Port Veritas

Functional assistance in functioning

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 17:57:00 +0000

On wednesday 8/20 we had our first real meeting of the writers group hosted by Wil and I, you know I wanted to say Wil and me but some grammar freak on the internet would be headbutting their computer monitor. You win grammar! Anyway, it was at 6 o'clock same place the North Star Cafe which was insanely quiet. Nothing but very solemn people tapping away on lap tops, I got their early and so I relaxed into my nervousness. I didn't want to head into a situation where writers of varying talent were depending on me to take them to some higher plane of literary stature. I AM NOT THAT GOOD, also there is no higher plane of literary stature anymore(I refuse to believe the higher plane of literary stature is where Dan Brown exists).

I've been writing since before I could write I would walk around and dictate stories to my mother while she wrote it all then I would draw the pictures. Writing is all I've ever done and wanted to do but I'm still not that good, talking down to others about writing also INSTANTLY makes you a bad writer. Writing is a zone...a frame of mind and if you fall out you might never be back.

Wil was excited he just came out of Nationals and wanted to share concrete ways to get better like breathe control and projecting he knew my job was a little harder. I was in charge of addressing content and I knew he would help greatly because we both share that same idea that the human life is the baddest motherf#cking thing ever and if your writing can inch at all close to that you win.

It went well, it was a small crowd and we got comfortable with each other and talked about who we were through our relationship with writing and how to address things in a way that will surprise the reader...pleasantly. How to tone down the bad anger and pump up the good anger the righteous kind that makes other people mad too.

A couple of them were just happy to have people to talk to about their writing who wouldn't throw a big happy smile on top of everything they presented. Someone who could look at them and say "That wasn't as good as the first one" or "Where is the rest of it..." and Nate stopped by and helped out it was a really solid vibe. If Port Veritas is a community then its important that we as the ones who help to make it function dont act as an aristocracy that we reach out to everyone so that they will reach back and perform. I relaxed quickly once I realized what everybody wanted was a genuine critical voice I can definitely be that. If you want someone to be fussy about poetry, short stories, prose come to the writers group on Wednesdays its going to happen every week till the wheels fall off.

Party for the death of an era

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 18:10:00 +0000

We used to not be we at all, The group that meets at the North Star Cafe at the top of Congress street used to just be a lot of people reading and Nate. Nate would put out the list and I would sign up and wave sheepishly at him. Wil would walk in with a bag that contained a gatorade and he would sign up then drink the gatorade and sit waiting for Kelly. That was normal, Nate booked the features, maintained the website, organized events, acted in plays and the other people that helped only did so in such marginal fashion that I am not even going to give them detail. Great people, but not detail worthy.

This week we celebrated the death of the spirit of that normality. We can no longer afford a comfortable stability, we must move molecules until confusion gets us noticed. I thought that the great confusion would resolve itself after our team came back from the National Poetry Slam and placed....anywhere. It turns out that was only the beginning, now we have a group of people with the taste of more and better. Once a poet or a writer can see better or more from where he or she is a good one won't stop. A good one will hit an all out sprint to get there and that is what I underestimated.

Now we are all each other's keeper and that's serious, we're a beach that feels every grain of sand washed in and washed away keeping count. Every voice that comes through that microphone is ours for an instant and maybe more, if we do everything we can to embrace it. It's for me no longer about love, I love Nate or I love Wil or I love Sean. I am Port Veritas and will do whatever I can to help it, I know they are too and so we will pour buckets of "expendable" income into this to grow it.

It's a funeral for accepting just enough to keep it going, its a pact to send lightning into Frankenstein and wake up the neighbors. Not only will I help organize but i'll pound keys until I've got something fit for you, more and better then I ever was. Things will be changing in the next few weeks and we need whoever cares to care more and better.

The boys of summer and the Personal Outrage of Nervousness

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 13:26:00 +0000

first off I have to tell everyone, I love making titles for writing. I have more fun doing it then Tom Wolfe did in the 70's. Anyway, I have been a flaming nervous wreck sitting out a home like the doting housewife of a soldier to war (although on a signifigantly smaller scale). The Port Veritas National Slam team who I now refer to simply as the BOYS OF SUMMER because I create nicknames all the time and without thought, came into Madison like a house of fire and took third place in their first bout. I left out a detail however the team they lost too WON the whole freaking tournament in 2006 and in 2007 came in FOURTH for a first time team to compete with people at a level like that is some serious David and Goliath sh#t right there. So in the first round Goliath kicked the tar out of us but it was a learning experiance. Nate was slow with the phone pickup and the National poetry website WAS NOT UPDATING FAST ENOUGH!!! I knew they had to come out like a house of fire in the second bout or we would come back feeling like our best foot hadn't come forward.

I did finally get to speak with Nate after calling him 3 times a day and he didn't mention anything about screwing up and since he never compliments himself(GOD I WISH I COULD DO THAT!) I knew he had scored well and apparently Wil had the high score for our team in the first bout. Nate and Wil were both fine so the wheels hadn't fallen off the cart we just needed to push the cart faster. The problem is in the second round we face White Plains New York who beat us already in a practice run and LOS ANGELES who are always inside the winning circle and captained by Shihan who is the talent scout and a routine performer on DEF POETRY JAM. Shihan has that effortless conversational vibe that KILLS!!!! I'm sure his team is going to be rock solid.

Well that was a bout going on Thursday and Friday I got the update....WE TOOK SECOND!!! OH YEAH!!!! First Maine slam team in over 10 years maybe 15 and we placed above Bostons Lizard Lounge team (Who are AWESOME) and the Chicago Green Mill team(who started slam) and most of the new england teams(except War chest her Mass THATS RIGHT I SAID IT WRONG ON PURPOSE! CORRECT ME!!!!) I promise no more exclamation marks for now but I was excited because our score was very good. I didn't find out till late saturday but it looks like the final listing came out and we were 36 out of 77 or so teams. I am worn out. Sean, Wil, Juba, Jake and Nate are so pumped up I'm not sure I could create a metaphor for it. The world is just a little bit different for them now and I'm probably most excite for Sean and Jake who are so young and so talented and this is just the start for them, its like being a first year quarterback in the superbowl even when you lose it you never lose the lessons you learn from it. They'll all be back in the superbowl next year. I'll do anything I can to make sure of that.

the cheesiest ending to any blog ever written.

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 20:22:00 +0000

I remember how excited my mom was to show it to me on the computer. I remember there was a buzz it was something that was written for school to complete some sort of foolish assignment designed to stimulate the minds of ragged youth. My sister had written a poem.

I remember reading it and thinking that this was the saddest shit any second grader had ever written. It was just creepy and detached but it lasted after you read it. It wasn't a matter of being impressed, it was something else entirely. It was hers and it always would be.

She kept writing feverishly as smart kids going through grade school do, surrounded by the social trappings of her environment she closed herself off and just did it. As far as I know she lost out on parties and keg stands and pep rallies. She was writing.

Her english teachers were so smitten that they couldn't even call her high school thoughts undeveloped(which is the job of an english teacher) they were in love with how creepy it was and how passive the anger was. My sister was born so clever and so quiet that sometimes I would poke at her until she insulted me and then just LAUGH at how funny the run down would be. She's so interesting I hate when she's quiet and tries to give a sly shy look. Its crap.

When she sits alone and writes she's in complete control now, she picks up the keyboard and shuffles from stanza to stanza like Tiger Woods going hole to hole. It's something to read, I'll tell you. She's taught me a lot about poetry and when she speaks about it I listen but make sure to never let her know that she's better then I ever was, creates a more layered picture in a shorter amount of words. Less waste. I'm older so I can't do that, I have to appear like the smart successful one and turn up the effects loud enough that she doesn't look behind the curtain. If she did she'd see me studying her stuff.

I have thought about why we both were drawn to writing, whether it was something my mother did or maybe our mutual love of superhero cartoons in the late 1980's. I have no idea and I have no solid leads on an answer anything I think of sounds pretentious and makes what we do even more important then I normally classify it. I don't like doing that. For me writing is just like brick building or selling fat cream over the phone. Its an art and all that really matters is that you have the capability to do it well. My sister has a hard time doing it any other way.

organized poetries answer to MORTAL KOMBAT

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 17:55:00 +0000

So as of the first week of next month the Port Veritas PORTLAND MAINE slam team will be going to compete nationally in Madison Wisconsin. We paid our dues we registered(we as a collective of course I didn't do anything at all) got our plane tickets and now its time. I'm not going which is great, that is a lot of pressure. To go on after the best in the game and to potentially go all the way to nationals and get your anal cavity handed to you by a bunch of long hairs from -pick obscure embarrassing American city and paste here- I wouldnt be able to stand myself. Bobby Knight and Mike Tyson would have to hold me back, i'd be furious till the umpire ejected me. I hope they have umpires. YOUR OUT!!!!!OVERLY BROAD SYMBOLIC USAGE OF A RAINBOW!!!!

Anyway, they have all worked incredibly hard at this even young shoeless Jake Wartell who doesn't ever look like he's working hard because he's having so much darn fun everywhere. He's one of the hardest working poets I've met, constantly working in both fronts performance and content. He's been very influencial to other poets who read at the North Star. He's brilliant, magnetic and he's the freaking alternate people!!! How deep are we? Deeper then the world's gas dependency issues. That's deep.

I'm not worried about them losing because a slam isn't like a superbowl where one time walks into the pantheon of history while the other becomes a shameful footnote. At nationals when the spotlight shines they will all be able to unveil the work that makes them each so unique and that taste for the audience and the other poets is what lives on. The good performers leave a slam with people buzzing not about the scores but about them and wanting more. That is the real victory that I wish for each member of our nationals team, make the audience and the judges pee themselves.

socks

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 12:53:00 +0000

You will like Jay Davis, I'm not pre-supposing on you. Your certainly entitled to come to your own conclusion BUT its going to happen. He's tall and whenever I see him he's smiling walking with a slow labored feel he won't even have to talk to you. You'll like him and when he sits on a stool on stage at the North Star in the future(its going to happen) and reads you his work you'll continue to like him it will add another dimension to the way you like him.

I put him up there with anyone, Jack McCarthy, Patricia Smith even NATHAN AMADON. That's right I said it. I always felt odd early on in the veritas days, people were reading poetry and getting big applause they would read pieces and say "GOVERNMENT IS CORRUPT" and people would scream and applaud or "BUSH SUCKS" same reaction. It seemed to be about making all the anger in your life about serious issues compact and visual in your performance. I wasn't like that, I never really wrote anything in anger just long stories that ended with a sad quiet dignity or the promise of hope. My nickname early on could have been Wet Noodle.

Whenever Jay came and read I sat and stared at him trying to learn. He is the perfect mixture of sad, funny, intelligent, philosophical, hopeful, humble, EVERYTHING I aspired to be. That's how I felt the first time i saw him years ago and thats even more how I feel today after buying his book SOCKS at Longfellow Books. Leave it to Jay to create an environment in that book where a bad poem can't live, every one speaks like he does with deliberate care and purposeful humor while trying desperately to cover up the part of him thats sad. Not glum but horrified lightly by the inequalities of life, the violence, everything those kids were yelling about he hides in a dark corner of his poetry and leaves it up to the reader to find it.

I have a poem I call the nose poem that I read sometimes, its for my girlfriend and its sappy like me. I read it while Jay was there and when we both walked outside he turned to me and said "That nose piece was great. If I was a girl, I would have fucked you."

I spent the whole night giddy and waiting and when my girlfriend finally walked in I pulled her close and said "JAY DAVIS SAID HE WOULD FUCK ME!!!" Then i told her the full story.

Bottom line is if your in Portland go to Longfellow Books and buy Socks for $8 or you can go to the moonpie press website I think they have it setup so you can order it online. Jay taught me that its ok to make people laugh and that its not un-artistic to do that, he reaffirmed my notions of responsibility as an author that when you write something its your job to lead the reader to the point...if you have a point. He made me so jealous I always feel like I should have a point.

the monster

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 15:05:00 +0000

The stage is a beast. Nothing the north star cafe can do about it, you can't beat it away with a broom stick or hire an exterminator. The stage is a monster and its our fault. It happens when people get together something changes, the pressure of a collective group in attention to one spot one place one person changes everything. I have seen the most brilliant minds go up with stuff I could only dream to have written or the opportunity to read and they shake and shiver and stutter until the eyes turn away. They come off stage with a hang dog look chewed up and spit out by the monster.

The stage is magic as well it comes with the illusion, I've seen people fall in love with it. I've seen people go up and wondered if they would ever leave it, looking at their face and how happy they were to have everyones attention. I'm like that too but good enough to be embarrassed about it. The illusion is in that sugar high ego boost you get when you do it just right and people you don't know pat you on the back. Its a hall of mirrors and you walk through it confused until your like Bruce Lee at the end of Enter the Dragon and you just start smashing them.

People walk out on you to have cigarettes or just meander but you can't begrudge after all who doesn't love to meander? I've seen people change fighting the monster, they win, they lose, they win again and after a while they become grizzled vets who march up and do better then i can on their worst day. It does something to you over time and it takes a super-spiritual balanced person like Nate to really check those emotions. Its easy to feel like a star on this stage even when you were supposed to make the poem, the piece....the star.

The healthiest way to look at the monster is like this whole thing is an experiment. Like an experiment you should have a hypothesis, if your desired effect is to go onstage and arrange dirty words in a way to put people out of their comfort zone. DO IT! I've seen it before and love it. If your desired effect is to pay tribute too or run down someone in your life. DO IT! I've seen it before and I love it. You do this to see how words look in the light of other people's minds, is the idea strong enough to survive a live transition? Or is it going to live in your notebook next to the unfinished story you wrote about being a space man? I never know but I'm never scared to try, i'm nervous and my hands shake like leaves and i feel like i'm going to throw up but I don't.
I have almost cried, those are the best times what scares a group of people more then a person about to come to tears in front of them on stage? Nothing.

The key is to keep imagining keep closing your eyes and sorting through the stuff that might be good. Keep carving it and sanding it down and present it proudly. We'll all know the work you put in. Trust me.

tommorow I lose my virginity

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 15:59:00 +0000

If you do anything enough you do it better. This would probably be what i've learned above all with Port Veritas. On July 4th our first Anthology comes out, we started preparing it years ago when I would harrass Nate every night he hosted about it. "Do you need me to send you more stuff? I have more stuff!" I already had a lot of stuff, but it wasn't the stuff that we have now. I kept bugging Nate and talking to Wil about it and asking for participation from everyone but Santa.

Finally Nate turned it over to me and I began bugging the authors a lot of them without saved, edited documents they just turned over to me multiple crumpled notebooks sometimes with two or three different versions of the same piece. It was terrible because poet notebooks are all in some disgusting bombed out version of cursive. I HATE YOU CURSIVE!

I read them and re read them and sometimes i called the authors to run a part by them but in going through the process of saving them on documents and filing them under one folder I fell in love all over again with the wide spectrum of ideas that exist under our umbrella. We settled on the perfect picture to represent it just a deserted Portland street whistling with the lives of so many crossing paths sometimes incidentally sometimes purposefully and forever.

At our best that is how we are and I'm going to buy ten copies. I'm going to force my mother to read some of it. I'm going to march with it and keep beating the drum until the sound is perfect, its what we've all done. Tommorow is not a big deal in the end. Just ask Nate about next year.

To Saul

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 13:37:00 +0000

Dear Saul Williams,

First of all I should thank you, because if Slam poetry is an artform then to be legitimate every artform needs its Louis Armstrong. A talent to blow harder and more passionately then anyone else of his time in a way that leaves everyone after touched by the influence.

Thank you for performing live at Brandeis University, if I hadn't seen that show I wouldn't know the truth. That through the blistering words and hand motions through the metaphors and raps it is a man giving them not a prophet or a god or even a celebrity.

I saw you laugh and stumble, mess up and go back again like we do. It was like seeing Samson pick a wedgie. I was only mad that I could share this with all the other people that know you as MISTER BAD ASS POET SUPREME that memorize your lines and constantly repeat that write their own but are all tied to yours. We're all tied to you and so some of us watch old tapes or read the old poems and say "I find it kind of pretentious now" but I don't know if we believe it. We're writers too scared of losing the past to degrade it too far but never willing to value someone on such a large scale together. It seems weird.

I even bought that weird industrial album you sold over the internet with the cover of u2's Sunday Bloody Sunday..........yeah...I look forward to you moving in new directions.

Some of us aren't as in love with the industrial sound as you are.

It's so scary that after all these years your still the face of us, so much work so much progress and we can't get away from that. SHA-CLACK CLACK I WAS BEFORE THAT!!!!

Thanks Saul

the kid

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 18:15:00 +0000

My memories are balls of yarn they tangle up into each other over time so things are hard to differentiate. I have to start at the start. When we first started performing at the North Star Cafe we couldn't believe we noticed this kid behind the counter and strangely enough he would sign up and perform at the end of the night. Poets don't like people so a lot of us grumbled and to us he was "one dimensional" with too much "gun talk" but Wil liked the kid.

Everytime Wil and the kid worked together that next week he come out even better then before even more determined. The kid's name is Sean and he was 17 at the time, Wil and him started hanging out and since I hang out with Wil I got to see him work. He worked harder and better and faster then any of us ever anticipated so we kept pushing him. Little by little everyone got excited I think all for different reasons.

The night that all this introduction wraps into is the night Sean got his own full feature at the North Star Cafe on our night. He had gone from background to best kept secret to feature and he represented all of us on that night. Everything he did right we had encouraged and pushed him so we all won with him. I have never seen the North Star that packed. I remember seeing people looking in from the windows, not smoking just drawn in by him. I wish I could describe it right and I tried, Wil and I wrote dueling introductions for him and read them one after another on that night. I still have mine here it is.

I'd call him Kid Kinetic if i had to throw a nicknamethe type of dude that's loud even in a moment of silence
Eighteen going on thirty, fuck an old soul his is just worldly
like it got popped with shots and got up off the gurney
The kid is in motion learning as he goes that's the scariest part of it.
When i see him suck all the air out of the room i'm thinking fuck, he's not even at his peak.
Not even trying to spit game just lace every line with enough slick shit to incite sickness he can't make the blind see but he makes loud people quiet
uses dramatic pauses like pro players use balco to cheat I should tell you the kid is dope in its pure form Hot in a snow storm I'd call him that cause ain't shit more valuable then dope thats why you can flip it The same adverbs from my hand to his get hotter now that's pushing hard weight in a serious way The best part is his best work is what he just finished so every pen stroke marks a new day for me I'm watching one man develop exponentially and behind the icy delivery and firm tone there is a great tragedy in the background of each poem It's what makes you think why is this young man so old? The triumph over adversity that you can hear verbally and the pain that comes through wordlessly its perfectly poetic accuracy cause you can personally know him as well as anyone by just listening.

He went on after Wil and I did the introduction and his sisters were there and everyone was spellbound, by the quiet shy swagger of this project kid. A kid that never smiled enough on this day was all white teeth exposed. Outside he hugged Wil and I and said "That was soooo Thorough. " I hope it was, I hope its somewhere near as thorough as we all pictured ourselves being not to get attention from people but for the advancement and betterment of others. We did a small thing for Sean that night that he pays back everytime he takes that microphone. Its a good deal.

Back from the dead like the democratic party

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 21:20:00 +0000

So I was on vacation in Puerto Rico for a week because my job makes me take vacation and I figured if i traveled I could help this flaundering American economy. WORKING LIKE A CHARM by the way, but I'm back and ready to run down memory lane with the people that i force to read this.

It starts at Wil's house just sitting around as a lot of stories start, a lot of us would find ourselves there listening to music and comparing notes. Its like it must have been for old comics starting out where Rodney Dangerfield see's Richard Lewis and says "Hey I got this new one, tell me what you think." We all wanted to know what each other thought before we went on stage and worked it. Reading something for an audience that sucks but you didn't know it sucks until just then really does suck.

Will Antony is kind of a man for all seasons, he can sing like he knows what he's doing, dance the same way, and when he lines everything up he can dance down some amazing poetic notions the one's we've all tried before and he can do them better. Somehow we were talking about the deadliest word in language. The C-word, now if you dont know what i mean by this I am not even allowed to explain it, that is how untouchable this word is right now dont think elliot ness untouchable think lowest class in India untouchable.

One of my friends had written a piece a long time ago where he calls his girl the C-word and then she slams the door in his face. Crowd still wasn't happy, even the exchange of one word for a wood door to the face didn't seem even. I stay away from the word altogether, so does Wil and most of us agreed but working with words as long as a lot of us have...well...having one out there that you know you can't touch...its just unnerving. Will Antony had done it, he leveraged his piece with so much positive uplifting inspiration that by the time he said the C-word he was confident the women in the crowd would unite around. The sentence was "have the nerve to call your woman ho, bitch, C-WORD and then kiss your mother with them lips." So you get the idea, for once scratching our heads like apes we felt we had done it. Or at least he had.

Boy did he deliver, on that tuesday he went up on that stage and belted it out lamenting the poor communications between the sexes and all the time I've got sweaty palms thinking HE IS GOING TO SAY THE C-WORD and god bless him he did and there were about three women in the crowd that cheered like John Lennon came back and sang the most beautiful song about C-Words ever. He nailed it. They loved him. They still do.

Last time I talked to him I really had begun to feel the deep strange uniqueness of Will Antony everyone I know knows him from somewhere and you know what? They all love him, you just can't help it. He's just someone who likes to end a conversation with a smile and something happy and ends a poem most times the same way.

The real Dear Mama

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Wed, 21 May 2008 13:00:00 +0000

All of the moments I've thought about writing for this blog feel like the biggest and most important when you think of them individually. This one even moreso then some others, I know Wil Gibson a lot of people do that have attended Port Veritas. He's more then a regular or a core part of the group like Juba he's one of great monuments for us like the grand canyon.
I know him outside of this context I've seen him work, seen him memorize and plow forward just as hard offstage as on. On one Saturday hanging around with him at his place(in a terrible part of town a block from where I live) he read me a new poem he had written and I was unprepared for it. It was too much for me at the time, i told him was him hitting a "next level" just because I knew that It was so beyond where I could ever go.

That next tuesday came around and there's no point buying a fast car if your not going to pick a lonely highway to ride it on. He was destined to do the unveiling and Nate was hosting which was perfect. Nate will always be that top dog that forces Wil to surpass his best continually. Nate introduced him briefly and stepped aside so it could start.

His voice was low and he coughed out some of the words, I was getting it this time letting it connect to me. It was so scary because it could, no it will be me. Wil had written a poem not to be a poem at all but as a simple letter to his mother. Its scary because Wil loves his mother like I do, like no one or nothing ever touches that not even Dad not even faith not even GOD.

She's dead. She died a long time ago but as he read he was singing to us the song of constant sorrow the side of you that never recovers from the most important thing being gone. Dear Mama, he said and he appologized for not being enough for not amounting to the greatness she gave him every day. It wasn't just me who felt that shit, everyone was blown right out of position people were crying and wiping away tears. It took everything for him to hold together thats how I knew and how he knew that this was the perfect piece. When he left stage Nate was speechless and took a moment...Nate's a pro and he doesn't usually need a moment.

He read that piece again for me a while ago and its always frozen in the moment, after he was done he had to put his notebook away. It takes a lot out of him. It takes a lot of all of us but it puts a lot back in, a lot about being human.
thanks Wil.

Dan O takes this blog's soul like Dracula takes necks

noreply@blogger.com (veritas2) — Wed, 14 May 2008 22:13:00 +0000

So I have been given this blog to update with whatever I like. These people are so misinformed they think I have some kind of hidden intelligence behind the dog and pony show I march out. Thats their problem.

Anyway, I want to use this to talk about Port Veritas which has a long shadow it casts backward. Some memories are hot holes that burn right into you, take up space that never will be filled by anything else. One such time was probably about two years ago at least. I still had stupid unmanageable hair but the crowd was different, it felt high school at times with splintered off groups of people in hip vintage clothes who were artists, poets, recording artists, and very hip. You could go into a reading and not be talked too.

This night was slam night and I knew the slam poets, I just didn't talk to them. I was looking at them and all of the heavy hitters had shifty eyes dancing with fear from side to side asking themselves "Who is that guy?" "Is he going to slam?" Slammers try and put the scenario together way before it happens, what place they are on the list, what order they read what pieces, what hat they wear, how high they get, it all has to be a perfect swirling storm.

No one knew who Juba was. When he took his first turn I almost lost it, I had that sick smile on my face. Hip Hop had a face hear now, all the watered down kids who read poems that started "The night was electric" would have to write more and write better. This wasn't just a slam poet, this was living melodic energy swaying as he spoke each word knowing each part of each poem like most people know their shoes. If I was a slammer i wouldn't have loved it, I would have swore to myself.

It was the first and only time I ever saw someone walk in off the street and win the slam. I knew people that always signed up and never won and never would, he just had it. On that night he pushed every great regular poet back 3 steps and they had to scramble to catch up. Some of us are still scrambling. I swear a lot when I'm impressed with someone, I swore a lot to my friends about him that night.

I still swear a blue streak thinking about it. It was a dark dank building(before the phenomenal one we have now) and he lit it up, with nothing but pure human Swaggerstomp storytelling.

PV Keeps on Trucking

noreply@blogger.com (Port Veritas) — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 04:46:00 +0000

So it was a slow summer and it looked like it was going to be a slow fall. I couldn't have been more wrong. We've seen and added some new faces to our family. We've seen one of the scariest poetry slams in Portland's history (which was one by a low down dirty cheater). And the Mt. Mafia hit us with some killer work. So what to do from here...

Well we're continuously trying to come up with a decent regular schedule that will keep you all entertained. I think we've got it. Stay in tune for our reincarnation of the Jazz Spoken Word night and our new Micro Press poetry night. We're also working on an all female poetry evening featuring Patricia Smith. This will be part of a quarterly women in poetry series.

For all of those who make it down all the time..Thank You!!! For those of you who can't make it...god bless you. you're really missing out. For those of you who would like to come but don't....there's no damn excuse. Get your butts down to The North Star Cafe on any Tuesday and we'll welcome you to our family.

Take care!!

Blogged with Flock

noreply@blogger.com (Port Veritas) — Thu, 04 Oct 2007 02:54:00 +0000

So it's fall again at Acoustic (i.e. PV Spoken Word) and we're gearing up for a great season. Here's what we have on the menu...

October 9th – The Second Tuesday Slam Featuring Andrea Gibson

Andrea Gibson returns for her second feature at The North Star Café. Andrea has headlined everywhere from the Nuyorican Poet's Café, to Pride Fests and Lady Fests, to high schools and universities throughout the country. She has been showcased on Free Speech TV, Dyke TV, the documentary Slam Planet, and Independent Radio Stations nationwide. She is featured on New York City's 2004 Best of Urbana CD, and is currently a member of the prestigious Bullhorn Collective "comprised of 30 of the highest ranking slam poets and most accomplished performance poets in the world." She has shared the stage with such names as Leslie Feinberg, Amy Goodman, Dennis Kucinich and KRS1.

Along with Andrea we will be holding our monthly slam. The Second Tuesday Slam is Portland’s longest running and only poetry slam. It is open to all who wish to compete for a modest (VERY modest) cash prize. Please show up early to sign up.

You can learn more about our feature at: www.andreagibson.org

October 16th – K Peddler Bridges and the Biker Poets

Road Poet & Acoustic Spoken Word founder K Peddler Bridges returns to the reading he created. Along with Peddler will be some of our favorite road poets. This biker poetry gang is the only biker group that requires you be a published journalist to be a member of. These poets bring with them some of the finest high octane prose this side of the Mason Dixon. As always this is a feature not to be missed.

You can learn more about our feature at: http://community-2.webtv.net/bikerpups/ROADPOETeMAGAZINE/

October 23rd – Sean’s B-Day Feature

This Tuesday belongs to one of our favorite PV Slammers. Sean has been dropping bombs from the stage since we opened up our new reading at The North Star. Since then he’s gone from the guy running the sound, to one of the loudest, finest and most energetic poets to grace our stage. So in honor of his birthday and his progression as an artist we give him the stage for this very special feature. Happy Birthday Sean!!!

Port Veritas October Schedule

October 20th – The Dead Poetry Slam

This will be PV’s second Dead Poetry Slam. Last year we featured the talent of Jack McCarthy, the PV poets and members of USM’s theatre department joined us for a few staged reading of some creepy classics. This year we change it up just a little.

The evening will open with an abbreviated open read followed by a half our set of our house DJ/Band Mystery Machine. Then we welcome our friends from AIRE (American Irish Reparatory Ensemble) to creep us out with a staged reading of an Irish horror classic. Did you know Bram Stoker was from Ireland? After that we finish off the evening with the Dead Poetry Slam. This slam will be unlike any other. The rules are simply this: bring three poems written by anyone taking a dirt nap. Beyond that there are no rules. Costumes, teams and anything else is strongly encouraged. To give you an idea of what makes a winner, picture this. A slammer bringing to stage the work of Sylvia Plath, dressed as Sylvia down to every detail, including her head in an oven. It’s as true as it is disturbing. So use your imagination. All are welcome to compete.

North East Slam Invitational & Other Shtuff!!

noreply@blogger.com (Port Veritas) — Sun, 24 Jun 2007 18:13:00 +0000

So last night we hosted Maine Reads Youth Speaks. This was a two part event that showcased some of the Poetry Out Loud Students as well as some of Boston & Portland's finest slammers. If you were there you would have seen me running around like a methed out speed freak. As long as I do this stuff I will never get over deep fear and anxiety that cripples my ability to reason and function like a normal human being. It must be very fun to watch.

The first part of the evening was a bit of a slow start. Not a lot of people showed up and we got kind of a late start. However by the end of it we had a full house and they were all such a great audience. We were lucky enough to have Sarah Cecil (the Maine Reads Festival of the Book organizer) join us. This woman has done so much for literacy and the art of writing in Maine I was honored to have her stop by.

From Poetry Out Loud we welcomed Sabrina Castle and Riva Dumont. Sabrina performed some original pieces that were both touching and extremely sophisticated. I was extremely impressed to see such expressive and intriguing work come out of someone her age. Following Sabrina was the 2006 Poetry Out Loud Maine state champ Riva Dumont. She performed a few of the pieces that she competed with in 2006 and impressed the hell out of a few people, myself included. I tried to get her to perform some of her own work but she'd not have it. Perhaps next time.

Then we moved on to the Slam which turned out to be an impromptu Portland vs. Cantab slam. Joining the long list of slammers was a very special 7th grader Spencer Hugo-Vidal. This kid won the hearts of everyone there with two very impressive pieces. Lets hope he returns and keeps writing. From Boston we welcomed Simone, Brian Ellis & Alphonso Rigatoni (and no it's not his real name). Representing the Port Veritas poets we had Wil, Sean, Wil Anthony & Dan. It was a knock down drag out fight with some very high scores including a perfect score for Rigatoni who would go on to win the whole kitten caboodle (anyone know what the hell that means?). Taking second place was our very own Wil Anthony who was closely trailed by Brian Ellis. All in all it was a great evening....and we only lost a little bit of money...now thats success. Maybe I shouldn't be a business major after all.

This week we'll be once again welcoming back the poets of Moon Pie Press. Featuring for Moon Pie will be local favorites Michael Macklin & Michelle Lewis. Its been a long and eventful weekend for the Portland literary scene. But don't let that stop you from coming out this Tuesday to see and hear a little bit more of way makes Portland poetry the hottest shit around.

Hey!! It's Summer How About Some Kickass Poetry...

noreply@blogger.com (Port Veritas) — Sun, 22 Apr 2007 21:23:00 +0000

So here we are. A new venue. Some new friends and a new season to begin the whole shabang. Somehow despite my refusal to believe in the collective unconscious, fate, karma, the succinct nature of humanity and white after labor day, god (who I'll believe in as long as (s)he and I can agree to disagree) continues to batter and berate my better judgement. Sometimes the way things seems to naturally work themselves out of deep dark holes and into something good, great and down right spectacular, amazes the hell outta me.

So we'd lost the place we'd called home for years, the poets we'd gathered were scattered to the wind and Alberto Gonzales would never be as kind and love able as his meth-head & junky cousins speedy and slow poke. All seemed hopeless. I felt like I was part of the scattered rebel fleet. Searching for a new home and trying to squelch the bitch like sobbing of Luke Skywalker (who in reality was me). And then came the North Star Cafe. This new home has provided a beautiful venue, some extremely gracious hosts, and some of the best damn poetry I've seen in Portland in a long time. To add to it all I have been berated by poets travelling to the Northeast in search of venues. This summers lineup includes some fantastic talent travelling far and wide to join us in our new home. From the Athens Boys Choir we have Harvey Katz. From New York City we have poet & slammer Marc Marcel. With a recent cancellation in April we have rescheduled the Boston Intercollegiate Team: 200 Proof who will be featuring alongside the poets of Moon Pie Press, now that's eclectic. We'll be bringing in old favorites like Nate Graziano & Ed Carvalho. Let's not forget one of our all time favorites Jack McCarthy. The North Star Cafe is also going to host one of the many events that comprise the 2007 Maine Reads Festival of the Book. Our portion of the festival will include poets from the 2007 Poetry Out Loud competition and a very special New England Invitational Slam. We're also going to be added to regular gigs to our schedule. The last Tuesday goes to our friends at Moon Pie Press and the first Tuesday will return to Jazz Spoken Word night hosted by our friends from the Highball Jazz Trio.

So as you can see it's going to be a very busy and generally kick as summer of poetry. Thus the title of the blog. If you have anyone that you'd like to see at our venue or if you have questions about any of the events please let me know. Also, please let us know what you think on our blog and make sure you subscribe to our newsletter.

Welcome Comments and Posts

noreply@blogger.com (Port Veritas) — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 03:28:00 +0000

I had to ask myself. What the hell do we need a blog for. We have a Myspace page. We have a website. We send out the newsletter...and most importanly nobody ever reads that crap anyway. Well I guess here is what I've come up with....I'm bored. But that's not it. We also needed a place where people could share information that isn't seen, read and muddled up by millions of freaks, geeks and weirdos. Am I talking about Myspace?? Of course I am. So here is what I propose. If you want to post...if you have something to say or comment on and it has nothing to do with how to win your fortune by forwarding an email about how much you love puppies....here's your new fucking home.

Port Veritas

noreply@blogger.com (Port Veritas) — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 02:44:00 +0000

This isn't where the blog would be if it wasn't where it is...