SpokenWord Paris

Some highlights, by David.

Marius groped his sister. “Eliza,” cried Colin, “ride me like a steed! Enfold me in your knees!” Amanda was at it too, despite being 84, she wanted to make love one more time. And she was transformed from marble to mozzarella.
James had an ode to CY O’Connor. He cycled from Perth to Melbourne. Sit in one space long enough and the Milky Way will come to you.
I read from and adapted from Nicke Greene’s lines in Virginia Woolf’s Orlando:

      Oh young writers will turn out any trash that will sell…It confounds me to think that I have sold only 500 copies of my poem! (Though this of course is largely due to what can only be described as a conspiracy against me.) It hurts me to say it, for I love literature – as I love life – but the art of poetry is dead in England.

Alexa reported on cat life.
Grace approached the morning fridge. Saved nobody with her final gasp.

Lauren, New York-based singer, let the blues roll through Culture Rapide.

John McNulty went home with the waitress.
Moe & Anne Marie murmured in the night.
Maxx’s children lie in silent spaces.
Bee never eats eggs alone.
Mike was dragged across the couch for 15 hours (or possibly the south, my handwriting was deteriorating as the night wore on…)
Pablo. Ah, Pablo, with his evil flowers.
REA corrupted the flesh. Will I ever find my mother, by and by, in the sky?
Miche Miche? A magician, lost on the metro.
Paul went howling through the bar like village fire.
Beth, lying closer to God (that sod).
Troy? Tenderness with a belt. A foolish heart on a rampage.

Camille did Motherology, in the name of her children.

 Next SpokenWord this Monday, 22nd Aug from 8.30.

link

The next Spokenword isn’t till 25th July when we launch the anthology Strangers in Paris, so why not come to the Culture Rapide on Thursday to hear two great poets and catch the free blues jam afterwards…

Denis blows the house down

Suzanna jazzed up a Shakespeare sonnet. Troy drowned in eager dreams, wanting somebody who crumbles, breaks, says sorry but slaps back. Julien took in flies like a whale takes in plankton. Later, he read a letter of complaint directed at his audience.

Julien Field

Kelly grave crazy advice while Harvey interpreted souls with Gilgamesh. Dheeraj’s toothless princess rode her aunt’s knee. Tous à cause de la secheresse, Ifeanyi a dit. But like a snap of the tongue, Alberto was water exploding on his own forehead while Maxx blotted out the names once carved into the great Cedar of Lebanon. 
But for Matilde, summer in the city was long gone.
 
As Trèlys asked, Will there be not a trace left behind?

SpokenWord will be back to find out at  9pm Monday 11th July at the Culture Rapide.

Harvey/Hérvé

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Every Wednesday at 9:30 PM (July and August) @ Theatre La Cible (62, rue Jean Baptiste Pigalle – Metro Pigalle)

Video teaser: http://vimeo.com/25081691

The only English-language open mic in New York City.

Poètes, écrivains, chanteurs—everyone gets five minutes to perform their chosen medium to a drunk and receptive audience. Based on the popular novel Spoken Word in Paris, curated by the inimitable brigands David Barnes and Alberto Rigettini.

Spoken Word New York

(Text by Patrick)

Sepideh Soltaninia opened with her poem: “Alexandra”:
“This is the history century old bridges tell of a country who hides its bruises in reserves and downtown cores. Whose bridges serve as bars with 8 am calls, so next time my feet grace the surface of your new skin, show me sunsets and snowfalls, and I beg you, tell me nothing of my history.”

In this competition for the most mesmerizing name, the second contestant is Ifeany Awachi. Julian Field explained why “with an erection you can have a baby, but it’s better not to have an erection with a baby” introducing his new one man show:“My Personal Waterloo”, watch the teaser.
A ukulele new trio made up by Trelys, Marie and Ella, rocks the house with a ukulele classic: “Has anybody seen my girl?” A cynical girl, Lynne and a Bad Boy, John: “I want to be a sinner, but nobody takes me seriously.” A family girl, Hannah: “I’m not a mother or a wife, but I’m a sister and a daughter and an au pair for four french children and that means I know enough to write a poem.” A poem called “Four”.To forget Zach, Esmeralda launched her solo career “I’m allergic to you…” Trelys closed part one with a song called “Aloha”. “Aloha” in hawaiian means goodbye, hello, I love you, you’re cool: Hal, Adele, Zach, Ben, Lucy, Patrick.
Yes, our featured mispelled Weiner was Patrick Hipp, explicit, romantic and hot-hearted into the Gates Of Hell (I’m talking about Rodin’s museum).

Sam “after vomiting”, Mandoline in “morning conversation”, Emilie “run away” (from Louisiana), Harvey with a bilingual rap for his students in Jersey City, Marie and Antoine warming up for la Fete de la Musique, Alberto’s tango: “While I was killing you, I was telling you I love you.” Troy: “We prepare for a feast, what smelling feet we have sometimes”, The Maxx, LA Elen Cellier from French to English and back, Tyler: “So shame on you for dying, shame on me for everything else…” KellyJoy, Hannah and the unsugarable unforgettable Jenny Z’s: “Cum Farths”. Then our featured mispelled booner Patrick had his final act. The whole house singing along one more time (and probably even the day after):
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, someday soon.”

But on the 16th refrain of “Please don’t go”, somebody said: “I’m going.”