#NPS2016 Semi Finals
When PG left the Decatur Library auditorium wednesday, he thought he was through with the National Poetry Slam. Too much anger. Too much shouting. Going home with a headache is not pleasant. Your right to be angry does not include my obligation to listen.
An email thursday changed that. “Hello All, We also have ten to twelve shifts to fill for Friday that are up for grabs! Please shout out if you can be one of those people :)” Maybe Wednesday afternoon was a fluke, and things would be better with another try. PG replied to the email. The next assignment was a semi-final bout on Friday night. The venue was a chapel at Agnes Scott College. This is the beautiful women’s college just south of downtown Decatur.
The event began like most volunteer NPS gigs. You show up on time, and wait for something to do. The email said something about keeping food out of the auditorium. PG wound up standing at the front door, welcoming people with badges and tickets, and directing those needing tickets to the sales lady. It was the loosest door PG has ever seen. It was basically honor system, and seemed to work pretty well. The chapel was about two thirds full.
The plan was for a few teams, who won the first round, were competing for the finals. People… either solo, in pairs, or in teams… performed the work. The pieces were memorized, not read. Judges gave a score. Somebody was keeping track of the points. At the end, a winner was announced.
When the subject matter got too heavy, PG would step back into the lobby, or go outside. It was not an endurance contest. Most of the first few performers talked about black anger. This is a constant topic at NPS, and the rest of America. PG is sympathetic up to a point. This is a sensitive issue. If listening to all this anger would produce good results, PG would cheerfully do so. Instead, PG just tries to remember that he is one of G-d’s children. These things too shall pass away.
The other hot subject was rape. The winner of the haiku tournament was a lady from Austin TX, Gloria B. She performed a piece about rape. There was a lot of fast, loud, angry talking. PG missed some of the qualifying details. What he did hear was at the end. This is not a verbatim quote. “Men, if you want to know what rape culture is, it is you.” While Gloria B might not have meant that…. that men were rape culture … that is the message the PG heard. When people are shouting, subtleties and nuance go out the window. What comes through is the message… YOU ARE RAPE CULTURE.
Gloria B, and a partner, had a piece later in the show. The two women shouted, both standing up and crouched over. The piece could be summed up by a haiku Gloria B did wednesday… again, this is not a verbatim quote… call me bitch and that gives me permission to show you what one is. The piece was extremely well received by the audience. As for confusing Gloria B with a lady dog ….
There were several rounds of competition. One man did a delicious piece about bacon. A team from Charlotte did a piece where a black man told a poem, and a white man danced. The black Charlotte man later performed a piece, that referenced some of the other performers. The piece acknowledged the anger that drives many of the poets, but also saw a need to move past this into something for the greater good. (This is way one volunteer usher heard it.) PG thought this was the best piece of the night.
The winners were announced. Neo Soul, from Austin TX, goes to the finals. This is Gloria B’s team. PG hung around the chapel for a while, until the late show crew took over. PG had a headache when he left. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. While looking for these pictures, PG found his annual post about Hiroshima. The first atomic bomb was dropped on Japanese civilians seventy one years ago today.
National Poetry Slam
PG thought he could help out by volunteering for the National Poetry Slam. The 2016 edition is in Decatur GA, just a few dozen red lights down Clairmont Road. Three shifts were involved. They ranged from boring, to enjoyable, to busy/enjoyable, to excruciating.
The first day was registration. There was nothing to do, except sit behind a table, hand t-shirts to people, and point out the “money lady.” Eventually, there were a couple of chats to listen in on, and an urban explorer to compare notes with. Later was volunteer orientation, which was about as interesting as you might expect.
For some reason, PG volunteered to take on another shift. It was for a “Daytime Performing Venue.” PG went to the library, then to the hotel. He saw a schedule. The event was “Rookie Showcase,” held at the dependable Java Monkey.
The poets performed in an open mic format. It was the usual OM assortment, perhaps a touch better than Java Monkey Speaks. One lady talked about the joys (?) of motherhood. A couple of men talked about dealing with G-d. All PG had to do was be there, set up chairs, and pick up chairs when the event was over. It was a pleasant enough way to spend the morning.
The third day was general support at Afternoon events. At one o’clock, the event was “Head 2 Head Haiku.” People were paired off, the green performer and the blue performer. They read a haiku, and the judges held up a green, or blue glow stick, to indicate the winner. Whoever won that round moved into the next round, against another winner. It goes on until one person wins.
The host put PG to work. Working from a list of names, PG copied the names on slips of paper, to be drawn out of a hat. Next, the names were written on postit notes, to be stuck on the wall. After a round, the winner’s postit goes to the next round, and the loser goes on the table.
After a brief intermission, the second event was “Black Poets Speak Out.” A series of poets stood on the stage, and shouted. They were concerned about people being killed, mostly by policemen. After the third performer shouted that “we are in a post racial america, with a black overseer,” PG decided not to endure the toxic rhetoric.
Wednesday morning, four miles south of the Decatur library, 15 year old Keaira Palmer went to the S&N Superette on Glenwood Road. “She was just supposed to be going to the store to get a Sprite, a bag of hot chips and a Slim Jim.” Someone else drove by the store, and started shooting. None of the black poets spoke out about this incident. At least, not before PG left.
Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
Chamblee54 
leave a comment