Was something missing from the Eugene Poetry Slam, Round 5, at Foolscap Books, or am I just a picky Mickey who will never be satisfied with anything?
Maybe all the hooligans were distracted by the Civil War games, or maybe this is a sign that we should give up dreaming and pursue more mundane activities. Perhaps we should just learn to follow Stephen Stills’ and Jungle Book Balloo’s advice to love the one you’re with while accentuating the positive … Ahh, so many unanswered questions.
The Jan. 18 bout only created more uncertainty. Regional poets brought in their best work in hopes of being selected to represent Eugene in the National Slam Competition, only to find themselves performing for a subdued, uncommitted audience.
Because the judges are simply volunteer audience members, the scoring was grossly inconsistent and unfair. Despite warnings from the be-kilted master of ceremonies about “score creep”– the gradual, unconscious inflation of scores as the night progresses — it destroyed the chances of many a worthy poet. One poet, who really wasn’t worthy anyway, stormed out of the store, screaming the helpful suggestion — in no uncertain terms — that everyone in the room perform metaphorical fellatio after judges awarded him 22 points out of a possible 30 for a rather twisted take on the story of Adam and Eve.
Guest poet Morris Stegosaurus was the high point of the evening. The antithesis of commonplace, this Seattle resident and two-year veteran of the National Poetry Slam impressed the crowd with some odd-but-powerful pieces meant to toy with the audience’s conventions.
But, by the time the second round had ended, the previously packed little store held no more than 20-30 people and attention spans were obviously becoming taxed.
Even I, who could listen to poetry for days on end, found myself giving up my hope of being dazzled for one more night.
All poetry is respectable, and so are those who have the guts and motivation to share their deepest feelings with complete strangers, but my tastes were obviously different from the rest of the crowd. While the judges seemed to be looking for Barnes & Noble sentimentalities of oppressed revolutionaries, I was looking for energetic weirdos not only challenging ignorance, but also kicking around reality like corrupt cops beating down an unruly perpetrator.
The sixth and final preliminary round will be held Feb. 15. This is the last chance for the oddballs to worm their way out of the woodwork and shock the hell out of a growingly complacent and unsuspecting audience before the participants in the three final rounds are decided.
Contact the Pulse columnist at [email protected].