POETS PLACE
MAY EDITION 2024
BARCELONA
Hola! Publishing from Barcelona, Spain!!! What a magical city! The city of dreams they say when you enter the Gaudi designed building, Casa Batllo. It’s “a building in the center of Barcelona, Spain. It was designed by Antoni Gaudí, and is considered one of his masterpieces. A remodel of a previously built house, it was redesigned in 1904 by Gaudí and has been refurbished several times after that. Gaudí's assistants Domènec Sugrañes i Gras, Josep Canaleta and Joan Rubió also contributed to the renovation project.
The local name for the building is Casa dels ossos (House of Bones), as it has a visceral, skeletal organic quality. It is located on the Passeig de Gràcia in the Eixample district, and forms part of a row of houses known as the Illa de la Discòrdia (or Mansana de la Discòrdia, the "Block of Discord"), which consists of four buildings by noted Modernista architects of Barcelona”. Cited from Wikipedia. Lol.
This building, was so amazing. His design was carefully sculpted as an undersea playground or inside the belly of a dragon. Windows shaped like big eyes shaped with a spiral shell stained glass inside them. Just a sampling. It was an apartment building Yo! You must google it.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casa_Batlló
Entering the La Familia Sagrada Gaudi basilica was enveloping. He designed the building 100 years ago and it is still not finished! Once finished it will be the tallest church in the world! He designed it with themes of the forest. Columns that hold the ceiling look like trees with branches that finger out to touch the ceiling, or as the audio guide said, touch Jesus.
It’s a Neo-Gothic design structured to stand on its own without internal bracing or external buttressing. The result, modified beyond recognition, was a complexly symbolic forest of helicoidal piers, hyperboloid vaults and sidewalls. Exasperatingly beautiful, overwhelmingly stunning. Nothing in my life can compare with this mesmerizing structure!!!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sagrada_Família
There is so much to enjoy in this art and culturally infused city. So far I have just touched the surface. Traveling is a challenge at this age. I wasn’t sure my body would hold out as long as it has, even with the jet lag in Paris, and the hangover from my last night in France, still remnants of a pounding head here in Spain. I’m good. More than good! Inspired!!!
Returning soon to LA!
Enjoy this month’s contributors!!!
Avec plaisir!!!
Linda :0)
Day three, April 20, 2024
By Linda Kaye
she strode along on the Garonne river bank.
It was April in France
only the sounds of the river cascading over a cement barge could be heard
It was quiet in April in France
on the picturesque riverwalk,
the quaintness of the town was a million miles away from the urban jungle, the soundscape of over stimulation and masses of manufactured noise,
pollution
it was peaceful in April in France, sitting on a bench alongside the Garonne river no signs of pollution
a civilized society, clean and contained in the historical capsule of the way back when
although the roads may be cobbled and the people protective the bell still rings on the hour and a half
what we don’t know can be researched
what we remember is the art of adventure that was nurtured by the hosts and through explored new passageways that inspired creativity.
It was an experience to remember
that time in April in France.
Day 3
April 20, 2024
as the sun rose in the garden of the foreign land, and the birds, chirped familiar songs, the church bells rang nine bells as all the towns people slept. The visitors crept alone.
The visitors knew they could march through the village unnoticed, freshly bathed, wearing their culturally fashioned clothes neatly tucked as to not attract too much attention, also it was Sunday the day when the villagers slept in
no shops were open so the visitors wept.
Silently Fading
By Anna C Broome
By your grave I stood
Above your bones
I inhaled
The heap of decay
From my earliest memory
I feared your mortality
As if it were my own
Was it so Worthy
All your Begging for battle?
Now that you put your hunger to rest
down into the darkness
Revenge is a promise a man should keep.
Will you rise from this cursed bed,
With the same thoughts of violence in your head,
Or instead with a heavy fall
Will you prefer to sleep
Or does that admit defeat?
I stay rather silently
As you positively are fading
very silently fading.
Anna Broome is a Los Angeles published poet
and producer of the monthly free-to-the public performance art show, The Anna Broome Room for the passed ten years and the Solo Concert Series, The Broome Closet. She earned two bachelor’s degrees: Creative Writing, Poetry and English Literature and Language with an emphasis on British and American Romantic Poetry from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington where studied under Pulitzer Prize for Poetry nominee, Michael White. Her first book of poetry, Orthodox Bats was published in 2019. Her second book, Sex Ed: A Prerequisite at Columbine was published this year by Four Feathers Press. Her first novel, A Full Sun is due out in 2025. And first collection of novellas the following year.
IT TAKES MORE THAN POETS
By Peter Yates
[a tycoon’s rant]
It takes more than poets to make the world go.
Capital, brains, knowhow, drive! —
are just as important to being alive.
Unromantic, unglamorous, misunderstood,
Management quietly works for the good.
The pyramids, granted, were built by slaves,
but only when Pharaohs envisioned such graves.
When the workers were freed — their rulers killed —
what works of their own were they able to build?
Centuries later, we come to their land,
to visit the pyramids, and stare at the sand.
This sounds, I know, a bit unkind,
But as I’ve found, so you will find —
those with nothing will admit
their need for wisdom’s benefit,
while those who question wealth and profit,
digest the fruits of what they scoff at.
Peter Yates In venues ranging from Lincoln Center and Italian State Radio to the art clubs of Salzburg and the wilds of Los Angeles, Peter Yates has produced over a thousand events as a composer, guitarist, writer and multimedia artist. His interest in things not done has led to a puppet opera about the Watts Towers, a DVD ghost-town opera, and several books of satire and philosophy. His activated teaching includes years on the music faculties of UCLA and Cal Poly Pomona.
Seedlings
By Ronald G. Carrillo
These Eagle Rock nights
Of my loneliness
Cathedral spirits stir
In a purple mist
Of memory
Unrequited affection
Was Sophomore rejection
Smuggled in
Those Cathedral gates
Scholarship boys traded
For Hollywood landscapes
Coming into our own
The hippie boys of high school
Paraded in glitter and platforms
Signaling the flash
Of desires kept inside
Liars of our own
True value
Sinking in the riptide
Of self despised
False molds
Status quo barriers
Burying us alive
Until finally
The faggot fur flies
Inner core
Heart of hearts
No longer denied
Recognizing
Never verbalized
Our seedlings sprout
Their first leaflets
All in secret code
Amongst birds of a feather
Flocking together
In pink flamingo sanctuaries
Then to fly
And feel comfortable
In our own skin
Let this new life
Begin
Meeting him
Seeing him
For the first time
Talking to him
Being close to him
Even kissing him
Fireworks
The Summer of 1972
His name was Sean
He was a doorman
At an under twenty-one
Gay night club
Sweet and empathetic
Novice feet
Dipping my toe
Into the stream
Of teenage romance
He read me like a book
I waited for his call
Not to be
Gone to blue
In sad Cinderella shoes
Blown off course
In this strange new
Geography
Those gay days
Of self-hate
Abandonment
Men meet
Compete
Like gladiators
In disco arenas
Depleted me
Of my innocence too soon
Eclipsed the Eros moon
Back to listening
To Joni Mitchell epistles
Leaving the garden
Of my youth
Exploring new lands
Mind traps
Of foolish untruths
To drink in
The eyes of men
Unable to touch
Their hearts
An unaffectionate
Father’s disinheritance
Plagued me
A self absorbed
Mother’s poverty
Were my silver spoons
Born a stranger
In another cruel land
That would be
Against me
Baptized in the blues
Of that love
That Oscar testified
Dare not speak
Its name
Collecting dues
On the Hollywood
Streets
Deepening the hues
Of desire
And kindness
From strangers
Looking for the clues
Of my existence
In movies
And the music
Tendaberry
And Gibsom Street
Speak to me
Lover man
Captains sailors
Tom cats
Of every color
Calico men
With fickle regard
Regard me
The lion
Has awakened
From a deep slumber
A hibernation
From the lamb
Mercy and salvation
Sought through drink
And assimilation
Humiliation
On weekend sojourns
In undercover garb
Needing a romantic
Sabbatical
The scales
Of my balance
Off kilter
Coda: Tennessee exiting
A serious streetcar
Of conformity
Walking to a shoe factory
Daily
Like giving blood
After morning coffee
Rise and shine
Walk the line
Eight to five
To stay alive
Mother and sister
On the ropes
Of survival
The old man
Escaped town
Tennessee took hold
Of the reins
Of a father’s discontent
Inheriting an absent parent
Becoming his father
While hating his mother
I recognize a brother
Of high regard
Going down
In a sinking ship
So ill equipped
For dry land
Going through
Disaster motions
To hang on
Getting drunk
Reckoning adventure
From anywhere
Writing poetry and stories
During a pirate’s lunch
Gentlemen callers
And bits of glass
Under the sliver
Of a white wedge
Of moonlight
Far off in the mist
Stanley hollers “Stella”
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.
SOCIAL MEDIA
By Courtney Olanzapine
City lights once again I waved you goodbye
Friends! Friends found!
You'll be there on and off, like an agonizing bulb
Where else can you go?
It's a tapestry weaved with many a face
And it's a crowded highway leading nowhere
Slowed down conversation
Slowed down time
Is this it? Or just a pantomime?
Haphazard, overdue interest
In this night, the city as lonely as it gets
At this weird ballroom where we sell simplified selves,
With all its royal emptiness
You can cry. You can recklessly stay
(You'll go on and off, like an agonizing bulb)
Or like a flower you can spread
Courtney Olanzapine is a neurodivergent artist from Madrid, Spain, that devoted many years to study English Literature and she started writing in English. She’s also an outsider painter in her Instagram and her poems deal with the struggles and joys of being a madwoman in the crazy era we live in, made out of capitalism and Tinder, but also sprinkled with love, comradeship, and beauty. She loves glitter, mythology, psychology and everything punk, because punk is passionately being yourself, and that’s her highest aim.
Pic: Christine Bullard
Poem
By Christine Bullard
Toxic trash smoke fills my lungs in Kaštel Novi
Bronchitis sets in...deep
Why pollute the air you breath
What about the youth and old
Perhaps they adapt
Generations live in living museums
Behind walled cities
Inside castle walls
Century's of story telling
Most have been told
Some we'll never know
The Adriatic sea with dramatic shades of blue
Islands, boating and floating
Croatia, I love you 🇭🇷
Christine Bullard is a native Angeleno from Highland Park. As seen in Dwell and other magazines, she's an architectural photographer, LA realtor, a professional bellydancer, and recently became an Italian citizen living a digital nomadic life traveling throughout Europe.
Love is not
3/28/24
By Lady Luuuna
Love is not the wounds you inflict,
In hopes of another's downfall,
Making them believe they are deserving of empty nothingness.
Love would not destroy a smile with a pit of frowns,
And make another believe to be a cowardice clown,
Who's heart of happiness is meant to burn bitter,
Because of their own misfortune and wither.
Love would not call you all names other than your own,
And adopt you to traits that isolate u alone,
Into believing you are someone that you hadn't been raised to know.
Love is not whose toxicity screams care,
Whose anger screams passion, admiration, and fair.
Love is not the one to leave me alone and bare,
To survive on my own and expect me to chase them as if I fear my own company.
Love would not leave me hanging dry after leaving me soaking wet in the cold for some time. It would warm me up and keep me dry,
Away from, avoiding, molding in between the lines.
My love does not ache or chase is despair,
For a damaged soul to yearn for what they can't see is there,
Right in front of them, light and peace they cannot see,
Love would not chain me and keep me from being set free.
My name is Ashley Wiggin and I'm 25 years old from San Diego, CA. I have a love for all arts and enjoy pursuing in writing poetry and painting majority of the time, when I'm not taking care of the other responsibilities of life.
Ur Killing Me
3-10-2024
5:46 pm
By Mary Cheung
What doesn't kill me...
Just makes me wanna puke...
Out my guts.
Out my sanity,
Out my humanity.
Just so that I can become a robot for you.
And continue to churn Out goods to keep this machine running.
This commerce coming,
Well ain't that sumthing.
To viewers in HD, so much product to see!
But nothings for free.
For my life I sold to thee.
To keep the revenue flowing,
cuz the big wigs needs to keep his income a growing.
Built on the backs of our sweat.
Our tears are running a river of red.
The days bled into each other.
The calendar dotted with numbers and names.
Each day's a shuffling variation,
It feels like an unwinnable game.
And if you didn't own me b4,
well you sure do now.
Got me on a tether,
Tripping up my weekends and how!
Time lost so precious and few.
Some parents whose children will grow up foreign,
all because of you.
Missing their school recital.
Missing chaperoning their first school trip.
Or maybe missing their Halloween parade.
now that, ain't too hip.
But these are the sacrifices that we make.
As parents, as humans to make a livelihood.
Crosses a line, when it crosses your life
that can't be very good.
Cuz we need more then just work,
to balance out the gift that is called life.
We need to carve out the space to remember that we have a husband or a wife.
Don't know why they call it working.
Because this feels more like a slow torture and exercise of endurance and of faith.
Leaves me counting the days until it's over.
So I'll stick it out and hang onto, my previous four leaf clover.
Until then I can only wonder,
where this road is taking me,
To an early grave?
if so what shall they engrave?
On the slate, on the plaque above me head.
Here's lies....... with stitches in her vein and pins stuck in her head..
Mary Cheung is a multi-disciplinary artist. She has been creating art since she was young. Grew up the youngest in a family of eight. She came to America at the age of 2 and grew up in San Francisco. Attended American school during the day and Chinese school at night.
Mary has an AA degree in Fashion Design and a Best Costume Design Award from the NAACP. She often creates costumes for her art narratives and creations. Sometimes building the sets as needed.
Mary was the Producer for the Santa Rosa Spring Festivals 2011 and 2012 which incorporated live performances and festival games.
She produced the EVOLUTION Music and Arts event in 2013.
LUSCIOUS, Music Art, Live Body paint Art Event IN 2014 followed by
OPEN FLOOR IMPROV EXPERIMENT whose purpose was to engage the community, encourage local business growth and artists involvement. Her real passion and drive come from being able to engage the community while bringing hope, healing, joy, and human connection.
It is her goal to be able to continue to do this while making an impact on society’s values and thinking.
“I hope that I can be a role model for others to find their own true voice in life through my art."
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
20 Years Left is now a short documentary!!!! Screening at a living room near you!!!!
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 her last seven years of employment 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/https://
shoutoutla.com/meet-linda-kaye-poet-poetry-and-theatrical-producer-filmmaker/