Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 9.28.01

Wham! Bam! Wanna Slam?!

For those who've been sleepin' in on my writing skills, it's about to be on... it's about to be on! Ooooops! Rewind!

Thought there for a moment I was channeling Wyclef Jean... What I wanted to say is, for those who have slept through the 2000/2001 slam poetry season, it's time to wake up. The 2001/2002 season has begun.

This week, both Hollywood and Los Angeles had their first qualifying slams of the season. Da Poetry Lounge hosted a large crowd (as usual) on Tuesday and chose the first two slam semi-finalists in a tight competition. Five poets made the final round: In-Q, Jovan, Jerry Quickley, Azikiwe, and (LitRave's own) Jelena. In the end, In-Q came out victorious with a score of perfect 60. Jovan also qualified for the semis with the score of 59.7 points.

Los Angeles team held their first official slam of the season on Thursday night, and also got their first two semi-finalists: Thea and Gimel aka King Lyric G. In the final round, the two of them competed against Shihan and Azikiwe, and even though Gimel scored a perfect 30 with his poem "Reflections," that was still not enough for this current LA Team member to beat the "rookie," Thea. You go, sister! It's good to see that female energy is appreciated in poetic circles.

So, congrats to In-Q, Jovan, Thea, and Gimel! And for you sleepyheads, the next qualifying LA slam is on the last Thursday of October. Wake up and smell the coffee at Tanner's! And while you are there, soak up all that good poetry and Jedi's positive vibes. It's good for your soul...

Slamming, jamming, ranting, and raving for LitRave,
Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon

Leslie Moore 9.26.01

Peace & Love to everyone! I went to Poetic License last night. It was so nice to see everyone. Thea Iberall was a great feature. I loved her poem, "Abracadabra." Just what I needed. XOX, Leslie

Nancy Lambert 9.18.01

Poetic License Unplugged

"No mike tonight," says Jaffe. "to keep the reading at a certain level." He opens the reading with a poem by Shel Silverstein, "Mr. Smends and Mr. Spats," just in case we have the crazy idea that terrible things in the world can stop us from loving each other through poetry.

First up: Brandon, in his white t-shirt with sweet "degenerate" literally written all over it. "The fastest thing I've learned in the aftermath of a natural tragedy," he says, "is to turn the TV off." We're off to a thoughtful evening. Mani Suri expresses it like this: "I am a pacifist filled with brutal thoughts: vengeance." Mary Cahill, remembering that "...there in the midst of it, some were met by angels," reminds us, concerning the power of terrorists, that "...our destiny is not in the hands of men like these."

But poetry has cadence, has the human voice and a body behind it, other people in the room. It rises to the occasion of grief like a child's searching question, and mere excerpts don't cut it. Is there a through-line? Do I just kind of hope there is? "The lord's awful mercy will, in time and tears, restore us," Pete Justus says. To which Alice Pero seems to reply, "...Take those solid forms you see," she says: "mud, thick parts of buildings. You fill in the answers."

Maybe the mud begets answers, or coalesces into the "stones," as Russell Salamon says, which "soften, as we look deeper into our freedom." Maybe, as Jaffe's asserts "as artists, there is one thing we do, and do incredibly well -- we create." But this doesn't stop him from asking, "If it falls, will it be heard?" He tells us, regarding the day after September 11th, "...I am afraid to sleep tonight because last night I slept like a baby, and when I woke it was a nightmare."

Hart Fisher, no stranger to personal nightmare, offers us strength: "I been seeing a lot of candles on TV," he says, "but I don't see a lot of people changing file://....I don't wanna see no poem. I just want to see one person change at a time." Next up after Hart, introducing his own rapid-fire piece of wild alliteration, David Delmonico reads from Hermann Hesse: "Outside was reality,...but here, inside, was love." Carl Stilwell (with three "l"s and not four to his name, we're reminded), finds black-comic passion in the scatological highjinks of high school bathroom graffiti, a passion taken up by Justice Brother #2, Gary, whose prayer for joy, as always, taps the wells of music, dance, and a shared bionic beat.

All this unfolding into something not a flower, but instead our opening soul. As Steve puts it next, "I walk through the miser who long since sold his soul for gold....// I walk till the day peace will replace the bomb." What do we find as we go? Linda La Rose: "I hear you, but you have no body. I taste you, but you have no flavor. I touch you, but you have no skin.../ Hold me in your arms..." because "together we hold the silence."

It's time for the featured poets. Over the next days and weeks, we all will face decisions, Larry Jaffe reminds us, and "in your own decision you will find your strength." He speaks of miracles: "All poets," he says, "are miracles to me." First featured poet is M.C. Bruce, whose work as a public defender has introduced him to the down-and-out people in this world for whom poetry is a gesture, something spoken aloud in the pain and dreams of prisoners confined to real prison cells, under real armed guard, some of them medicated for the same "mental illness" that afflicted Joan of Arc and William Blake and Vincent Van Vogh: "Occasionally we look to the mad for greatness, for art, for the disturbing familiarity of their vision," M.C. Bruce tells us. But...I can't begin to capture it here -- so I purchased his chapbook, "Clients," in order to savor these voices for myself, a tonic maybe for the huge amount of rhetoric coming via television and radio and newspaper and Internet.

Finally...Stazja. Beautiful, glowing, irreverent, and having just completed what must have been the weirdest cross-country plane trip in the world. Stazja McFadyen, whose leaping poetry loves Larry Jaffe and isn't afraid to say so. Even as Larry loves everyone here in this room. Even as we gather our wits and try to make sense of what's happened in the space of a very short week. She takes the stage, offers thanks to Larry, to us, to the world of poets of which she is a proud and grateful part. And I sit and I feel it, electricity, warmth and concern fill the room -- we will fight for this joy. We will come together and work individually because this joy means everything to us, and no terrorist, government-sponsored or otherwise, will ever take this love away.

...and there'll be more, much more to come, Larry tells us. An anthology. A series of Poets4Peace readings all around the country. I think of the wonderful organization Doctors Without Borders...could we come together and create an Artists Without Borders, as well? We need each other, need shared strength. Last night at the Zen, my heart lifted, and I know this is possible. If it's true, as Jaffe says to us, that "every poet is a miracle," then I believe with all of my heart that we must act in the world to make this true, now more than ever before.

People are already doing incredible things. Last night at the Poetic License is just one of them.

Poetic License at the Zen
Tuesdays, 8 p.m.
for info: http://www.poetix.net/http://www.poets4peace.com/

Clients, poems by M.C. Bruce
Swan Duckling Press, 2000
(they're also sponsoring a chapbook contest)
for info: SWDuckling@aol.com

Two Bit Love Poems Cheap,
poetry by Stazja, 2001
for info: stazja@aol.com

You should also check out her Map of Austin Poetry (not limited to Texas, by far). Also...keep reading your local calendars. Many wonderful readings around town! Get outside, make a joyful noise...

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 9.16.01

I must confess, I'm one of those artistic types who keep weird hours and an even stranger diet: I feed myself with poetry... So, where does a poetry addict go for a fill on a Saturday night? Westside, I'd say.

First, you start off with Soul Speech for dinner (at least I did), then proceed to Poets Cabin for late night snacks, and end up at Aftaglow for poetry breakfast. Aftaglow is a weekly early morning hangout for poets, spoken word artists, musicians, visual artists and other artistic types (or artist groupies) housed by Cafe Future and Gallery in Inglewood and hosted by Tovi Khali. Glowing begins officially after midnight, and lasts until 4:00 a.m. every Sunday morning. The lights are low, candles are burning on every table, drummers are drumming, DJ is spinning, poets are speaking, singers are singing, paintings and photographs are hanging from the walls, and Terence and company are making some tasty concoctions in the kitchen. All in all, a perfect late night chill-out spot. And when the closing time rolls around, people are still sitting on the sidewalk, reading poetry and talking to their new poetic friends. If you didn't know, artists are very friendly people...

So, if you are up for a poetic breakfast any given Sunday morning, stop by Cafe Future, get your fill, and tell Terence we sent you.

Glowing at the Aftaglow and raving for LitRave,
Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon

Café Future and Gallery
1314 N. La Brea Ave.
Inglewood
310-671-7775

Wayman Barnes 9.16.01

Bionic B-B-Beats

This was just what I needed. I danced and danced and danced. Gary Justice and buddies were throwing down some great beats. Daniel Yaryan was playing host, very Hefneresque. Above the dance floor they had a film installation of old cartoons from the sixties. The walls were covered with Warhol and Beat posters and plastic action figures. Before I arrived, they had a poetry reading circle. I was told by several people about how great it was. One person even acted out for me a poem they had heard. There were bikers selling hotdogs for some kind of charity and all kinds of people partying outside. The venue was in an industrial area in Van Nuys, very near the airport. The last place one would expect to find such a cool happening. Gary Justice has a website, http://www.garyjustice.com/so check it out and sign up for his mailing list. You will definitely want to go to the next Bionic Beats and dance, dance, dance.

Wayman Barnes 9.16.01

Thaine H Allison Jr. 9.15.01

My Friend in the Park

In other days when I was in need, you listened to my long stories, your ears cocked to take in every detail
Intent you did not respond, it was your patience that made us fast friends Your voice always muted by din of traffic, screams of sirens, laughter of children, sometimes cooing of lovers or pidgins, you offered no judgment
You were the patient one, always there, always my friend I needed an ear, solitude as I sat with you on many afternoons, watching comings and goings, a healing time for me
Now you have heard too many screams, too many sirens, your eyes have seen too much agony
Your muteness in other days served me well, perhaps I can be of service now?
As you served me in your muted solitude, perhaps I can give you a voice this day
Should I clean the dust from your eyes, scour your back of grime and grief, sweep your hair? Is now the time to clear a path for others who seek your council to find their way to your bench?
You heard the sounds of the planes screeching their violent last breath, saw the fire, the anguish from innocent bye-standers
How painful it is for you not to be able speak up and calm fears, tell families of the missing your thoughts and condolences for their grief
Your eyes have seen too many die these last few days, your ears have heard to many screams of the dying and the dead, let me speak to help unburden your heart
You've heard the call to war, the angry words of those who lost a friend, a father, a mother, a child, a parent
The list of those lost, of those who suffer still, is too long to contemplate, but you remember, you heard their voices, one by one
The firemen, the policemen, the president, voices of the living, the dying
Your heart, like mine, carries a heavy burden this day, searching for answers, longing for peace, rejecting revenge
You listen for all of us, eyes and ears grow heavy from the burden of the losses
Thanks for listening all these years, I will lend my voice for you to speak
Patiently we wait for peace in our time, thanks again my friend in the park, next time you will speak, I will listen

© Copyright 9/15/01 Thaine H. Allison, Jr.

Larry Jaffe 9.15.01

Poets For Peace Announces Mission 911

my dear friends,

i am working with Russian born poet and cofounder of Poets for Peace Ilya Kaminsky to create a series of readings to take place during the second week of October (8-14) to benefit the red cross and other organizations asisting with the situation in NYC. All proceeds from the readings will go directly to them. If you are a poet or a host please come to this peaceful call to arms. we are moving very quickly on this project i need to hear from you right away. lets do something very creative and constructive and show the world how strong our community is. and lets show the people of new york that they are not alone.

the web site: http://www.poets4peace.com/911.htm

much love to you Larry

Neil Aitken 9.15.01

REQUIEM
(New York City, September 11, 2001)

this morning comes
unbidden
full of dark words
twin towers burning
while people die inside
and outside ourselves
emptied with knives
and terror

stones fall from gray worlds
above our open eyes

fists are no match f
or police cars covered with debris
the slow rain of bodies from the sky
paper scattering,
unsigned, unknown,
unrecognized

dust so heavy and sharp
the lungs are torn
from breathing
eyes tear
uncontrollably

those with skin
are still gray
and wordless
walking out
and away

we can fear
we can die
we can live
somehow
we will walk on

so many stories
lie at our feet
broken, rough
twisted steel
and concrete verbs
pronouns faint
distant beats in this long sentence
of night

a woman's shoe
rests on a street corner
blocks away from its twin

someone will find it
and bring it home

(Copyright Neil Aitken 2001)
Neil Aitken
http://www.lone-crow.com/

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 9.14.01

Poetry Can Change the World

Last night at Green, there was a poetry reading dedicated to the victims of the Tuesday New York City and Pentagon attacks. Poets gathered to show their emotions and love, and the local community of Culver City came to support. The atmosphere was rather subdued, but the poets still showed what this artistic community is made of: love. Some read their poems inspired by the tragic event (Damon, Kwame, Jelena, D-Lite, Raymond, Artus Mansoir), and others joined in with their messages of intercultural and interracial understanding, tolerance and unity. The audience was encouraged to get on the mic as well if they wanted to share their thoughts and feelings, and that resulted in a very moving and inspiring personal account of a young Persian woman who lived through the Iran Revolution. Her message was one of peace and tolerance, which was the general tone of the whole reading, notwithstanding some opinions that the US should retaliate. Still, the evening ended with a message of love, and we hope that this message reaches farther than the poetry community, farther than this city, and is adopted by the whole nation, because violence begets only more violence, and love begets more love. At this time, love is what we all need desperately.

Nancy Lambert 9.14.01

It is tremendously important that we always seek the truth, however impossible a goal that might seem. So far there is one inescapable truth in this incident: people are dead, people who in all their lives never dreamed of hurting anybody. In my mind, this holds true for anyone else in the world -- moslems, jews, bosnians, chinese, the list goes on and on -- who has ever been subjected to terror. A government may do it; an individual or a "cell" may perpetrate it, yet it is terror all the same. We must remember this. It is the one understanding that will help us grow from this experience. I believe we are capable -- with god's help (whoever or whatever god means to each of us), manifest in love and compassion for all our fellow human beings.
Nancy Lambert

Kwento 9.14.01

new friends,

i am a new poet to this forum. i originally joined in the hopes of gathering some of your poetry and good energy to take with me on my trip to d.c. later this month during the imf/world bank meetings.

now i am writing you for other, obvious reasons.

i send my wishes of peace and love to everyone, and especially, my condolences to those personally touched by this tragedy.

i am deeply troubled by some specific developments taking shape around the events. i will try keep my comments brief.

1. from the beginning, the u.s. media structure has predictably latched onto and flamed rumors of involvement of arab and islamic peoples in this violence. i implore everyone to work in their own community structures to counter the wave of racism and reactionary response taking hold in the american media and consciousness. our arab and islamic sisters and brothers are already suffering from predictable american racism.

2. there are many people working for global change on a variety of political fronts/issues. most of these activities specifically challenge in some way or another the existing corporate/media/state structure of american society and its global policies. i have no doubt that an event of this magnitude will result in a heightened targeting of such efforts and of those who support them, as well as a likely mass-willing abdication of various liberties and freedoms, in the name of addressing "safety concerns." regardless of your political stance, i ask only that you hear and be aware of these concerns in the coming months and years as the full scope of this event unfolds. we all need to be on "high alert," to borrow a current phrase, as to the attacks and terrorism that will be carried out against any and all who may express a dissenting voice, because in the end, it is ALL of our voices that will be under seige.

3. we are riding the wave of an unprecedented media hype machine at the moment. make no mistake--what you see on cnn, msnbc, et al, is driven by corporate interests. take a look around at the war frenzy the masses are being driven into and it is not hard to realize just how dangerous this machine really is right now. i know i am likely preaching to the choir, but there are alternatives to be aware of. along with npr, etc., i would highly recommend examining the information coming out of the independent media centers. la.indymedia.org, nyc.indymedia.org, dc.inymedia.org are all good counters to the mountain of misinformation and hysteria pouring in through your cable line.

again, peace and love to you all. gather round you your punctuation and grammar, your syntax and phonemes. you will need them in the trying times to come. with love, kwento

Nancy Lambert 9.13.01

no title

I want to believe it's the same as it was before,
even though I hated it before.
I hated the mad grab for money.
if as they say poetry is emotion
recollected in tranquility,
maybe I'll never write poetry again.
how will I ever be tranquil now?
if this gives weight to the grief
that has tended to float all my life
like a leaf in air descending
from a tree,
but autumn always harbored
the spring.

and now
instead of a leaf,
I see the body of man tumbling.
is the tumbling man proud?
he stands upside down in thin air
against the building he built
as if the earth he reaches for was always
only the sky.

Nyaze Vincent 9.13.01

September 13, 2001

Nyaze Vincent 9.13.01
The easiest game to play is cowboys and indians. Bad against Good. It doesn't matter who's bad or who's good--the other side will always disagree. Ignorance is ignorance. The world keeps a'gwan round. We play the game. It's fun, really, to feel so much.

My sympathy to those who lost loved ones. Time not only heals all wounds, but in the final analysis, renders them moot.

[sigh] How else do you think Babylon's fall? Nyaze.

Thaine H. Allison Jr. 9.12.01

In the Memory of the Events of 9/11/01

Choose Peace this Aquarelle Day

Aquarelle is the day
this day the day
after I remember other days that left my heart low
The days after John Kennedy died
Bobby Kennedy died
Martin Luther King died
The invasion of Cambodia by American bombers and troops
A song recalls the “day the music died”
We all die a little on these days
But we live on
To remember the translucence of it all
We are the ones who speak up for a peaceful, not vengeful solution
We ask that the violence be dampened not escalated
We ask for peace in the hearts of family and friends who lost those closest to them
A nation mourns its loss this night
Let us focus on the love of those who were taken from us.

Justice among men of law is in the courts not the streets or the battlefields
We can see through the provocation and find the light of truth and justice
We must be strong of heart and soul this night
Eager are those among us who want to kill again in the name of those who died I ask for justice not by war but by peaceful means
The peacemakers are the heroes now, find a way
Let the light shine through the aquarelle night
There is a new day with the passage of the night
The nightmare of the moment
We have the power to chose, choose the nonviolent way
Choose peace
Peace always shines through the layers

Written in Remembrance of those who died 9/11/01 and those who live on 9/12/01
© Thaine H. Allison, Jr. 9/12/2001

Thaine H. Allison, Jr.
Program Director National Writers Association,
Los Angeles Chapter

Zainab Outlaw 9.12.01

I Am a Youthful American Poet with Something to Say

I am only a sophomore in highschool, and the affect of this tragedy has shaken my world as I have known it for my whole life. We have so much anger. But America wouldn't have ever brought up the existance of a country with higher intelligence than we, unless they were our allies. Now that whole mentality is gone, along with the "America is an impenatratable fortress of safety". Which many people enjoyed living their lives by.

~Zainab Outlaw~

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 9.12.01

ON CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
(New York City, September 11, 2001)

A crime was perpetrated
Undisputedly.
All fears broke lose
Like hell
Of glass and melting steel.
Vulnerabilities
Revealed,
Stripped to the bone.
Justice should be done,
You say!
What punishment
Can suit
Such horrendous crime?
The time has come
This day
To vindicate our vengeful action.
Or maybe we should
Concentrate instead
On showing love
As ultimate solution.
Retribution pays
Only by pain.
Haven't we
Had enough already?
The crime was perpetrated
Undoubtedly:
We can barely see
Through our blood-shot eyes.
So, when we rise
To vengeance,
Where do we go?
How do we know what's false
And what is true?
Grant us wisdom this day,
Father;
Forgive them,
For they know not what they do!

(Copyright J. Andjelkovic, September 2001)

Kwame Kamau 9.12.01

911
For your information,
this is not a game.
The sky is falling,
and you're next in line
to get dumped on,
and for more of the same.
You say you've heard it all before?
Well, fine!
Just take the hint.
Does it sound like I'm playin'?
We'll see who laughs last;
that's God's honest truth!
I hope you're listenin' to what I'm sayin' --
or are you too young not to waste your youth?
For your information,
these are the last days;
to think,
it's like we've only just begun.
Kiss me for luck.
I'll need it (hope it pays).
Now is the time!
We live under the gun.

-- Kwame Kamau
(Copyright Kwame Kamau 2001)

Poetic Voices 9.12.01

Yesterday was a day that will remain in the minds and hearts of every American and most of the people of the worlld. I am moved by letters and comfort I've seen throughout the poetry community and have been praying and thinking about our roles as poets.

Poetic Voices has always had a vision of being a forum where the voices of poets would not only ring out to America and the world, but also as a community of people who reach out to each other.

In light of this, I have decided that over the next few days and weeks, we will be calling on all poets to put their voice out there about these events. We ask that you do what you do best and write. Write poems in honor of America, write poems in comfort to victims and families of victims, write poems about the heroes who rise up out of the dust to risk their lives to save others, and write poems about the strength of the American people in the midst of trials.

Submit these poems to us and we will publish them in a special memorial and commentary section of Poetic Voices. All poems will be published that follow the guidelines. Guidelines are as follows:
1- please include your first and last name in addition to your email address
2- please include the town and state you are from, and if from outside the U.S., the city and country.
3- we will not publish any poem that puts down the United States, that supports the attack on Americans, that puts down our leaders, or is abusive. Our intent is to encourage and support, to speak out against this atrocity.
4- we are interested in children's and students responses in addition to the adult poets who read and publish their work. If you are under the age of 18, please state so, because I would like to have a special page for American youth.
5- please send only one poem per poet and include it in the body of the email. No downloads please.

Again, all poems that meet these guidelines will be published in Poetic Voices. Later today, the pages for these poems will be posted and we hope that every day we can post whatever has come in the previous day - so be sure to check with us each day to hear the voices of our poets.

Please send these poems to gracieamL@aol.com. Do not send them to editor@poeticvoices.com as it will be easier for me to flash mail them down at the aol address and save them.

This is an opportunity for us as a community to stand up together and speak out. Let the voices fo the poets in America and the world be heard as a living testimony to compassion and freedom. Share this letter with every poet you know. We will be accepting these poems for publication until they stop coming in.

God Bless you all and God Bless America, peace and poetry,
Robin Travis-Murphree
Executive Editor Poetic Voices
http://www.poeticvoices.com/

Nancy Lambert 9.12.01

Can we work together to bring people together this coming sunday for a special gathering of artists? I will offer my backyard as a meeting place, unless we can get an established venue such as Beyond Baroque to host us. I believe we must act as soon as possible to create an active coalition of people willing to speak out and stand for the many freedoms I believe may be swept aside over the next weeks and months as President Bush declares a war of "good against evil" and militarizes this country. In light of this morning's pronouncements from Washington, I do not believe I am exaggerating the threat. I also believe that, while it is certainly helpful for us to post our feelings of shock and grief to forums such as Litrave and Poetix news and Next, we need to take a step beyond this -- we must act now to create a coalition of artists willing to stand up and speak both throughout and beyond our community. If we are in fact a community of artists, then the time has come for us to demonstrate this to each other and to the rest of the world. We must organize, raise our voices of sanity, and invite everyone -- artists and nonartists alike -- to join us.

I invite suggestions and input from everyone. Tell me what I don't know, help me learn what we can do together to create the world we want it to be -- a world where compassion, rather than vengeance and fear, is the true passion that binds us.

Neil Aitken 9.12.01

I woke yesterday morning to the news of the attack and found myself emptied of emotion and words. At times like these, I long to write -- but cannot find words.

Like Larry, I am grateful for news that all my friends and family are safe, and yet am deeply saddened that many will not have this consolation. So many of our brothers and sisters gone. So much grief.

My prayers are with those families who have suffered losses -- in truth, my prayers are for us all - I doubt that anyone of us has not come through this tragedy untouched in some way.

May peace return - to our country, and to our hearts.
Neil

Gary Justice 9.12.01

Larry Jaffe, and my family in the poetic community have shown me wisdom and conscience, given me the maturity so see beyond vengeance.

Justice can't always be blind, and I realize our collective responsibility as members of a global community, and a country trying to hold on to democracy. Express yourself, be part of the process, be informed, share knowledge, support the community.

Prayers of peace, strength in resiliance, Love is the higher power.
Gary

Larry Jaffe 9.11.01

This day gives one moment to pause, think, and be thankful for many things despite the horror we have experienced. I of course am thankful that my family and friends are safe. This is not the case for many and my heart goes out to them.

We did not have our reading tonight. I did not think it appropriate despite the desire to be close to friends. I thought it best and still do that I reflect on all that has happened. I look upon the day with such horror. Never in my worst most evil thoughts could I wish this upon anyone. As a Jew I see it through those eyes, as an American I look through yet another set, as a spiritual being I see things even differently. However, no matter what eyes I look through, I cannot conceive of this level of hate and violence.

And herein lies the problem, I cannot conceive of it yet someone else obviously could and did. How difficult it is to look at the world with compassion in the face of such hatred.

I realized that we need more patience for each other and that petty arguments should just be allowed to fall away. Our pettiness as a race gets in the way of our freedom. Forgiveness for such is important. Enemies are not friends you have petty fights with. Those are not real enemies. And it is stupid to hold onto such grudges... Not after today.. Not after seeing what true enemies are like.

I went out for a walk and found myself looking very closely at everyone and everything. All was under my scrutiny. And I realized I could not live like that.. Being so careful that I could not allow myself to be free. So I reversed that concept and took off those chains that inhibited me and I greeted every passerby like we were in the old west and each was comrade or bunkmate or friend. I was not smiling outside.. Nor in... The horror of the day too strong. But I felt better. No, I did not want to hug everyone who walked by.. I just simply wanted to greet them.. And I did so. I felt better for it. I hope they did too.

It is so quiet without airplanes flying overhead.

much love to you
Larry

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 9.11.01

We all are ONE, and what hurts our brothers and sisters hurts us, too. Still, this too shall pass, Nancy. This too shall pass... And all of us will be stronger for it. We are ONE.

Nancy Lambert 9.11.01

As Larry Jaffe has said today, we all need to stay in touch, to remember who we are. Can we use this forum as a way to say what's on our mind and in our heart? I know we can. We stand for everything the horror does not. That's all I can say right now I'm so much in shock by today's events. What do the rest of you think?

Wayman Barnes 9.11.01

I have been asked to open this forum page for people to comment and discuss today's tragedy. Please feel free to write whatever you want or need to. And try to keep your chin up. Everything will be okay, I think.

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 9.11.01

LEIMERT PARK AFTER DARK OR ROUNDS AND SQUARES

What do you get when you combine a round man, a few round drums, round-robin promotion, and Leimert Park after dark? The answer is "Revolutionary Minded" poetry.

Revolutionary Minded is a brand spanking new poetry venue in Leimert Park hosted by Babu and housed at the former 5th Street Dick's. The joint made its official debut on Monday, September 10th, and if a weekly show can be judged by its debut, this one is going to be red hot.

The house was packed with poets, spoken word artists, and musicians. The mic was open, the sage was burning, the food was cooking, and cool beats were playing in the background. Yawo, Ron, and Ed on drums and Artus Mansoir on guitar (no, this rhyme was not intended!) provided some smooth accompaniment while the poets followed each other on stage to raise the temperature higher and higher. It all started with two poems by Jackie Big, followed by the gracious host Babu and his quasi-Shakespearian poem "To B or Not To B." Then, Kenny B. got the ladies' attention with his ode to a Black woman and another very mellow love poem. Rochelle "Charm"-ed us with her "Hearing Confusion," and Thea got everybody's attention with two powerhouse poems about God, gratefulness, and manifesting one's own strength. Rowinism showed himself "From the Inside Out" and confessed that "sometimes life is just too hazy," and LitRave's own Jelena (yes, that's me!) followed. Then, Shawnette stepped to the mic, followed by Bridget Gray ("High Yellow School") who talked about her rare form of amnesia ("I have a rare form of fatal amnesia, for I have forgotten how to breathe..."). The host of "Inner Verse," Yawo, talked about "Well, well, well..." what else but "Change." Vanessa read a few entries from her journal and decided to "Jump Today." Gimel admitted to "feeling incomplete" and brought the house down talking about his "Reflections" over a cool Afro beat. Nafeesa was next, then Gina Nicole, followed by Dr. Flow. Then, they brought Sekou to the stage. He dedicated his rhymes "to brothas who don't blast everybody" and got the ladies positively swooning. Babu then declared that "Round Is Good, Square Is Bad..." and nobody complained, 'cause they liked the sound of the round drums, and the roundabout way poets got onto the mic, and the food served from the round Kweny's kitchen. Babu was followed by Love Child, Ghasai (sorry, brother, if I misspelled your name!), C-Bone Jones, and Sesi Ras. Then, Artus Mansoir sang a marvellous "...Life is an amusement park, so come inside..." and talked about "Thinker's Brain." A man called Otherwise came up to the mic to rap, but forgot his lines and proceeded to freestyle about freestyle and positively bring the house down.

Most LA poetry "icons" were in the house (Alice The Poet, Tovi Khali, Gina Loring, Poetri the Poet...) and getting ready to speak. Still, the early morning hours were rolling around pretty quickly, and your humble reporter had to leave. Chantee's song "You can never tell what's on man's mind" rang in the air, drum beat was spilling down the street, and half-moon was peering through the clouds. A picture perfect night in Leimert Park after dark! So - as Babu would say - next time, be there or be SQUARE!

Upcoming feature poets are Tovi Khali on September 17th, C-Bone Jones on September 24th, and Bridget Gray on October 1st. Be there or... ya know!

Revolutionary Minded Poetry

Mondays 9:00 (closer to 10:00) PM to 1:00 AM

3335 W. 43rd Place Leimert Park

(former 5th Street Dick's, between Vision Theatre and Project Blowed)

Lingering poetically in Leimert Park and raving for LitRave,

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 9.9.01

WELCOME TO THE CABIN!

Poets Cabin, that is... Poets Cabin is a brand new poetry venue on the Westside, and all you poetry hosts out there are probably thinking, "There goes another poetic suicide attempt!" C'mon! We all know how hard it is to start and maintain a quality poetry venue in this city. Well, there are still some brave (or innocent) souls out there who think mission impossible is actually quite possible. And their names are Apple and Ursula.

These two brave ladies are making their "baby steps" in the attempt to revitalize the art life in the Pico/Fairfax area. Both of them are singers (and quite generous hostesses, I must admit), and the vision for the Poets Cabin is that it should in time become a "safe haven" for all types of artists: poets, musicians, visual artists, dancers... you name it. Poets Cabin debuted on August 25th, and is currently running every Saturday night. The time of the show is still negotiable, but the open mic generally starts around 9:00 p.m. and then the night continues with featured artists until 1:00 a.m. And this weekend had some mighty good artists performing, I must admit.

The night started with Macho and Rafi of Tunnel Rats fame on the open mic. And they rocked it! Then, the first featured reader followed: Bridget Gray. Needless to say, Ms. Gray was more red hot than anything. Second featured reader was LitRave's own Jelena (yes, that's me!), followed by some amazing acapella musical performances by Ursula and Apple. Tiffiney Scott was the next poetic feature, and she got lots of love from the audience, although she admitted she couldn't write love poems. The night ended with an aural delight in the form of A.K. Tony. If you frequent the World Stage in Leimert Park, you know what I'm talking about, and if you don't, then you'd better get your fine selves over to the Poets Cabin, because A.K. is becoming a regular.

All in all, there is another promising poetry venue in town. And, while you are listening to some spoken word and singing, don't think you'd go hungry either. Poets Cabin takes place in a restaurant. Soul food restaurant, for that matter. And if you happen to be a vegetarian (somewhat like the undersigned), there is something for you, too. Definitely check out their candied yams. You'd be refilling your order a few times, I bet.

Poets Cabin

at Maurice's Snack & Chat

5549 W. Pico Blvd.
(between Fairfax and La Brea)
Every Saturday night from 9:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m.

Poetically contemplating Poets Cabin and raving for LitRave,
Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon

Nancy Lambert 9.7.01

No Poetic Justus? Rapp Saloon

You had to be there. I could say all kinds of stuff about how great, how wonderfully eclectic and totally alive the evening was. You couldn't even call it a "reading," exactly, with several people doing songs and comedy. When is comedy not a poem? When is a song in musical notes more like a poem than the poem itself? I don't know. It's like trying to ask, when is truth?, or what is the precise chemical composition of the poetic phrase or stanza that gives you a chill, or makes your fingertips tingle, or finds you nodding or moving your body in a strange new dance right along with the poet? Rapp was like that last night -- a self-combusting glow made up of equal parts nerviness, tart humor, melody, and brave new heart. I sat and tried to write it all down, gorgeous phrase by phrase, but it's really impossible: Tracy Witt's "imaginary millionaires on a sinking ship." The impossible-to-quantify "Jimmy Durante cell phone song" by the inimitable Dana Snow. Michelle Daugherty's moving "there are mirrors used to be in pretty rooms," asking the simple, true question: "why can't we want what we are?" Then there's Rick Weinburger -- imagining a crossroads where gods of classic Greek mythology bump against the metallic ping of 19th- and 20th-century technology. And after Rick, Robin Manos, the featured poet, offering a series of sweetly delivered but ennervating poems about sex and love (and sex) on the dark side of the street. Next up, Patrick Hanifan, breaking Robin's bewitching spell with laugh-out-loud tales about 1) his crummy car, 2) why other people have it backward, 3) the oklahoma bowling-alley karaoke queen, and 4) all the while snapping the stuff like crazy, 100 ways to astound your friends using common carton-stuff bubble-wrap.

Next up, the moon man himself (and Rapp co-host), Gary Justice ("I seek sacred dark spaces between the syncopation/and try to find the mind of God"). Terry McCarty countered his dry McCarty-esque "job interview" with a poem to his bride-to-be, Valerie ("I locked the doors and left the keys inside...") that had me turning my head around to see, sitting in the back row, the glowing woman who inspired so much love. Next, Neil Aitken, reading from two new chapbooks: "No Matter Death" and "Through Fields" (from "Morning in America," written after the McVeigh execution: "she wants to write her fear and her anger on his cement-pale skin. "// "...on the freeway.../where stray dogs mark their exit from this world...") -- oh, I give up. You just can't catch the beauty and depth of Neil's poems in any single line or two. You have to read it from beginning to end.

Donn Dedonn, whose Heather Long remains in Canada pending INS correction of its terrible mistake, brought her to us through his simple, humbling gratitude ("I tasted your fear with the tip of my tongue and found it sweet..." "In the warmth of the candlelight, you call me beautiful. Thank you."). I read next; followed by wiry-guy Gabe Cousins, sharing a few of his 180,000 words of "music and mime"; then by Rapp host Pete Justus, closing the evening with words about loss and courage -- "You can't be hurt without loving.../you can't love without taking a chance" -- that say out loud, for me, what the Rapp Saloon is all about. You should go down there some Friday night.

Rapp Saloon
hosted by Pete Justus and Gary Justice
Friday nights, sign-ups 7:30 p.m.,
reading starts at 8:00
Located in the Hostelling International building
at 1436 2nd St. in Santa Monica
(between Broadway and Santa Monica Blvd.)
Parking available in nearby parking structures.

Frankie Drayus 9.5.01

Neil Aitken Features at the Ugly Mug
a.k.a. Wayman the Punctual Sinner

I'm sick I can't breathe, my head is full of mucus and fluff but it's my poetic little brother's debut feature 76 frigging miles away and what am I supposed to do? What I always do, of course: call Wayman and see if I can talk him into driving. When he arrives at my place, five minutes early as usual, I am still in my hot pink satin bathrobe. It matches my runny nose. I would have been ready if he arrived when I asked, or even a few minutes later, but he never does. Wayman Barnes is the most punctual person I know. And this is an unforgivable sin.

Through a handful of tissue, I say, “Here is where you are supposed to say I don't look nearly as bad as I sound.” Wayman merely smiles and says nothing. I remember back to kindergarten my teacher instructing: if you can't say anything nice about someone…

Wayman sitting smugly on my couch reading my latest New Yorker makes me want to give him an indian burn. Then I realize we haven't left yet and he could still reneg on driving all the way to Orange, last bastion of the Republicans. So I'm very quiet (for me anyway) until we pull out of my driveway, roll a block or so down the street. But before I even start telling him the best way to get to the freeway or to watch out for the speed bumps he always ignores, I notice he is playing a Nixon speech on tape. Fascinating and a grand departure from the usual techno stuff he assaults my ears with. I wonder is this is the famed “Checkers” speech and listen intently until something disturbs my concentration: Wayman is shouting, “Well aren't you going to say anything about this tape?”

“I was just thinking how interesting it was.” I try to sound very interested.

“Well if it isn't driving you nuts ” and he yanks it out of the dash and tosses it into his pristine backseat. Wayman's car is always cleaner than mine. This annoys me.

He replaces the tape with Prodigy. If you aren't familiar, Prodigy sounds like 12 parts techno and one part thrash-Metallica, all turned up to ear-splitting decibel levels. Then it repeats.

As the windows of the car begin to shake he looks sideways at me. “I'm so glad you put this in,” I tell him, “because I haven't heard it since I left for the east coast. Makes me feel like I'm truly home.” I sigh sweetly.

He makes a noise that sounds a lot like Grrrrr and offers to put on a different tape. I insist on listening to this one. I know it's a mix tape and my favorite Red Hot Chili Peppers song is coming up if I can hold out for just a little longer. I can't hear much anyway with this cold. I fumble for more tissue and try to ignore the screaming lyric Feel the pressure!

Wayman believes in taking at least six freeways to get anywhere, particularly if a direct route exists. But I have to hand it to him this time we make it to Orange from West LA in the height of rush hour in 35 minutes flat. The quickest route anywhere in Southern California has nothing to do with straight lines, but every time we crisscross the jammed 405 I feel compelled to remind him that the 76 mile readout on mapblast is only relevant if we actually follow the directions.

We arrive at least half an hour early (oh, cardinal sin). The owner takes an instant dislike to us, particularly to Wayman. Wayman slips me some cash and persuades me to go up to the counter and buy his drink.

“I'm afraid he'll spit in it if he's knows it's for me.” I oblige, sweet-talk the owner so that he can concentrate all of his personality disorder on Wayman, and tell him I've got a cold.

“You poor thing. I'm so sorry.” When I bring Wayman his mocha with whip he counts his change, stops, then says, “You didn't TIP him, DID you?!”

“But of course I did. After that time you called me a cheapskate, I always make sure to tip the barrista at least 20%” He blinks several times before making that sound again the one that sounds a lot like Grrrrr.

Wayman Barnes 9.5.01

Two Idiots and an Ugly Mug

This was the invitation we received: "Join this LA-based poetic traveler [Neil Aitken] for an odyssey that will span from the fields of Northern Saskatchewan to the inner landscapes most poets dare not explore... and, he's got a poem that references Rabbit Lake. How can you not love Rabbit Lake??!"

How could we not go??!

Of course, when we found out that it was in Orange, CA, we had to give it some serious thought. Did we really want to be there after dark? With all those OC Republicans??! Hell, no! But we could not let our buddy, Neil, face them alone. So away we went.

The venue, Ugly Mug Caffe, was a converted house filled with antiques, Lava Lamps, and Rudolph Valentino posters. Very cool looking.

The reading, Two Idiots Peddling Poetry, was one idiot short. The host, Ben, had to fend for himself. He made everyone feel welcome and kept things moving.

The open mic readers (Zainab Outlaw, John Thonn, Frankie Drayus, Alpha, Wayman Barnes) all did an excellent job.

The feature, Neil, was very impressive. He read from his brand new chapbooks and had a beautiful sister to boot. He has a lot of features coming in the near future, so go out of your way to see him.

He also has a website: http://www.lone-crow.com/

All in all, with the exception of Wayman nearly getting thrown out of the venue by the owner, we had a very wonderful evening.

Two Idiots Peddling Poetry

Wednesdays at 8

Ugly Mug Caffe

261 North Gassell Ave.

Orange

714-997-5610

http://www.poetryidiots.com/

Nancy Lambert 8.31.01

Cafe Vibe Open-Mic Songwriting and Poetry, Sherman Oaks

One of those old-fashioned, no-franchise coffee dives. You have to fend off the espresso machine roar and the traffic on Ventura Boulevard, not to mention the many local and not-local passerby who can care less about listening to poetry/songs, they just want that coffee to go. But the small stage area is cut-out perfect for playing to a meandering crowd ranging from old men playing chess in the back to young turks and their hip-hop girls intensely conversing at that big table smack in the middle of your poem about war, or love's labor's lost, or whatnot. Every Thursday with sign-ups starting 7:30 and getting going by 8 o'clock plus, there's an open mic songwriters (and poetry) format warmly hosted by Garrett, who starts by playing guitar and doing a few of his own songs, then turns it over to everyone else -- last night doing everything from hip hop to Leo Kottke-style guitar to an a cappella bluesy love song to poetry-with-words-all-alone. Fine song writing, great coffee, spacious room lit by red-blue-green not too bright overheads, and the walls decked in energized local artwork. Big plate window looking out on Ventura Boulevard, couple of doors down from Moby Disc and Second Spin (two great used CD and video stores) plus my favorite cheap restaurant, Gulan, which has the best homebaked pita bread I've ever tasted in my life.

It's maybe a best-kept secret, this stretch of Sherman Oaks--Ventura Blvd. between Kester and Van Nuys Boulevard. Lots of kids doing out-on-dates; lots of parents with babies in strollers enjoying the summer evening. Cafe Vibe's big plate-glass windows look right out on all the mess and happy congestion of life, making for great poetic energy. I hate the word "eclectic" but I guess it suits -- meaning you don't know what you'll get at Cafe Vibe's open Thursday mic -- but if next week's as warm and friendly, and with such top-rate songs-and-poems, I'm going to make this place a regular. Only problem will be getting in the door once the word gets out.

Cafe Vibe

14568 Ventura Blvd.,

Sherman Oaks (off the 101N exit, Van Nuys Blvd.)

open-mic every Thursday, sign-ups 7:30 p.m.

hosted by Garrett

For info: 818 / 291-1838.

The Exorcist 8.29.01

This is the Exorcist reporting on Tuesday's slam at the Lounge. First I'll speak on the Bachelor and Bachelorettes auction in the first half. Each poet did a piece and then was bid on. Poetri was the auctioneer. Macho started it off and got $20 for Peace Day. Poetri's sister said that the money helped some kids have a fun filled day. I forgot where but radio stations came down to participate and other volunteers. Omari went for $28. The Lounge provided a gift certificate for the dating couple which provided them a meal at a certain restaurant. Omari's throat weas sore so Spiffy did a poem about how much she had the hots for Omari. She ended up getting the highest bid on him at $28. Gimel went for around the same I think. He did a new poem and it was tight. Poetri, who wasn't auctioned off did a poem inserting the song 'just my imagination' and that song was the theme for the poem. Inq brought the house down. When the bidding slowed he did a Jack Palance and did five one armed pressups. That got one girl really worked up and she got to $27. Another outbid her so he did situps and then flipped to his feet from his back so her and her competitor had a bidding war and she finalized it with a $45 bid. That was the highest male bid. Gina had the highest female bid also at $45 until later when one girl whose name I can't remember who was a sacrificial poet got a bid of $60.The highest bid of the night. Thea went for $34. Her poem talked about wanting to need to have to love someone. I forgot to mention 'woowoobaby' teling Inq to exercise some more during his bid. Sekou was scheduled to be a bachelor but he was performing somewhere else. The bidding always started at $5 or as Poetri said five bones. I was in the slam and came second to last out of 8 people with 18.5. Illlogic was wronged by the judges with a 14.5. I guess they didn't get his poetry. Dingo did a poem in which he got everybody chanting 'Rise rise rise' and he got 19.1. One judge that joined in the chant showed him love with a 9.9 I think. Shane joined in the slam. I think he's from the Dallas team. He was announced as the winner of the nationals and he did three five minute pieces all of them entertaining. He described himself as the worlds greatest overweight lover. He asked a girl in the crowd how she made love. He said he was like Hailey's comet. You only experience him once in a lifetime. Twice if you're lucky. He said his lovemaking was like a martial arts video game. Many diferent styles. I liked his reference to being a prisoner inside a woman's rib cage. He got R-A-C laughing so hard she cried and he called her one of God's flowers that he forgot to water. He told her that the perfect haiku is three syllables 'you and me ' or 'R-A-C'. He was smooth. In one of his poems he said a woman was so fine that flowers would turn to smell her. 'you see that sunset. I drew it for you.' Then he said the rain caused the wrinkles. His slam poem referred to his grandmother. She said 'Life is a game. You play, you win. You play you lose, but you play!' So all in all, including the slam I heard 6 of his poems. He threw one of his chapbooks out to the crowd. He asked if people would buy some to help him get back to Canada. He didn't make it to the final two. The final four were him, R-A-C, Nafeesa and a poet I hadn't heard before called Emily. She was tight. She did a poem about a girl describing her bitch of a sister. 'bitches don't drink margaritas, they drink tequila' was the line that drove everybody wild. One calibration poet did a great poem where he talks in a nervous voice relating how he tried to summon up the nerve to talk to a girl in a Starbucks and he walks over to her to chat and at this point he speedtalked imitating her cursing him out and saying he needed to step, he's got some nerve coming over and saying she'd cut his nuts off and give them to her cats to use as marbles and that's the line his poem ended on when he switched back to his nervous voice. R-A-C lost to Emily by a tenth of a point in the second round, Emily scoring 29.3. so it was between Nafeesa and Emily for $75 and the opportunity to go forward to the semifinals on the Hollywood team in April. It was made harder for April. They have to do three completely different pieces. I think Nafeesa ended on 'half devil. Earlier she did 'Supewoman' and 'Fractions' I think. I got to go over them again later at my leisure as she had her chapbook on the refreshment stand for free. Nice of her. I checked out her website that was listed. It's 'nafeesa.8m.com'. She got 4 tens and a 9.6. Emily got 4 tens and a 9.5. Could it get any closer? Shihan asked if they would share the prize money as they tied. For those who don't know the way the points work the bottom score is dropped. Forgot to mention that Macho did his most well known poem 'one-one-one'. This has been a report from the Exorcist.

The Exorcist 8.27.01

This is the Exorcist reporting on Friday night's happening at the Midnight Special. Kurt, a German guy did a really hilarious poem called 'Diarrhoea'. One guy did a great wordplay about his lovelife improved by the love of his life that he hopes to love for life because she made him love life. One kid did a great poem about coughing up bits of his blackened lung and a yellowed fingernail peeling off but then said tongue in cheek 'but it wasn't the cigarettes that killed him'. This has been a message from the Exorcist.

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 8.24.01

I get home around midnight, and before "hitting the hay" e-mail Wayman with some important information about a Saturday venue. And what does he do?!? He wants to know how was Green!!! Well, Wayman, to know how fresh Green is, you've got to see it to believe it.

As it has become customary, Tanner's Coffee House in Culver City was packed for another "edition" of Green, the home away from home of the Los Angeles Slam Team (National Vice-Champions, if you didn't know). Even with most of the "big guns" present, it's safe to say that it was a night of surprises, though. Shihan thought that just showing up (without reading) would have the ladies swooning anyway. Poetri read a nice "imagination" poem, but his singing was far from imaginative, so the audience jumped in to save what can be saved. Gimel poeticized about his impressions from the flight to Seattle, and Sekou prayed to God not to be broke no more. Buddy Wakefield showed us that LA is not the only place with absolutely off-the-hook poets (mad props to Seattle). Macho and Donovan of the Tunnel Rats fame rocked the mic with some spiritual rap and cool singing. DJ Jedi was spinning like all the force was with him. Those who know Green would say this is a normal state of affairs. Still, surprises were what made the night special. How, you might ask... Well, for one, C-Bone read a LOVE poem. Yes, you heard it right: a love poem! So did Jared aka Tone. Can you believe that?!? Jelena (that's me) DIDN'T read a love poem in spite of her reputation. And Thea read a really, really cool and not-bitter-at-all love poem. Other surprises: Claire aka Ms. Andrews showed up after months long disappearance; Amy read a rather cool "haikoem" (poem made up of haikus); new mama, Robin, was there to support; James read at Green for the first time. Other poets were: Kwame, Babu, Raymond, El Rivera, Konception, Alan, D-Lite, Gina and I hope I'm not forgetting anyone.

So, Wayman, here is your answer. Green was cool, and fresh, and GREEN to the bone. Next time, go see it for yourself! I need to go get some sleep now.

Grazing on the Green and Raving for LitRave,
Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon

The Exorcist 8.23.01

This is the Exorcist reporting on Tuesday night's happenings at the Lounge. Mr Young dropped a really tight poem called 'Acapella'. I hadn't heard him flow for a few weeks and he made up for the absence. One kid did a poem on the word 'shit' and its uses and Poetri made that his theme for the night. Poetri did a poem on a woman who grabbed her purse tight to herself when he came on the bus. He said he wanted to grab her purse and put money in it just to confuse her. That was the funniest part of the poem to me. That was his new poem for the week. I make that two as he dropped 'nigger haiku' at Tanners on Thursday previous. Poetri said that Gimel and Shihan had flaked but Gimel came up later and bust his new poem. Something about a painting. Shihan wasn't going to do one but he got writing while Gimel was reciting. It was short but I liked the line about an angel with blood on her wings because she got too near to the truth and how he wiped the blood off the wings. 'Woo woo baby' quoted Martin Luther King. One poet did his poem kneeling and with his back to the audience so his friend who lost a friend to a shooting wouldn't think he was fronting. He talked about religion being a drug for some people who take the Lord's name in 'vein'. C-Bone flowed and Macho and James aka IllLogic did their raps over a beat. IllLogic saw a friend reciting poetry who had actaully given him his rap name. He hadn't seen the guy in three years. They were school buddies. He got him rapping. Small world. I felt good because I'd got him to come to the lounge. Snowplow performed 'Model Minority'. Xtroverse did 5 minutes of beatboxing. Sang while beatboxing! A poet called Buddy Wakefield did an interesting piece. When Sekou did his thing one girl made the sign of the cross with her two fingers. There were a few first timers. Nafeesa did a piece I hadn't heard before. Babu did a poem about old school and new school rap and Damon did "If I were God'. This has been a message fom the Exorcist.

Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon 8.22.01

Nirvana In A Bottle

In these times of instant gratification, some would say three-and-a-half hours of poetry is too much to endure even for getting close to poetic nirvana. Still, a few brave souls discovered last night at Zen Restaurant that no time is too long if poetry is good.

Larry Jaffe took Poetic License again last night (like he does every Tuesday), and put together an evening filled with powerhouse poets from all over the country and beyond. It also seemed to be a night with the sizeable amount of estrogen floating around, from the two features - Salena Saliva and Alyssa Burrows, to the lovely guest from Massachussetts - Nina Katherine Simon, and our local Carmen Vega, Kathy O'Laughlin, Estelle Childers, Debbie Allen, Mary, and LitRave's own Jelena (that's me). Now, don't take me wrong... Men were quite amazing, too. From Buddy Wakefield who came all the way from Seattle, over Jack McCarthy from (where else but) Massachussetts, to our local lads - Jeff Jurgens, Neil Aitken, Russell Salamon, Steve Ramirez, Steve Lakey, Mani Suri, Gary Justice, G. Murray Thomas, Mark Gonzales, amazing Ben Porter-Lewis, Tracy, Enrique, and (of course) the unavoidable Larry Jaffe himself.

It is hard to point out the highlights of the evening, since almost every second was a highlight in itself. It all started by a bluesy guitar solo by My Lemon Pledge aka Jimmy Smith, who got us all in the mood with his, "I miss you, darlin', more than I miss a rainy day." Then, a few poets down the line, Buddy Wakefield positively put a spell on the audience with his poem, his "monkey playing bass and a back-up diva in a slow tornado." Then, Nina Simon gave an amazing rendition of her "Birthright" to Israel, and Jack McCarthy mused about "The End of the Road." Ben Porter-Lewis got us all fired up with his performance of his ever-developing "Saigon Boy" series, and Larry Jaffe made a sleek introduction of the two featured poets by reading his own 4-part poem "Velocity" and comparing velocities of a bullet, a rainbow, a blow job, and friendship.
Then, we got a taste of funny, feminist, funky poetry from the first feature of the night, the redhead 6-foot Amazon from Washington, Alyssa Burrows. Now, just looking at Alyssa, lines from a poem by Bridget Gray somehow come to mind: "I'm half-Amazon, half-amazing." The second feature was Salena Saliva from London, England. Yes, we all loved her British accent, and even more her poems that spanned anything from sex to satire, to dark (typically British, I assume) humor.

By the time Salena finished her feature, most in the audience were dying for a glass of water to help them offset the heat poets raised in that loft above Zen Restaurant. So, we all took a 7.25 minute break (!) and then, a few more amazing performances wrapped the perfect night of Zen: Steve Ramirez brought the house down with his "Ginsberg Section," Mani Suri got everybody thinking about things that "came to pass," and Mark Gonzales powerfully expressed the need for coining a new phrase in the vocabulary of the minorities - instead of "ready, set, go!" Mark proposed "ready, set, know!"

When all was said and done, it was a long and beautiful night at Zen. If anything comes close to nirvana in a bottle, then we had it last night. Thank you again, Larry Jaffe!

Zooming in on Zen and Raving for LitRave,
Jelena aka Helen the Bashful Dragon

Poetic License
Tuesdays at 8pm
The Zen Restaurant
2609 Hyperion Ave.
http://poetix.net/