Spoken Word New York... the word is out.

The only English-language open mic in New York City.

Poètes, écrivains, chanteurs—everyone gets five minutes to perform their chosen medium to a drunk and receptive audience. Based on the popular novel Spoken Word in Paris, curated by the inimitable brigands David Barnes and Alberto Rigettini.

Spoken Word New York

(Text by Patrick)

SPOKEN WORD 20/06/2011 Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday...

Sepideh Soltaninia opened with her poem: “Alexandra”:
“This is the history century old bridges tell of a country who hides its bruises in reserves and downtown cores. Whose bridges serve as bars with 8 am calls, so next time my feet grace the surface of your new skin, show me sunsets and snowfalls, and I beg you, tell me nothing of my history.”

In this competition for the most mesmerizing name, the second contestant is Ifeany Awachi. Julian Field explained why “with an erection you can have a baby, but it’s better not to have an erection with a baby” introducing his new one man show:“My Personal Waterloo”, watch the teaser.
A ukulele new trio made up by Trelys, Marie and Ella, rocks the house with a ukulele classic: “Has anybody seen my girl?” A cynical girl, Lynne and a Bad Boy, John: “I want to be a sinner, but nobody takes me seriously.” A family girl, Hannah: “I’m not a mother or a wife, but I’m a sister and a daughter and an au pair for four french children and that means I know enough to write a poem.” A poem called “Four”.To forget Zach, Esmeralda launched her solo career “I’m allergic to you…” Trelys closed part one with a song called “Aloha”. “Aloha” in hawaiian means goodbye, hello, I love you, you’re cool: Hal, Adele, Zach, Ben, Lucy, Patrick.
Yes, our featured mispelled Weiner was Patrick Hipp, explicit, romantic and hot-hearted into the Gates Of Hell (I’m talking about Rodin’s museum).

Sam “after vomiting”, Mandoline in “morning conversation”, Emilie “run away” (from Louisiana), Harvey with a bilingual rap for his students in Jersey City, Marie and Antoine warming up for la Fete de la Musique, Alberto’s tango: “While I was killing you, I was telling you I love you.” Troy: “We prepare for a feast, what smelling feet we have sometimes”, The Maxx, LA Elen Cellier from French to English and back, Tyler: “So shame on you for dying, shame on me for everything else…” KellyJoy, Hannah and the unsugarable unforgettable Jenny Z’s: “Cum Farths”. Then our featured mispelled booner Patrick had his final act. The whole house singing along one more time (and probably even the day after):
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, someday soon.”

But on the 16th refrain of “Please don’t go”, somebody said: “I’m going.”

SPOKENWORD 13-6-2011 The goodbyes begin... the ghosts arrive

by David.
Photos by Adele.
Zach & Esmerelda
Nearly the end of the season. Though SpokenWord will continue through the summer, so many new friends who will be gone soon.
Sam brought roses, rewriting the script, raving & ranting, red petalled. Maxime was off to Lebanon, leaving a trail of coffee cups and laughs. Marie went to the wire with a Prince cover. Dheeraj still remembers how you gave him 3 toffees on your birthday when it was just one for everyone else: "Hate is an ugly business for a 9 year old."

Adele's ghost, without a smile, was no ghost at all. But Trelys says "Though they may be deaf to the key you're singing in, sing to them anyway." Julien tried to buy 30 squid of kunk, in Camden, from a guy's underwear.

Emmanuelle & Suzanne
Emmanuelle & Suzanne told what can happen when you study too much political sociology. "Encore un ejaculateur precoce!" Georgina fell asleep when she should pray. James got lost in a forest, walking with you under a bruised sky. Alberto too was in sombre mood - thinking of his body darkening and growing cold, of how his wriggling dick - that has till now been his ship's rudder - will be flacid in death. Patrick left the stage - and the bar - with the audience still singing his song. A reversal of the usual situation. Troy's God burped back the light and disappeared. Hal woke up to the city lights in his room, while Diana V offered a beer to a ghost - though not Adele's ghost.
Taylor and Danielle brought us a Vagina Monologue. John clouded up his life. But Antoine wrote facing terror, like the line in Howl about cowering in underwear in unshaven rooms to listen to the terror through the wall... Seiphi's poem about the capital of Bangladesh had maps of the city etched on the barefeet of children. Chris's writing ghosts (What is it with all these ghosts this week?) came to torment him, or at least mildly annoy him & advocate buying shares in Mongolian goats. I'm not sure I can read my handwriting here but I think that's what they did.

Patrick, Chris & Hal
Finally Tyler doesn't love us, but he likes us. He was lost in a cubicle maze, calling us on a bad connection. And Ashley organised a multi-author blind poem (Exiquisite Corpse?) to mark the week many of us are leaving FOREVER. Ok, not forever, hopefully you'll still come back and visit. And we'll always have facebook. "If I could climb you," she read, "I'd tie your tired lashes together so we had a place to be."

That's all folks!