SHE CHRONICLES: “Enough” a poem by Deana Verse

The crazy part is that i know i dont miss you

i really truly miss what i thought we had so frikn bad
like an ache that wont leave…

i vascilate between living without you and and living with the lie you had presented me with

the lesser of three evils because either way i would wind up hurt
damn!

never been the lonely type

always been the drinking type

this lonely-ish mixed with drinking has invented a new type
at least for me

i would love to stumble upon in real life the facade we existed in for fake and take residence

i deserve it

you suck!

and you know you deserve that!

but i digress…

vodka plus emotions = this poem and had i not erased your number i would probably call you, but i erased itr for this very reason because i do not need to give myself something else to regret.

you were enough!

Deana is a host, producer, event planner and writer living in Los Angeles.  The Ohio native remembers the day that a relentless depression pushed pen to pad resulting in her first poem.  Deana has hosted over 13 shows over the past ten years from charity events, fundraisers, music events and featured poetry shows.  She has been performing in the LA area for over 15 years and is considered a trailblazer for women performers, producers of poetry.

Find her on Facebook here

SHE CHRONICLES: “Stones” a poem by Deana Verse

They say iron sharpens iron

discovered gratitude for the wrong way you grind against my existence

Just right enough to render me sharp samurai sword like against the white meat of discontent

I am a dull blade on purpose with you

Never understood the attacks festering beneath my tears

Never knew the demise i fathomed

Come true  of our union

I protect you fervently

Pray for the same incessantly

Ingesting disapointment like

Tequila shot

Jaws tight, teeth clenched

A familiar burn

They say

Constant bashing cracks the hardest of stone

I am a hidden vulnerable with you

Crepe paper under metal plate

 i cringe at the site of stones

Fists for stones

Tongues for stones

Eyes for stones

Your judgments  span the  entirety of senses

Sticks and stones crack Windows and souls

You  are toddler clumsy with my emotions…

some days i feel like a skyscraper (part II)

Somebody had to do it. And somebody had to re-member. I was there. And it’s not that I want to be given some glory or plaque. I just want artists to know that it wasn’t 1961 when the Los Angeles poetry scene displayed this disproportionately approach to female poets. And now it is so natural for females to get features and travel but not too long ago we were blatantly denied this. And Jaha, Bridget, Rachel and I really changed the perception of when female poets should be allowed to eat.

Did we pave the way? Call it whatever feels good to you. But I know I was there when humiliation and doubt was given to us from our male peers. I was there when the men performers would get paid a different amount than us at the very same show. I was there when our male peers thought the best position for any of us would be next to them in a relationship and when he was denied he campaigned a “she’s gay” rally to save his reputation.

I saw Roni take poetry to the Hollywood comedy clubs.

I saw Sandra, Alice the Poet and MstMuze operate the longest running all female poetry venue in Los Angeles to date.

I saw Deana produce/host sold out poetry shows inside restaurants on Sunset Blvd.

And all I’m saying is, this happened after she/we shared stories and almost cried because we thought we were alone in feeling so indigent for expression. Some days I feel like a skyscraper in the Los Angeles poetry scene. Standing bold, cold and razor sharp with the moods of mother nature, not being erased from the series anytime soon. My love for Jaha, Rachel and Bridget is beyond an ordinary means of measurement. We were there, when it felt like 1961.