SpokenWord Paris

Report by Alberto. Pictures by Julie Zazou. Song to listen while reading this report: Je suis amoureux de Paname *

First round or level of addiction:

Yann: “Worms, slimy little buddhists.” David Sirois inspired by Walt Whitman: “I hear the Bank of America singing.” Diane: “So Sweet”. Gabriel: “Can’t see beyond the lenght of an arm”. Magali: “Cette envie de sauter du 7eme etage”. Moe Seager: “These are the best things I wrote in bars, cause that’s where I was living”. Ready for Jane Augustine, our Featured Poet.

Second Round or level of Addiction

Our 2nd featured poet: Michael Heller. And if I write his name in Wikipedia? Victor, amoureux de Paname in the IX episode of his Brief History of the Postwar French Popular Music (full episode click here), Melissa transformed in Anne Sexton. Thomas: Love Poem for Melissa. Alberto and the neverending story of the 120 toilet paper rolls block. (To be continued). Natascha beating the XXXX out of Star Wars. Kelly reminding us why tonight is about addictions.

Third Round or level of addiction

Amel like Tori Amos: Putting the Damage On. Addicted & Beatriced like never, Cameron: “Why I smoke”. Angela: Maw**. Bruce: “Heather, hot and sweet. I just couldn’t stand her ovation.” Diego and Helen closing in overtime! And next Monday one of the most cherished and lively theme for poets, from love to magazine submissions, get ready for:                                                                    Rejection!

* Slang: Paris.

** Jaw of a voracious animal, especially a carnivore.

Courtesy of Victor.

Report by Alberto. Pictures by Hal Bergman (Full Album Here)

Theme: Pirates (har har argh!)

On the first ship: Claire, Pablo, Thomas Spencer, David Barnum, Derek Walcott, Gabriel, Natasha. Clearly explicit lyrics and direct talk as proper pirates would do: “You are not dressed like a pirate, you are dressed like a pirate whore. A l’abordage! (Pablo) Hold to everything and pussy (Gabriel). Can you see him wearing nylon pirate bycicle shorts?

On the second carrack: Amel singing Pirate’s songs, Victor singing Gainsbourg’s songs, David Sirois wrote 10 pages about Satori in Paris,  Adia’s “My happy juice dried up”, Melinda played all the characters in her play, Alberto still stuck under a car between a ball and a muffler, Sam reading  “Naming of parts” by Henry Reed (Full Version here), Jonathan stalking a rose seller all around Paris.

On the third galleon: Diego, Jim Morrison, Bruce, Kelly Joy, Pepper Neff, Helen & David. Alex: “You’re a writer. I’m a student. I’m a poet. I’m a poet. I’m a student. There’s so much left to learn.”

Yes, we’re late. In a few days the next report: Spoken Word’s Addictions!

Can someone turn on the lights?

It was a dark, dark night… downstairs au Chat Noir. My mind was politicking in anticipation of the sudden flashes of inspiration (satori) that this evening in Paris would bring.

Ollie arrived a week late, with Teenage Poetry (last week’s theme). His voice breaking, his soul setting, he brought us his dancing spiders and flat-packed our existence. Premature ejaculation.

Sock puppet poetry from Thomas

Thomas told the tale of Jacques the pastry chef, the Coca-Cola Cassanova, and Edwina the diluted, bristling librarian. In sock puppetry. Edwina unleashed her laugh but avoided the very verve of life. ‘I am an unread book,’ she sighed.

Jane brought the Sleep Runner. Gabriel recalled Canadian cold and misses the white of night in January.

Amel sang a Heartstopper song. Kelly took to the piano. Simon Paul announced ‘Je me reconfort de my lifelong darkness.’ Alex conjugated the verb to hold in a broken circuit of not-us.

Jonathan failed spectacularly. Lizzie read Only snow by Allan Ahlberg. Phineas sang a capella ‘Fly me to the moon.’ Julien changed books. And Alberto described his satori in rue de Sorbier, en route to buy a lamp bulb after a shaving accident brought on by shaving in the dark. ‘I emerged from the dark bathroom my face a mask of blood…’

Kelly on piano

Round 3 grew more chaotic. Nicolette dragged a monkey cage into the forest. Ana sang Tom Waits – I tell you all my secrets but I lie about my past – accompanied by Rafael on piano. HLn improvised a channel charnelle. Bruce brought us back to the days of disco ball babies.

Tomorrow’s theme for SpokenWord 28th Jan is PIRATES. Do with it what you will. Or do what you would have done anyway.

Check out HLn’s amazing site Agglomerat des Reveurs including Georgina’s Dear Paris letters from America and much more. Her slam is every Tuesday Au Clin’s bar see here.

And don’t forget we’re looking for subs from spokenworders to The Bastille in our continuing effort to document what goes on here on a Monday night and what poetics are being concocted in the fair language of English in that heathen city of Paris. Details.

Oh and we’re still looking for a regular photographer to replace the wonderful Stef. Free drinks anyone?

Cheers all,
David

Report by Alberto. Photos by Steph. Full album here. Featured Poet: Alexander Jorgensen.

Alexander Jorgensen has lived and worked in such disparate places as the Czech Republic, the Galapagos Islands, China, and Kazakhstan. He currently resides in South Arabia. His visual poems have been exhibited in such cities as Toronto, Atlanta, Moscow, and Prague. He was nominated for the Pushcart Prize, 2008.

The infamous Bell.

It’s been fun. Everybody smiling, even laughing.

I) Thomas and just another muthafucking babyface gangsta Justin Bieber, Jonathan the former Osbidivist, Kate booing him. Bibì going German, Chelsea technically still a teenager, Gabriel giving up his hyperanalitical morose poems for his sincere teenage poems. Alexander Jorgensen special guest of Spoken Word Paris.

II) Christian Ames wandering the whole world as a bum, finally Paris, Victor & Freddy Mercury: “I’m just a musical prostitute, my dear”. Mags IS a professional teenage poetry reader, Melinda’s make it home, for a full video click here. Kelly’s cultural clash, Cristina and another very controversial story about fake orgasm, Alberto’s farts of wisdom.

III) Isabelle’s teenage poems from Australia, Shayna Klee and the Year of Purple, you have to imaging Yann dress in black reading his angry ado poem, Rufo: dedicated to the king and queen of teenage poetry: Arthur Rimbaud! Tim fell while reaching the stage and everything became difficult for him and for the audience. Somebody cried. David Sirois very edgy from the border, final teenage crescendo: Alex + Cameron + Katie’s sister poems! Now. next monday theme is Satori in Paris. Whadda??? Hold on, read Jack Kerouac’s words:

“Somewhere during my ten days in Paris (and Brittany) I received an illumination of some kind that seems to’ve changed me again, towards what I suppose’ll be my pattern for another seven years or more: in effect, a satori: the Japanese word for ‘sudden illumination,’ ‘sudden awakening’ or simply ‘kick in the eye.”

We are sure you are into this. Bring it on, Monday 21, under the snow, the Chat Noir’s Basement is even warmer.