Tag Archives: los angeles poets

SHE CHRONICLES: Video Post, Jaha Zainabu

“Stories that come to me in the middle of the night from folks I don’t know.  Don’t have nothing to do with me except they know I know how to get a pray through and a story straight.”

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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!

deanareed

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…

Continue reading SHE CHRONICLES: “Stones” a poem by Deana Verse

SHE CHRONICLES: “Story #2,262,017” by Alice The Poet

SHE CHRONICLES: “Story #2,122,017” by Alice The Poet

Story #2,122,017, Week 6 Reflection – So earlier this week I have a conversation with a man who tells me that I am “not like other African American women.” What does that even mean? I’m hardworking, focused, loving. I’m navigating this life, working at balance (keeping God first and joy close). We only share positive things in our conversation. Why does that make me different? I see it as just another form of disunity. Unfortunately for some, there is a distinction (with hierarchy) between “types” of Black women globally; the African American woman being lowest on the ladder. Malcolm X specifically pointed out the Black woman in America (the African American woman) as being the most “disrespected … unprotected [and] neglected.” It is demonstrated not just in our portrayal, but also in our treatment. With his back-handed compliment, this Black man from Liberia demonstrates the sad reality of one of colonialism’s greatest and far-reaching tools, the practice of divide and conquer. I am thinking of wise, powerful, beautiful, kind and caring women like my grandmother-ancestors, my mother, my aunts, my sisters, my cousins, my friends, my colleagues and co-workers, all of the African American women I am like and those I strive to be more like (Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, Ida B. Wells, Mary McLeod Bethune, Lucille Times, Zora Neale Hurston, Clarice Brown, Coretta Scott-King, Oprah, Betty Shabazz, Michelle Obama, Sonia Sanchez, Assata Shakur, Angela Davis, and so many more) as I respond, “That’s not true! I’m just like African American women and proud of it!” 
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Alice The Poet (Alice Nicholas) is a PhD student in the Department of Africology and African American Studies at Temple University. Her research interests include Black Diasporic literature, Black literary theory, Black love and Black liberation. She has presented papers and research at national conferences and cultural festivals. Her articles, essays, poetry and other writings have been published in both scholarly and artistic publications including African American Review, Encyclopedia of African Cultural Heritage in North America, Imhotep and the Zora Neale Hurston Society.  In 1999, she created the10 Million Stories series (collections of poetry, short stories and essays) as a demonstration of self-discipline, self-definition and self-publication. She is currently completing volume 9.
Contact: AliceThePoet@yahoo.com or

Keeping My Nose This Time

       “It is not enough to be a woman writer. It is imperative that we are women writers who write about other women, responsibly.  Otherwise, we’ll continue to write rebuttals on misrepresentation or the utter absence of our literary presence.”

Recently I returned to the city that grew my art, Los Angeles, California.  It is not the city I was born and reared in, however; it is the city that I consider home.  Where I grew into a woman and an artist.

Not expecting anyone to write my story, a few years back I had the audacity to write a piece of Los Angeles poetry HERstory that was not talked about.  What prompts this post is, during my recent visit to Los Angeles when I spoke about this information in front of a crowd, I was asked to be mindful and tell the “whole story” of LA women in poetry.  Interestingly enough, I’ve never seen the “whole story” written by my male comrades nor during my visit did I hear any conversations that announced the “whole story” of women in poetry.  The four day span I was in Los Angeles, when “the good ‘ole days” conversations came up, there was a repeated rundown of the male figures that were prominent in the foundational game but the women were harmoniously absent from the listings.

Continue reading Keeping My Nose This Time