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STORIES + + VOICES VOICES STORIES ZINE ZINE


STORIES + VOICES ZINE Inscape Chapbook Series No. 4 Summer 2019 Issue This special issue of Inscape was put together by PCC's Poetry Club: Poet Writes Society with Faculty Advisor Brian Adler


ABOUT POET WRITES SOCIETY

The Poet Writes Society is PCC's on-campus Poetry Club. The club was founded by PCC students: Esther Liew & Baylie Raddon. ¶ ¶

The purpose of Poet Writes Society is to build a community at Pasadena City College of self-proclaimed poets, amateurs and seasoned pros alike. ¶ ¶

The intention of the club is to get students comfortable with their own poetry, especially with sharing it. With an emphasis on the art of spoken word, the club hopes to have voices literally heard on the PCC campus. ¶


Stories + Voices Zine Staff Issue Editor ------------------------------------------ Esther Liew Poetry Editor ------------------------------------- Baylie Raddon Assitant Poetry Editor ----------------------------- Aurora Lyons Cover Designer -------------------------------- Michaela Prohov Layout Designer ------------------------------------- Esther Liew Assitant Layout Designer ----------------------- Lenora Owens Managing Editor ------------------------------------ Erik Elizalde Faculty Advisor ------------------------------- Dr. Kirsten Ogden Faculty Advisor --------------------------------- Prof. Brain Adler

INSCAPE, formerly "Pipes of Pan," Vols. 1-30, is published online and in print by the English Department at Pasadena City College. Subcription rates are $15 per year and include a limited edition chapbook. Address subscriptions to PCC Inscape at English Department, C245 Pasadena City College 1570 East Colorado Blvd. Pasadena, CA 91106. This publication is funded in part by the Pasadena City College Student Services Fund and your generous donations. Copyright 2019 Pasadena City College English Department. Please note that the student content reflected here does not reflect the opinions of Pasadena City College or the editors of this zine issue. All rights revert to authors after printing. www.pccinscape.com


STORIES + VOICES ZINE Summer 2019 Issue by the Poet Writes Society


TABLE OF CONTENTS TITLE {r iˈlɛrnɪŋ}

AUTHOR

PAGE #

Esther Liew

9

Ambulance Lights & Candlelight + Candlelight & Arachnophobia

Baylie Raddon

10

I Often Sleep in Noise

Baylie Raddon

11

Remnants

Alexa Nuzzo

12

Untitled

Andrea Perez

14

Andrea Perez + Emily Plath

15

Andreaz Vazquez

16

Sydney

Aurora Lyons

18

Been Here

Erika Nieblas

20

Esther Liew

21

Uncanny

Evan Krikorian

22

Abstract

Andrea Vazquez

24

Home + Out the Window Note to Self

Brand New York


TABLE OF CONTENTS TITLE

AUTHOR

PAGE #

Michelle Morillo

25

Ramonchito Galvez

26

Chris Morales

27

Malibu, CA

Mandie Montes

28

Je te regarde m'oublier-

Mandie Montes

29

Fortune Girl

Andrea Vazquez

30

Brushstrokes

B. K. Rouzaud

31

Frances Guzman

32

Aiden Sanchez

34

Candance Amanda Ahumada

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Cindy Serrano

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Christjian Blackburn

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Esther Liew

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Warrior Innocence, Where Are You? An Elegy for Activism

Spread the Word A Virgo, A Scorpio, A Poem The Tale of Two Loves Bubblegum Thanks Grandma {when the time comes}


{r iˈlɛrnɪŋ}

by Esther Liew

When will I relearn that love sometimes means not having a lesson plan, like a substitute teacher, nervous & messy still; enunciating new names at the tip of my tongue.  Not only will I keep making room for others, I’ll escape my own & meet you at yours.  Do you believe in love through healing? As in to wash and disinfect the wound, get rid of all dirt or debris from your heart. Not replacing, not removing his or hers or theirs; but always accepting what you gave away, then it will forever be yours.  Surely easier to whisper “a merry heart does good like a medicine,” but I won’t let your broken spirit dry my bones. I promise to stay even after all the “leave me alone’s”. I promise to keep reminding you from the first day of sunrise until it decides to commit suicide. 

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Untitled by Andrea Perez

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Home by Andrea Perez

Out the Window by Emily Plath I remember your breath, Saturated with cigarette smoke. I remember your rough hands And probing tongue as it forced its way down my throat. Your calloused hands scraping As you pushed past all my clothes. I remember how you told me, “No one needs to know.” I could feel the pain run through me As you pushed beyond where I wanted to go. The weight of you on top of me, You pushed every breath from my throat. Every fantasy where I’m the hero, Was gone Out The Window.

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: Note to self the ground ou r feet o n y t u p to I need you a hand Do n't take nd And just sta ev olve round you r a s r lo co e as th Do n't freeze chang e And be the is strang e Peo ple th ink

o ne path Both feet o n

present d o ne in the n a st a p e in th And n ot o ne

From, uez Andrea Vazq

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Drawing by Aurora Lyons

Sydney by Aurora Lyons You’re just a baby right now innocent and small. I imagine you in the world; I’d catch you when you fall. I’d be famous then. You’d be a teenager. I imagine that you’re pretty crawling and laughing. I remember when I found out-fainting and gasping. You are the youngest now. I am nothing. An identity was torn away then: it was selfish and proud. But that wasn’t your fault. It’s better you’re around.

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You keep growing now. I don’t know what you look like. I wish I could meet you smiling and laughing. But some dreams don’t come true. I guess I am nothing. Do you care about me? I care about you. My chest grows heavy and my head is light with thoughts of you. I keep scheming and thinking trying to make this dream come true. Do you care? Do you? I was one among one, something special indeed. Now I am one among three, there’s nothing special about me. You don’t know me. I don’t know you either. Your family might crumble as do all. But I bet you don’t worry now because you’re innocent and small. But you’ll grow up. Will I be a stranger then? I fantasize about saving you from our father. But who knows who you’ll be when you’re older. Will you care... ...about me? I care about you.

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Abstract by Andrea Vazquez

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Warrior

by Michelle Mirollo We all have hidden slices of magic hidden away in us, do you feel its’ subtlety? Womxn- I see, a mind of a goddess. Womxn- I see, a body of a temple. Womxn- I feel, a heart as strong as a lion's. She slays the attempts of those who tried to suffocate her. She slays the thoughts, her own mind tries to dart. She survives. She’s compassionate, strong, a warrior of inner beauty. She creates shifts in mental thought patterns melting away anger, irritability, ill will with a daily kind remembrance to be compassionate. She see wounds, and shares space to heal them. She starts everyday again, anew. She is in all of us, inspiring you to keep seeking an inner power so strong it oozes from within. Rising all of us to stand together. Seeing the truth that holding a duality of serenity and pain exists together. Her stories may have been erased, but she could never be.

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Innocence, Where Are You? by Ramonchito Galvez

I have returned. I have shaken all that dust, from all the lands I’ve been. And I am now here, For you... Innocence, where have you gone? I long for you.

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An Elegy for Activism by Chris Morales Los Angeles, California The skyline that never blinks A sunshine glow that illuminates the river flow Built a goody stadium for the poor Home of the Los Angeles homeless Remember when The Early Movimentos had some sentimento? Black Panthers, Brown Berets and Third World Liberation Front A United States fright Bring the human a right Lies of the panoptic eye Uncle Sam the imperial Yellow peril scare clock Equality and talk of diversity A dead quality measured in color quantity The Activists March in the public square For eyes Likes and shares Fashion curses the castle in the sky A digital throne Iconic and ironic Pull that trigger to feel bigger Children will be living like caged birds and mindless herds I ain't mad at cha because it’s not your fault It’s all you know Vato Loco Syndrome Keeping MLK and Pac’s dream alive until the system shuts my eyes Bittersweet never indiscreet A rose that grew from the concrete Social justice discourse Ofcourse, distracted by the white folk I dream blue and annotate this joke

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Je te regarde m’oublierI sometimes wonder if we had met sooner, would things be different? Only in my dreams, are we together, feels like it will be that way forever but I hope for something more with you, more than your fleeting touch. And you will never know just how much you intoxicate me, leaving me aching for more than just physical intimacy. Perhaps, if I miss anything about you it’s your ability to listen to me talk about almost anything and either find a way to relate to me or make me feel heard. It’s an indescribable feeling to have but when I’m around you, I feel lighter and less stressed about life. Still, in the recess of my mind, I remember walking out of your house and getting into my car knowing that this was the rejection you couldn’t say with words.

Mandie Montes

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Brushstrokes I want to paint your life with colors Not just any old colors The colors of my life. The colors that make me who I am. Brights and the darks Reds and blues and yellows All combinations that I’ve discovered. Every shade, every stroke The hardest scrape—the softest poke . I want to color your life with my colors Will you let me? Let me give you brights reds Or dark blues. Maybe vibrant yellows Or even just plain grey. Let me paint your life with colors The colors of my life Love baby, it means love.

B. K. Rouzaud 31


Spread the Word by Frances Guzman

caught with my hands down another girl’s pants told i just needed more counseling and time to worship our lord that it was just a phase i was just “experimenting” because i was bored they didn’t understand they still don’t believe that i can fall in love with someone of the same gender and because of that, they grieve “it’s all your fault” they say “you chose this life” but why would i choose this lifestyle when i know it’s hated and judged? why would i choose to want a wife? but they continuously beat me down saying “you’ll get passed this” they don’t know how i feel when i’m with her when i’m happy and in complete bliss the therapy is haunting electro shock is next my counselor believes that all i need is “normal sex”

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i’m foaming at the mouth i’m dying from therapy sessions i should’ve chosen a different route i can’t take this anymore it’s killing me inside i have no one to turn to and i have nowhere to hide “i’ve seen the errors of my ways” “i’m born again” i say tomorrow holds new opportunities because it is a new day although i won’t be here i want everyone to know it’s okay to be yourself and you don’t have to let go although it has been influenced this is my own choice just because i’ll be gone and silent doesn’t mean i won’t have a voice

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a virgo, a scorpio, a poem by Aiden Sanchez

There’s a special sort of something there When I look at you I see the riot our drag queens began for our love to be seen A genuine passion In the eyes of the public. But I don’t love you just as a means for novelty or to be part of some beautiful minority; I love you because you make me better even when I’m the worst. I don’t love you for your soft skin or your heartthrob appearance but it certainly does help; I love you because you to listen to my meaningless rage and my endless crying when I’ve watched the same movie or I’ve listened to the same song, over a thousand times. There’s a special sort of something there in someone so beautifully simple so elegantly queer and so devilishly handsome. The question is What the hell do you see in me?

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The Tale of Two Loves By Candace-Amanda Ahumada A hopeless romantic Adoring love Saw a mystery one day And was intrigued They say curiosity killed the cat But the hopeless romantic replied That satisfaction brought it back Although the mystery was never solved Because the hopeless romantic did not want to solve it "I love the idea of a mystery, but solving it slowly gives more surprises to love" The mystery, on the other hand, did not see how love works Of course the mystery has been in love But that expired And now the mystery sits, waiting for another to come by The mystery tries to not like For liking will soon become loving But it cannot control what the heart wants And so the heart jumps from person to person While the mystery sits in confusion But the hopeless romantic doesn't mind Because the heart has jumped onto them And it will not let go The mystery does not want this The liking is strong But the hopeless romantic deserves more For it is still a mystery And they are too many dark secrets within it

Artwork by Michaela Prohov

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Bubblegum By Cindy Serrano time moved like molasses the day I thought I had left for good the distance between us like a rubber band stretched past its point of release like the ringing in my ear like gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe but then how to do I unstick you? I feel you as I walk away, calling me back, taking my attention but I go home to empty and silent and it chafes like manacles around my wrist. the quiet becomes a drone and I am not enough to kill the silence. it fills up all the spaces inside me hides me even from myself but I want you to find me to chart the depth of my deep I want you follow when I run away, to chase me, to not let me slip through your fingers. there are pieces of you everywhere I go and with everyone who I talk to about you fragments of memories that are rose-colored and hazy fragments of moments tainted by my fairy-tale heart leaving was the sane thing to do, I tell myself I doubt you noticed there are traces of you in all my thoughts impossible to disconnect and, yet, I don’t wanna unstick you. I wanna put you in my mouth and chew all the flavor out of you ...lovingly.

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Thanks Grandma

By Christjian Blackburn I've got a high pain tolerance But that doesn't mean, I'm tolerant of sobriety. I've got addicts blood inside of me That rouses anger when it's cornered Who has learned that pretty words could shield his body and his income, but not his soul and though he talks a lot the shit he says means nothing saying over n over again in different ways please love me but not loving myself enough to peak what’s truly on my mind Since I learned, when I was real young That standing up for myself means trouble That no one cares about what's right, just who's wrong I know my needs, have never been, as important as yours. That's why you drink That's why I smoke While we pretend that we love each other. We love ourselves, we’re only human and we've got addicts blood

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{when the time comes} I apologize for almost touching almost                     loving almost                    knowing.  You and I are  opposite                                                                                                                         ends  of the Newton’s cradle. Separated by the motionless. Bro-ken-down by the fundamental  principles of physics in this brief exchange of atoms. I’m reminded of the  resonance  between  two hands holding, not creating or destroying. We’re starting to lose momentum;   slow   it   down no more oscillations let your body  remember  how to be a body.

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while I practice the steps to still the anxiety engrained in your chest, but still, some bones I don’t get to ignite. As long as you promise to keep me at the back of  your teeth.  I’ll turn you into the thing I name beautiful  between foreign bodies and foreign currencies, I can’t distinguish the two. & worry not, for one second  of holding  equates to  a longer time elsewhere. 

A poem & sketches by Esther Liew

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Profile for Poet Writes Society

STORIES + VOICES ZINE  

Issue Editor: Kah Kei Liew, Esther

STORIES + VOICES ZINE  

Issue Editor: Kah Kei Liew, Esther

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