‘Bring us your worst . . . ’

The ‘Anti-Slam’ poets wax erotic
By JACQUELINE HOUTON  |  August 22, 2007
INSIDE2007.08.12_001[1]
BAD POETRY: And bawdy poets.

Early arrivals for Truth Serum Productions’ “Anti-Slam: Bad Poetry Slam” on August 12 filtered into the Milky Way Lounge just as stragglers from the JP hot spot’s prior event — a wedding — were exiting. Smiling guests in semi-formal wear carted away bridal spoils in beribboned boxes, making way for a crew of “slammers from the music, arts, and drag scenes,” as well as open-mic volunteers who’d been invited to bring “your worst poems . . . your most embarrassing childhood diary entries, your most annoying spoken-word pieces.” Event organizer Aliza Shapiro broke the ice with some bawdy lines from James Joyce, and then Johnny Blazes, promising that “not a seat in this house will be dry” after her act, recited a burlesque ballad while feigning fits of forgetfulness. Using her physique as a crib sheet, she removed elbow-length gloves and a taffeta gown to reveal strategically placed words at key moments of her poem, losing a pastie in the process — it was a very humid evening. Poetaster Mike also employed a prop, lugging a typewriter on stage to put the finishing touches on his epic pastoral about an enchanted wood. Interweaving words like “bountiful” and “effulgent” with Tourette’s-inspired obscenities, he proclaimed, “The forest is making me hard!” His cute furry fauna proved too much for him, and Mike brought his creation to a climax with high-pitched keening — part orgasm, part death knell — before swooning onto the stage.

Trucking in from Austin were the Cumbaya Slam Team — a trio who finished dead last at the Slam Nationals last year. While her compatriots provided interpretive dance accompaniment, one member offered an ode to “my vagina, my friend,” which, she claimed, remains “wise as Buddha” even after being “invaded by dirty anaconda cocks.”

Perhaps the most transfixing train wreck was the first movement of Chris Braiotta’s four-part opus “German director Werner Herzog Is a Birthing Coach.” In a deadpan impersonation of the auteur, Braiotta (an occasional Phoenix contributor) offered his client encouragement while musing on “the tiny, writhing ham” about to burst from her loins, “wrinkled and deformed like a corrupted melon.” As Braiotta’s booming baritone claimed dibs on the afterbirth, I couldn’t help thinking of the newlyweds who’d shared this spot hours before.

Related: Gross point blank, Superbad: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, Are you Superbad?, More more >
  Topics: Live Reviews , Culture and Lifestyle, Media, Poetry,  More more >
| More


Most Popular
ARTICLES BY JACQUELINE HOUTON
Share this entry with Delicious
  •   STYLE BUZZ IN BRIEF  |  March 06, 2013
    When the ICA hosted Shepard Fairey's first-ever museum survey in 2009, Boston rolled out the welcome mat — and then promptly pulled it out from under him: the BPD arrested Fairey for outstanding graffiti warrants on his way to the opening.
  •   VISIONARY TECH: ADLENS EYEWEAR  |  March 06, 2013
    The round glasses worn by John Lennon and legions of hippies may soon be more than throwback fashion statements, if British eyewear brand Adlens has its way.
  •   MASS APPEAL: UNITED SCENTS OF AMERICA  |  February 13, 2013
    We're relieved to report that Sasha Bertran and Samantha Sherwin, the minds (and noses) behind United Scents of America, eschewed eau de dirty water when concocting their brand-new fragrance, Massachusetts.
  •   DREAMY DÉCOR: ''DREAM HOUSE'' CLOSING PARTY  |  February 13, 2013
    In the art world, "commercial" and "decorative" often seem like dirty words. Molly Rosner embraces them.
  •   PIRATE ISO ROBOT FOR LTR  |  January 15, 2013
    There are lots of good reasons to hit up the Westin this weekend for New England's biggest science-fiction and fantasy convention.

 See all articles by: JACQUELINE HOUTON