Hello everyone everywhere,
As a point of information I'd like to relate an experience. Yesterday a pal
and I attended one of the West Coast (US) Poetry Slam events at the Henry
Miller Library in Big Sur, CA. I believe this event was the third of a
circuit of four Slams touring California that will ultimately send a
'champion' to the Nationals in Seattle, Washington next year.
This was the first Slam my buddy and I have ever attended. Our experiences
on the poetry scene have covered just about all other aspects over 40 years
but this phenomena was new to us. The setting among the Coastal Redwoods was
open, sunny and pleasant enough. An outdoor stage at the edge of a spreading
lawn was complete with an awesome sound system and a three piece combo
(stand up bass, sax and drums) that opened the event and played fill music
during judging. And, man, these folks have rules! No poet is to read over
three minutes with a ten second grace period otherwise points are deducted,
each team (there were eleven teams with at least six members each) could
field only one poet per round, judges (chosen from the audience, 6) rate
each poet on a scale of 1-10 and more rules I can't recall because it became
too tedious to listen.
My friend remarked that he thought he'd see and hear some really down
inner-city cats but instead what we saw were mainly under 30 people dressed
by the GAP. Deadheads with dough? Stoned beatniks out to make it rich? What
we gathered is that we were at a pretty middle class event.
Of the poets we heard most went for the easy pop culture hit lines about the
evils of corporate America, the police, racial injustice and the lack of
some guys getting laid because of feminism (his poem, "feminists are sexy").
Enthusiasm over content, performance over substance. I'm not saying they
weren't sincere, we just didn't hear much 'poetry'.
The one poem we did hear was from a large African-American fellow who
harkened back to the field hollers of his ancestors and brought the message
forward with perfect rhythms and well chosen language. I went up to him
later and shook his hand.
Still, we were glad to witness that language, verse, whatever is alive and
vibrant. I'm very interested to see who is still writing in ten years and
where their writing has gone.
I found the whole judging and point accumulation thing to be a drag but then
I'm happy with just digging the poetry, ya know? That's me.
over & out
-fp
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Frank Parker
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http://now.at/frankshome
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