BRISBANE POETRY SLAM SECOND HEAT 2008
September 22nd 2008 01:36
(Image taken from Triple J Unearthed website here)
Some friends and I went to a poetry slam off heat at the Brisbane Writer’s Festival. There were about one hundred and forty people there; twenty of them competed. If you won that heat, then you’d compete with the other winners throughout Queensland. If you win THAT heat, then you’d compete with the winners from other states in Sydney, in the Opera House. If you win in Sydney, then, well, you’ll win a lousy, lousy, ten thousand bucks.
As an audience member in the Poetry Slam, you’re allowed to cheer or boo the competitors and the judges. A lot of people have their own definitions of what poetry is. To me, poetry is about being naked momentarily; it’s about giving the world your soul. Imagine having your soul rated out of ten in front of over a hundred people.
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It was about one in the morning and I was drunk again, lost again. The Brisbane River was behind us, the grass was quiet, shy. Vicki gave me a piece of paper and her pen. She smiled as she tucked some hair behind her ear and told me to write a short poem down. She told me that she’ll write one down too. I looked at the paper, at my pen. Something about it frightened me. I wrote down nothing and folded the paper up. She folded her paper up and we exchanged each other’s pieces. She said, Don’t open it, don’t read it. Eat it.
What?
She giggled and said, Put it in your mouth. I’ve heard people say worse things, so I didn’t question her again. I just put her poem in my mouth. She put my paper in her mouth. We looked at each other, chewing and swallowing the paper.
That was easily the greatest meal I’ve ever had, I told her. She laughed and held my hand.
Here is my challenge for you: write a poem. Don’t put it up here, just write it down on a piece of paper. What’s your passion? What are you, what breaks you, what glues you, what hurts and what shoves you forward? Be completely honest with yourself. After you write it, read it. Kiss it. Do whatever the hell you want with it, I won’t be watching.
Liza Garza - My Everything (HBO's Def Poetry Jam)
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