July 10, 2008 - Jibber Jabber Open Mic!

The Java Coffee house was pleasantly packed tonight. It was exciting walking up to the doorway and seeing the crowd gathered outside and so many of the tables full inside. I was especially glad to see a number of the members Baltimore Slam team there.

My friends, Agata and Sabina, had come with me, and Agata and I had both prepared pieces. I was excited; this was my first time that I’d be reading at an Open Mic. We were the first to sign up, and, following Ryan Mergen’s introduction, Agata would open the evening. Ryan performed from memory a piece about a romantic relationship gone sour that brilliantly punned off of the names of dozens of car makes and dozens more car terms.

Agata recited Jeff Moss’ poem “How Are You?” from The Butterfly Jar. She'd been practicing he whole car ride over, and, though she stumbled a little, she carried herself very well. Next, she read a poem in polish about the rain. She’d selected this piece because of it’s rhythmic qualities, as well as the fact that the Polish word for rain (something that sounds like – “jim-jaf-ka”) and the poem itself were highly reminiscent of jibber jabber.

Twain Dooley, one of the qualifying members of the Baltimore Slam Team, performed next. He recited the first poem from memory. In this piece, he played off of the idea of safe sex to ultimately conclude with a message of lasting love, asking the audience to “remember when safe sex meant a padded headboard” at the beginning, and then asking them to consider safe sex as meaning taking your heart medicine at the end. His next piece described a man who was conscripted and then called into service. This dramatic monologue was highly narrative and drawn from “Revenge of a Cat Headed Baby,” a play in which Twain will be featuring at D.C’s fringe festival.

I was the next performer. The first poem I recited from memory. It was a piece written by my great-grandfather and passed to me through my mother by word of mouth. The next was a poem I’d written, inspired by the great social equalizer in Lexington - the fact that everyone shops at Wal-Mart because there are no other options.

Kyle Eichmann, the newest member of the Baltimore Slam Team, performed next. His first poem was a very powerful piece about his mother. He opened with a line of jibberish that he repeated three times, breaking it into its components the third time. He continued that to express how his mother taught him a great deal of the best kinds of parental, loving nonsense, such as the fact that “the monsters under my bed are only there to scare away bad dreams”.

I had heard Kyle’s next piece, “Tatoo”, at the Slam on Sunday. Part of the nature of performance poetry is that it is so transient, and I loved this rare opportunity to hear this piece a second time. As I’d found with 2 Deep’s “Two Hit Rule” poem, I was able to bring a great deal more out of it the second time. This poem went through a young man’s description of the pain behind each of his tattoos, the powerful emotions that caused him to permanently mark them on his body. He tattoos in memory of his mother, friends, and his daughter and her mother. He had wings on his shoulders, because “even concrete angles need to be reminded they can fly”, and musicians on his chest to drown out the sounds of an abusive father. He had hate and love on either breast, and, finally, he had a tear by the corner of his eye. This was not a gang symbol, but a mark of the pain. “If it were acceptable for young men to cry,” he would not have to hurt himself so to express his pain. I especially enjoyed this poem in context of the Bruce article on using poetry in order to help young people, especially men, express themselves verbally so that they can deal with their emotional difficulties constructively rather than violently.

Matt, a hated, side-burned, beatnik, and open-mic virgin read next. A first time reader, he was shaking as he read the first piece from his notebook. The second, he’d memorized. I suspect that he’ll be reading again.

Ryan Mergen then introduced Chris Wilson, the featured poet and another member of the Baltimore Slam Team. The “Johnny Appleseed of Hartford County”, Chris is an English teacher as well as a stellar performer. After opening with a joke, he started with a poem directed to his students. Chris roved the room, winding in-between tables as he made the audience a part of this piece. In it, he cautioned his students that he would be ruining their lives because, by the time he was finished with them, they would be passionate about writing. However, “writers are poor”. He assured the students that he wouldn’t let them be loners like Emily Dickenson or “cop-outs” like Sylvia Plath, even as he warned tham that “Anything you write here can be read out loud, even notes to your boyfriend or girlfriend…especially notes to your boyfriend or girlfriend.” Finally, he left them with the idea that “I am your words Big Brother,” and he told them that he’d always stand up for them.

A number of the Baltimore Slammers are teachers, and I enjoyed considering their work in the context of teaching, especially in light of the Kammer essay on teaching poetry.

Chris next read the first in a series of haikus on why he hate’s Justin Timberlake (and Macey’s #6). I personally loved these!

“I bring sexy back

Without the receipt return

Home still with sexy”

Chris’ next piece was a poem about his own mother. He referred to Kyle’s piece before beginning. In this poem, he addressed the mother’s paranoia regarding the possible death of her son, who was born a 2lb preemie. Chris even teared up a little during the presentation. He read this poem from the pages, but was clearly very familiar with it and maintained good eye contact with the audience and gestured actively. He ended by stating that he’s already made sure that, when he dies, his dear mother will be the last to know.

Chris' next haiku was better than the first!

“I bring sexy back
With a gift slip. Now someone
Wears my used sexy”

Chris’ next piece was an entirely new poem (and he cautioned the audience about introducing a new poem, saying that he advises putting it in the middle, so that it can be sandwiched by stronger works). Chris had just written this piece this afternoon, and it explored how a friend had applied for a government job. The government screens based on moral caliber, alcohol use, and drug use. However, it claims to be looking for innovative, creative individuals. Chris noted that the irony of this was that the government was excluding a whole realm of potential; he’s never seen such a work ethic that can turn a “chandelier into a smoking apparatus”. He joked about the presence of Clinton and Bush in politics, given the government’s standards, and pointed out that the government would either be excluding or making liars of those who’ve ever smoked pot. “But maybe that’s what it takes to get a government job”. I enjoyed this piece for it’s humor.

The next two poems dealt with love, the first about a rough break-up and the second a call for tolerance and acceptance towards homosexual couples that was inspired (and prefaced with) the story of Roy and Silo, a pair of male penguins at the NYC Zoo who had fallen in love. The background story was based on And Tango Makes Three, the number one banned book in America in 2006 and 2007.

Chris’s final Haiku:

“I bring sexy back

To the owner on collar

His name is not mine”

The last piece was another I’d heard performed in the Slam, a piece about a man who loves pregnant women and a call for acceptance of all harmless fetishes/romantic habits.

A few points to note about this performance in particular include the following:

- Most of the poets gave a preface, except for the slam team members, who were introduced by Ryan.

- It was also interesting to note how familiar the slam team was with each other’s repertoire. For instance, Kyle went to sit down after his first piece, but the others made him go up, and he had them tell him which to perform. He didn’t even have to consider, he just went.

- Finally, it’s interesting to consider Slam poems when taken out of context. These poems tend to be much more engaging than traditionally presented poems, but that may also be in part due to the fact that they are performed. They also tended to be more emotionally powerful, either funnier or very serious about a given issue.

I really hope Jibber Jabber thrives! It is amazing to have a literary venue right here in Howard County, especially one so lively! I can’t wait to come back and see Liz Bowen perform! She’s an 18-year old, two-time qualifier for Nationals!

July 6, 2008 - SLAMicide at the Den Lounge

Baltimore’s SLAMicide hosted their first slam at their new venue, the Den Lounge. Located on St. Paul Street in Baltimore, right next door to Hopkin’s Bradford apartments and across the street from a Barnes and Noble, the Den is a rather trendy lounge with sheik furniture, enormous windows, and a great atmosphere. The room itself is dark, and I love the large open space.

The evening was divided into three portions: the open mic, the featured artist, and the slam. The open mic started at 7:30. I arrived a little late, but the artist that I heard were enjoyable and interesting. Megan followed the academic style of reading, standing very still yet making good eye contact with the audience as she read. Brian performed two keyboard pieces. Purely acoustic, they had a wonderful, jazzy feel. Finally, Callie Grove recited a stimulating piece that discussed economics and contemporary politics, for instance, she considered the wealth and power of Donald Trump in opposition to the patrons of soup kitchens. Her piece seemed a little hyperbolic, but it was interesting. She accompanied her work with vigorous hand gestures, and she made good eye contact with the audience.

The featured poet was Baltimore’s own Black Root. A man of many arts, not only writes poetry but also acts and writes music. Having studied Hip-hop culture, he is a fairly well known emcee and spoken word artist in the mid-Atlantic region, and he has competed in many Slam events, even winning a number. According to the write-up, “Black Root’s focus is to provide balance in the world of Hip Hop which has become highly commercialized, and as a result has seemingly lost sight of some of the important aspects such as quality of content and skill.”

Black Root had a great, casual and comfortable stage manner. He bantered and played with the audience as he presented his pieces. Most especially notable about his performances were his frequent calls for audience participation, having the crowd join him in chants and give responses when cued.

After the featured performer, there was a brief break before the slam itself started. During the break, judges were selected. I volunteered Mom. Once the crowd was reconvened, the host defined slam and gave the rules, speaking quickly to an audience that already seemed very familiar with the rules. The host said that “slam is competitive poetry”, and that the five judges were to evaluate the poems based on “the merit of the poem itself and the performance…and, you, the judges are the only once who get to decide.” He then followed this with an exhortation to the audience to get them to try to sway the judges. As per usual, the highest and the lowest score would be dropped, and the three middle scores would be used to rank the poets.

Black Root was offered as the “sacrificial goat,” or calibration poet. He was used to get a baseline score so that mechanical difficulties and scoring technique could be practiced by the judges. He received a 22.5 for a rapid piece about writing. He relied upon repetition and he had a refrain. However, he also had very minimal performance.

The ensuing competition consisted of two rounds. Each of the seven competitors performed twice, and the order of performances was reversed between the two rounds. In order, the competitors were Roscoe, Ryan Mergen, Chris W, Maria, Chris A., Innocence, and Kyle. The poems themselves were amazing. Performance styles ranged from standing and speaking to jumping around and fully mimicking spinning a playground carousel. Topics ranged from suicide and homophobia to the joy of childhood and the superhero “Virgin Man”. I’m only touching briefly on the works and performances here because I’m going to dedicate the entirety of a subsequent post to this topic.

Ultimately, Chris A. came in first with a score of 53.0, winning him three qualifying points for Nationals next year. Kyle came in second with a score of 52.1, and Chris W. came in third with the same score. Kyle’s higher first round score was used to break the tie.

Slam was named for the baseball notion of a grand slam, so, in honor of this heritage, I thought it’d be appropriate to do a little numerical evaluation. Curious about the phenomena of score creep, I’ve below listed the cumulative scores from the calibration poet and from each of the two rounds. I’ve also listed the individual scores given by my mother.

22.5 // 24, 24.2, 23.5, 25.3, 26.8, 25.4, 25.8 // 26.3, 25.4, 27.2, 25.0, 28.6, 26.5, 26.3

6.5 // 7.5, 8.5, 7.2, 8.5, 9.5, 8.2, 9.0 // 8.2, 8.7, 9.3, 8.5, 9.6, 8.9, 9.2

The calibration poet was, by far, the lowest of them all. In the first round, only four of the cumulative scores went above 25, and only five of the scores given by my mother was above an 8. The highest scores were 26.8 and 9.5 while the lowest were 23.5 and 7.2. In the second round, every score was a 25, or above and each of the scores given by my mother was above an 8. The highest scores were 28.6 and 9.6 while the lowest were 25.0 and 8.2. Though a small sampling, score creep was evident.

Nationals!!!

I just wanted to announce that I have booked my airplane tickets and I've got the all-events pass for the National Poetry Slam in August. I'm incredibly excited for this event!!!

Check out this YouTube video about the NPS!

July 5, 2008 - The Art of Conversation Open Mic at the Yabba Pot

The Yabba Pot is a small, vegan restaurant located on St. Paul Street in Baltimore, Maryland, just a few blocks north of North Street and a few blocks south of John’s Hopkins’ Bradford apartments. A small, weather worn sigh and a swinging bench mark the entrance. The first thing to strike you about the Yabba Pot are the vibrant, lime-trimmed, salmon-colored walls. At the front of the restaurant, there’s the cashier and a counter behind which the food is displayed, cafeteria-style. On the wall behind this, there’s a menu listing the various smoothies and juices offered. The room was long and narrow, and the back end was set-up for the poetry reading. Two rows of chairs faced an area of open floor space. Behind these, there were a number of small tables with bright, decorative tops and two-to three chairs each.

Just prior to the event, I started talking with an elderly man who identified himself as Bahire Shabaz. He described himself as Bahire Shabaz, a self described “Old School” poet. He said that he’d begun writing in a correctional institute, and he defined the “Old School” style as an emphasis on values and traditions, particularly African traditions, that needed to be handed down. He identified himself strongly with the struggles and revolutionary spirit of the Civil Rights movement.

The Art of Conversation was hosted by E, the Poet-Emcee, who had been the featured performer at Jibber Jabber just last week. Energetic and lively, he encouraged the audience to participate, and he warmed up the crowd by having us practice cheering before bringing any of the poets to the stage. This reminded me of the 11^th Hour Slam, and stood in sharp contrast to more academic style readings (a fact that was in the forefront of my brain since I’ve just finished Professor Wheeler’s Voicing American Poetry). One of the most distinctive features of The Art of Conversation was that, after every piece, the audience was invited to ask questions and give comments on the works. In some cases, this led to rather heated discussions. The audience was full of regulars, and E knew many of them by name.

The first poet to perform was Courtney, from Columbia, Maryland. She first sang a piece called “Images”. Her eyes were closed and she swayed gently as she sang the piece slowly. The rhythm reminded me more of the middle-eastern call to prayer than anything else. Courtney described the importance of the piece to her as taking “me back to being a child and crying in front of the mirror” because she didn’t fit the stereotypical, Barbie-doll images of beauty. She talked about how you need to feel beautiful in order to feel self-confident enough to fully find your place within nature and the workings of the world. I thought this was a powerful, beautiful piece with broad application that was a little cheapened by some of the commentators’ insistence that this dilemma only applies to African Americans because “the images of beauty are imposed by the conquerors”. Self-consciousness and fear of not fitting into standards of beauty affects people of all ages, races, and classes. The commentary also rang false given that many of the women considered most beautiful in modern society are not white. Her second piece, the “Cosmos Is My Boyfriend” was a playful piece that described the romantic overtures of the Universe, such as how he “texts me with raindrops” and “cuddles me with consciousness”. Courtney gesticulated and made eye-contact with the audience as she recited this original piece from memory. She said that she feels much of the power of the piece comes from the recognition that, while she is seeking small commitments, she’s fleeing the major commitment – the ring stolen from Saturn and offered by the universe.

Each poet to present read two pieces. Throughout the pieces presented, the major themes were aesthetics and the nature of beauty, as well as that of African American identity. It was interesting to note the divide between the older and younger generations, with the former being militant and somewhat paranoid and the later being more interested in issues as they affected humanity rather than in isolating African American from the rest of Americans. I was a little saddened by the emphasis of the “blackness of the art” to the exclusion of all other perspectives during much of the commentary because this limited several of the pieces, especially those of the younger poets. While, yes, the majority of these pieces were very clearly from the African American perspective and described the African American experience, they were also far more universal with themes and ideas that reach people of many ages, eras, and ethnicities.

One of my favorite performers was a graceful young woman in a vibrant, yellow dress who went by the name Tangent. She first had the audience put their hands side by side, palms upwards and thumbs facing out. She was sharing a lesson developed by Hannah Lynn that the fallopian tubes can be seen in the lines of the hands, and that, by touching others, you are giving life. Her first piece, a beautiful song called “Hands” addressed this piece. Her second poem, “I am not your rock (anymore)” was powerful and wonderful. She spoke rapidly with little rhyme and heavily syncopated lines. She talked about how important it is to give in relationships, but how, after a point, you need to draw the line if you are not getting anything back. The discussion of this piece was lively and interesting, focusing on the nature of relationships. It was interesting how there was yet another generational divide here, with the older individuals being more jaded and the younger ones being more hopeful. Ultimately, though, there emerged from the men in the room a theme of relationships as a more economic endeavor with the need for clear expectations to be established early in the relationship.

There was a notable mixture of music and poetry, and many of the performers sang as well as recited and performed. We even had a communal birthday celebration for Carolyn, who had performed a Billie Holiday Song and later an a capella version of a poem mixing music with emcee-style verse with Courtney. The refrain was

“I could love ya / I could cradle you / Back to Africa / to the Palm of the Creator / By way of Jamaica”.

Next, the featured performer, 2 Deep the Poetess, took the floor. She was as amazing and powerful a performer as I’d recalled from her hosting of the DC 11^th Hour Slam. The first poem, “I’m Going to See My Mother” had me teary-eyed. She started it as a gospel-style song sung with eyes open. It transformed into spoken words as she described her struggle to create her own identity as opposed to living under the identity of her deceased mother. It was beautiful. Her next piece, “Blackness 101” was a fun and playful piece that looked at the lack of education about African American history in schools. My favorite line was:

“I want to know why you’re sitting here listening to a poem that won’t do nothing but put an idea in your mind”.

It seemed to capture the whole ethos of the spoken word movement, as Ryan Mergen discussed with me, the idea that you can use your words to make a powerful impact in the world. This poem also made me wonder, once again, about the difference between recognizing one’s heritage as opposed to creating a whole new subculture.

The next piece, “Hungry” was based on one of 2 Deep’s actual experiences with Racism in the PG county mall. While in line at the Taco Bell, she starting talking with one of the white patrons, a woman who was very hostile to the influx of Latin Americans into the country. Little did she realize that 2 Deep was half Latina. The piece was powerful, especially when 2 Deep gave the context, and I loved the line “please order yourself a taste of humble pie.” However, as she was finishing her explanation, I couldn’t help but wonder how many of the people in the room would ever guess that Kevin – the fairest completed in our group – was half Ecuadorian.

Her next poem, “Ameritruth Airlines” was inspired by an airline commercial with the tagline “you are now free to move about the country”. This poem explored the state of politics in the contemporary US, and it expressed great frustration with the inability of the populace to actualize itself in a complex legal system. 2 Deep made extensive use of her physical presence in this piece, gesturing like a stewardess and adding a whole new layer of meaning to the words with her hands.

Her final piece, “DOC” for “Dead on Contact” was the delightful poem she’d presented at the 11^th hour slam describing how she would not take abuse from anyone. I loved it even more the second time around, and I realized how much I’d like to hear many of these poems again.