Blue Bubblegum: Sticky Literature

By Evelia Enriquez and William Gonzalez

Blue Bubblegum is the second book in a series of sticky literature written for the struggles connected to working-class poor people. William A. Gonzalez eliminates all 3rd party perspectives by wrapping authentic direct truth into the context he scribes for his people.

Scribed into this piece of tree are stories, poetry, prose, quotes, and haikus pasted together through art. Whether you are a Blue-collar worker, a son or daughter of a modern-day slave, or considered invisible within Americathese scribes are dedicated to you.




It is very simple to keep stepping over a voice stuck inside cold Bubblegum that sleeps on top of concrete asphalt; to scrape this Bubblegum off the ground you must first melt itonly then can you sing for that voice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503532281

Evelia Enriquez

William A. Gonzalez was born in the ‘other’ Los Angeles, California. His passion for writing did not begin inside of a public school system classroom, it started by painting words onto naked landscapes throughout the inner-city gutter that wrapped around him on a daily basis. Gonzalez is proud to be a tiny seed of the working class poor. However, he has made a decision to ‘put down the shovel, and pick up a pen’—by doing so, he plans on slowly breaking a family cycle of providing modern-day slave labor to service sectors controlled by the privileged and paint pictures for the invisible people who cannot write for themselves. W.A.G penned the award winning unedited book entitled “Black Bubblegum” 1st place winner of the 2013 New England Book Festival ‘Wild Card’ category. “There is too much beauty inside working- class poor sweat; not to dip your pen into it for colors.”

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by William A. Gonzalez.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015900161

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5035-3229-8

                eBook           978-1-5035-3228-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/13/2015

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Contents

The Sun Doesn’t Shine On Skid Row

In The Valley

Blind Brown Birds

I Am That Chango

A Poet’s Trail

Ramp With Art

No Excuses

Privilage Locks Up Poverty

Poor Westlake

Cycles Of Labor

Healing Cajon

In The Bus

A Swap Meet’s Connection

Generation to Generation

From Cotton Fields in El Salvador—to Inner-City

Los Angeles, California, U.S.A

Lottery

Gen.tri.tsu.na.mi.ca.tion

Haikus

W.A.G Quotes

This book is dedicated to all the working class poor people who once lived, and or still reside on Union Avenue in between 3rd and 6th street to be exact—with emphasis on that 5th—the ‘other’ Los Angeles, California.

None of the public school systems within this sector could have ever taught me what our pueblo engraved into my corazon.

Don’t feel sorry for me, for it is these tiny passages in my life that have made me rich. For this, humility will shadow me all the way to the top—wherever that may be…. W.A.G

The Sun Doesn’t Shine

On Skid Row

Mental illness screams for help

Crack residue stuffs concrete potholes

Hardened souls quietly yearn for healing

Hunger begs for a listening ear

A 3rd-1st world country circulates

Forgotten humanity in our presence

On a daily basis

The Sun doesn’t shine on Skid Row

In the corner of

6th and Wall Street

Red blood stains sleep

Over Black Bubble Gum

Stuck inside ¾" dirt thick asphalt layer

Fresh steamy urine melts feces

Into cold sidewalk crevices

Filled with teary rivers of pain

High-end surveillance systems

Glued to cheap motels

Are silent witnesses

To earthquake waves

Of suffering

That should not exist

A soup of Ex- Military personnel,

Parolees, gang members,

Working class poor,

Young and old inhabitants,

Marinate in frustration

For the paste of poverty

Burns human skin underneath

A bowl of emptiness

The Sun doesn’t shine on Skid Row

Tired pupils blaze tiny holes

Through oily leafs

Daily miseries

Don’t have the ability to sing

Bad dreams turn into

Real-time nightmares

A cardboard box for a roof

Provides a temporary escape

The Sun doesn’t shine on Skid Row

Decay is turning into ‘pus’

Right in the new heart of

Downtown, Los Angeles

Instead of drilling

Into this human cavity

For a pocket of fresh breath

Temporary penny-paid

Modern day slaves

Core for privilege ghosts

Just a few blocks away

Dogs are starting to live better lives—than our fellow human beings.

Dogs are starting to live better lives—than our fellow human beings.

Invisible graves wrap around walking dead humanity.

The Sun doesn’t shine on Skid Row

The Sun doesn’t shine on Skid Row

I wrote this piece after going down to Skid Row with a few fellow artists. We brought the Arts to people in desperate need of healing. This is an experience that I will treasure for the rest of my life.

In The Valley

In the valley

There is an umbrella

Where art dances

To unheard songs

Music instruments

Unify fingerprints

Filled with worldwide

Passion

In the valley

There is an umbrella

Where sincerity humbles

You at the front door

Books written

By many unknown writers

Stand straight up

Their words ready

To plunge through

Your pupils

Briefly scale down

Your spinal cord

Circulate lungs

Just