Poetry

First drafts of poetry, as well as commentary on poems, poets and poetry-related randomonia.

Read more about the article For the last time…?

For the last time…?

Truth or hyperbole? I've learned to never say never but in all likelihood, Wednesday, August 4th will be the last time I appear on stage as a featured poet. I fell into the slam scene on a lark back in the summer of 1997, competing in my first Friday night slam at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe on August 8, 1997. In the years since, I've attended four National Poetry Slams, written a lot, met a lot of people, visited places I wouldn't have otherwise, got married, had two kids, returned to the Bronx [twice!], and tapped into a side of…

Continue ReadingFor the last time…?
Read more about the article

louder than words: reloaded differed from the Matrix sequel I jokingly subtitled it after in two significant ways: 1) It didn't completely and unnecessarily alter its tone from its original incarnation; 2) The turnout was much lower. In fact, the paid turnout was exactly the same as the last show back in May: 21. One difference was that it didn't adversely affect my mood as I wasn't adding up how much money was coming out of my pocket this time, thanks to a renegotiated deal for the door to something more appropriate for a Tuesday night slot. Another was that…

Continue Reading
Read more about the article Making Connections

Making Connections

You’re not a poet,
you just slam a lot.

I should note that I tend to define slam poets in a very general sense, beyond the specifics of the actual competition. IMO, non-competing poets that read frequently at slam-affiliated open mics are also slam poets, looking for and benefitting from the audience the competition attracts and the energy it generates. To pretend otherwise is hypocritical. Or self-delusional.

While the question of the level of importance of the competition in the early days of slam is the subject of some debate, few will argue that Marc Smith’s original intent was to reach a wider audience. The competition was simply a gimmick to draw that wider audience in.

As such, I’ve always valued, and found much more intertesting, the non-poets’ opinions on poetry, especially in regards to slam and its periphery. In theory, they are the audience most slam poets are trying to reach, and yet, I’ve found that the more accepted a poet is into the scene, the more dismissive they tend to become of the non-poets’ opinions.

NEWS FLASH: Other poets are not the audience one should be primarily interested in reaching. Or impressing.

(more…)

Continue ReadingMaking Connections
Read more about the article The New Stuff

The New Stuff

For Rich Villar I remember the new stuff. When it hit the mic raw and risky like homemade sushi      more interested in the flavor      than the presentation. We were too hungry for pretense. I remember the new stuff. When it burst from the heart like a ball of fire through an origami parade on a mission from god –      prophecy overflowing      from the mouths of babes. We were going to change the world but were tempted by it instead. I remember the new stuff. When writing was like breathing and everything was new and new was…

Continue ReadingThe New Stuff
Read more about the article

Cause the whole, world, loves it when you don't get down (bah da, bah bah bah-da da) And the whole, world, loves it when you make that sound (bah da, bah bah bah-da da) And the whole, world, loves it when you're in the news (bah da, bah bah bah-da da) And the whole, world, loves it when you sing the blues (bah da, bah bah bah-da da) --Whole World, OutkastAn interesting talk with Omar last night left me with mixed emotions, like an addict who no longer really craves the high but still can't quite break the habit. Having…

Continue Reading
Read more about the article

On Saturday, I lost my glasses on Nitro (the roller coaster at Great Adventure), a fitting epilogue to the tough lesson that was Friday's watershed louder than words show. I had low expectations for the Friday slot to begin with, but twenty-one paid in the audience - the majority of whom were supportive friends/co-workers from outside of the poetry scene and much of the extended Acentos family - was even worse than I'd expected. Glaringly absent were many of the usual suspects from the scene, or as one person put it, those most likely to be on the receiving end…

Continue Reading
Read more about the article louder than words: tweaked

louder than words: tweaked

New York City at night is a beautiful thing. I love walking the streets, breathing in cool, crisp air and not having to deal with the obstacle course of confused and starry-eyed tourists that clog the sidewalks during the day.

As dive bars go, few can match Rudy’s on Ninth Avenue up in Hell’s Kitchen. (I refuse to call it by its gentrified name, Clinton.) $8 pitchers, free hot dogs and one of the coolest jukeboxes in the city. Back-to-back Hall & Oates songs made my night! The Boomtown Rats’ I Don’t Like Mondays was a pleasant discovery, too.

Once inside, you can forget that the Disneyfied, tourist-ridden streets of Times Square and the Theater District are only a couple of blocks away. The clientele has changed a bit over the years, getting younger and pseudo-hip, and I don’t remember the backyard being open – but with the Mets game on the TV over the bar, it’s still a perfect spot for drinking and jawboning with a best friend about to hit the road. (Yeah, I said “jawboning.”)

In between random talk of everything from life in the military to the beauty of Colorado to the awkwardness of dealing with “divorced” friends, we decided to scrap much of the formality for tomorrow night’s show and send him west with a healthy dose of irrereverance and a nod of recognition lacking from other quarters.

(more…)

Continue Readinglouder than words: tweaked

No more posts to load

Newer Posts
Older Posts