Poetry Slam Review Or There Is So Much More To Be Done

Went on Friday night to the regular poetry slam at the front cafe. This evening had a different format than usual. A woman's only reading. The night was very, very cool. Indeed one of the most interesting, exciting poetry events i have seen (heard?) in many a dreary year.

I was able to see my town in a new light, indeed it was as if a entirely new Canberra, shiny and bright, was unrolled in front of me. An entirely different feel to the normal events.

Mixed up with these feelings of newness and excitement was a certain sorrow and disappointment. It seems the vast majority of the same old crowd could not be bothered to show up. Sexism? Quite likely on one level, but let us be generous and define the no shows as narcissistic. (if I can not read my tired arse poems I will do nothing).

There is also an undercurrent of this sort of activity causing men to feel as if such an event was unfair to men. Poor middle class white men! I can feel your pain NOT! One woman's only reading in four years of these events, such a burden to the men! <sarcasm> How can such inequality be explained or tolerated </sarcasm>

Or this rather lame attempt at humour

"I cannot condone this harsh discrimination towards woman who are women on the inside, as opposed to women who are women in the pants."WTF

Speaking with some of the regulars, who could be bothered to show up, during the evening there did seem to be an opposition to the attitude that performing is far more important than art.

As always with poetry slam/readings the evening was a mix of good works and not so goods works. I got to hear a poem from Carol Ann Duffy England's new 'Poet Laureate'. A poem from e.e. cummings. A half forgotten rap which the ending rhyme, (something very much like)

You may think that we are good friends
But we are really lesbians

And then there was more of Helena's terrible beauty. Which makes me ashamed to call myself a poet.

Julia from Julia and the Deep Sea Sirens played and sang. There was an exhibit in the gallery for the Art for Aid auction.

(Sorry for leaving many poets out, but i did not take notes, so am relying on my notoriously fickle memory)

And then after a while I realised I was nothing more than a big graceless oaf, so I caught a cab home. Still it was a most enjoyable evening and one that, if given the opportunity I would encourage the organisers to repeat at least on a quarterly (that is 4 times a year) schedule, as enjoyable as it is to read one's poetry real understanding only comes from listening, and experiencing the new.