SpokenWord Paris

Next Other Writers’ Group
~ Saturday 7th January 5pm Shakespeare & Co.
Next SpokenWord
~ Monday 9th January Au Chat Noir

By Alberto
Mandoline Song Of Victory, Marie Song of Draw, Anthony: “I want to leave the City”, Jason reading for his personal pleasure leftovers from his old website something about bleeding tomatoes (as an Italian I’m moved). Kate reads four short poems, James told the tragic Story of a Butcher called Jean Marie “qui avait the best meat of Paris”, Eva singing a sad song called “Too much talking is good for a blind.” Alberto dedicated this monologue to last saturday night fighters. Griffin, for Griffin I mean this guy

performed a poem called “the third box” referring to Plato’s (Aristophane’s) sex myth.
In Round II the first is Claire. That’s how I found out another fellow spokenworder won the Troubadour’s third prize even in 2010, her name is Claire Gheerardyn with her poem “Nest”. Troy Yorke, our Personal Jesus: “My hoven was hot and I was a witch”. Matt: you wake up in the morning and your head is on fire.
Amelia Parenteau:

Drift back to the beach,
Me, pot bellied and princessing,
You taught me to float,
And I haven’t sunk since.

Pablo singing: Les Anges de Paris. Patrick gurgling waves like a saxophone altissimo.
and Lucy from:

Full Body Blush
(or)
Warning, Lucy Gellman is Supernovaing in the Grad Study Center

I leave black holes where I walk. The hallways of Paris IV breathe
with them, and the dixièmes cobblestone streets, and this bright bright city,
the only thing we share in the night.

What galaxies you hold in your hands, I told him once.
How much light you have trapped inside of me.

Chantal: “On dit que cette musique c’est votre nome, Sokol asking Proust for a sip of strenght.

And finally Kelly: “My apologies”. Please forgive her, folks. Last Spoken Word b4 Xmas holidays will be Monday, December 19 Au Chat Noir. See you there.

Monday 19th December, Au Chat Noir
76 rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud
Metro Parmentier/Couronnes
Sign up in the bar from 8pm
Underground poetry from 9pm

Just read that George Whitman of Shakespeare & Co has died.

Without George, alternately infuriating and a sheer delight, and his crazy-wonderful bookshop, there would be no SpokenWord Paris, no Other Writers’ Group, no issue.ZERO and no Strangers in Paris. And so much else. How many of us would even have stayed in Paris? Not me.

David

by David
This was the launch of issue.ZERO’s Winter 2011-2012 number and it was packed. The photo is actually before it got really packed! Sold a lot of issue.ZEROs and we’re now well on the way towards making back the printing costs. Click on the link above for details of how to get hold of a copy for 10 euros. Or come to the last SpokenWords of 2011 – Monday Dec 12th & 19th – and get one from us – Au Chat Noir, 76 rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, 75011 Metro Parmentier/Couronnes. Sign up in the bar form 8pm, poetry starts 9pm.

On to a kaleidoscopic condensed poem of a report of words spoken and sung:

The waves brought a handful of fists
An alligator
The sudden pop of kneecap to neck bone
A foot like hailstones
There’s always someone in the family who takes the jibes
I’m so mean I make medicine sick
He looks bad enough to get shot
Smells of tar
Is hard at the seams
Made of peacock feathers
While syringes kiss
And I melt like a marshmallow sticky on a campfire
Everyone had a cigarette and cocktail that night
Even the children
As Fermat’s Last Theorem stripped off in Hollywood
Searching for harlequin who rode in on blue flames
Thick with memory and flesh
Tongue sulphur-thick
C’mon Mister – Get your jabberwocky out!

Hélène improvising

I’m killing the old mailing list (that works through meetup).

Crowd.

Willkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome to Spoken Word Paris. Thanks Troy. Mandoline opens, Jo plays the piano this time, James Navè having light issues (that’s my fault). David reading Pity le pauvre parisien: Who d’you think you are, Johnny Halliday?

Patrick.

Griffin’s got boyscouts in expedition between his legs. Come taste the poet. Em Johnstone with “Men are from mars, and girls are from Venus” and “Beautiful Pollution”. Listen to this one in a more domestic atmosphere. Lucy G. about traumatic sex, Brandon “eat me, drink me …..and Calvin Kline”, Kate operating necessary surgery. James “In high definition across the street, she pretended not to look”. Troy took this song called Festival from Sigur Ros, screwed the islandic and the gibberish syllables, rewrote a poem, sat down at piano and sang it. Holy Guacamole!!! Whadda xxxx is gibberish? A famous poem in gibberish is Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. Please Johnny Depp, can you read it for us?

Troy.

A new Chris Newens production, I just remember one line, ehm two words: “Faboulous breasts”. Jason Marcos: dry salt and many tears”. Felicia: two poems for the same person, some sappy shit (those are her words not mine), Megan Fernandes, the poetry editor of Strangers in Paris, is back in town “dating the taxodermist.” Check out her books and blog. Alberto’s for Megan panegyrical remix “Phenomenal Womegan”. Georginas backstabbing and opening secret files from Alberto’s sketchbook, secret dialogues during a lectures on “Dante and the conception of authority in the middle ages.” (“enormous huge gigantic boobs)” Sara and Anne “J’ai eu une enfance dificile”: Maxim slightly misunderstood the meaning of featured reader, so Miss Peacock and Amelia read when we were already overtime, but we made it! See you next monday here in Rue Jean Pierre Timbaud, down in the basement au Chat Noir!
Alberto