mate if I’m in the mood
No sugar ever
More options
If I am coffee dating with a friend
Coffee greed
Caffeine exploitation
A franchise on every corner
Coffee vampires
Feeding the hunger
Cappuccino, expresso, latte
Café au Lait, mocha, Americano
So many extras adding to our addiction
Too many flavors for java
Just give me my cup of joe
Home brew
For the ride to work
In my sippy cup thermos
Sacred brew in Styrofoam a big red flag
LAUSD in-house coffee crap
Pasadena senior center mud too weak
Diner restaurant perk hit or miss
Coffee filter or pods
French press or pour over
Percolating coffee pot or machine
Whole bean or ready ground
A connoisseur or an everyday common joe
Coffee cup of sobriety
Filled to the brim
With Trader Joe’s special blend
First sip
I am fully awake
Let the day begin
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.
Thanks for joining us! We will continue to host writers and poets of all genres.
Please submit your written work to: lindakayepoetry@icloud.com and include a short bio.
Linda Kaye writes poetry, curates poetry, produces films, 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, Zweet Café in Eagle Rock, The Makery in Little Tokyo. 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 rap music video project in collaboration with Mary Cheung, “ERACE-ISM” can also be seen on youtube. https://youtu.be/NfrbveNUBgg This video was accepted into the Ontario Museum of History & Art show “We the People” Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. February 2- April 16, 2023. So honored!!
And… February 19, 2022, she debuted her staged poetry production of “20 Years Left” at the historic Ebell Club in Highland Park! Two sold out shows with 2 standing ovations!! Check out the links to reviews and the video!
https://thehollywoodtimes.today/20-years-left-new-show-performance-poetry-music/
20 Years Left youtube live stream 2/19/22
Linda Kaye is a native Angeleno 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 from medical social work, 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
http://voyagela.com/interview/daily-inspiration-meet-linda-kaye/