Tonite I was at a bar in NYC to film a friend's show. I arrived earlier
than expected, and there was a "poetry reading" wrapping up. Since, I'm
starting to appreciate and enjoy "live" performance s, I figured I'd get
a drink, sit back and suck up the atmosphere.

The room was packed with eager Poet Lovers! Wall to wall with people of
all persuasions. Ppl even standing, and flowing out into the corridor.
This is gonna be great!

Scruffy poet #1 stands up to read. Young guy, scruffy. He is a little
shy, a little timid. He reads haltingly from his papers. One line, two
lines, three lines. End. He waits for applause. Then he begins another
masterpiece: eight lines of meaningless drivel. He explains himself,
"...I wrote that last night when, i was, like, really wasted. it says
alot i think". Sure. EE Cummings would be proud.

Ok, maybe just a newbie. The next scruffy guy stands up to read his
stuff. He announces that he's started his own publishing company, and
even produces his own "books", that you can buy after the show. He holds
one up for all of us to envy - stapled laser-printed pages. He reads his
poetry. Sigh. I think he is the room-mate of Scruffy. They're on the
same wavelength.

This guys wraps up. Another, another, another. I need another beer. How
much longer? Do I have enough money to outlast the drivel-assault?

Dont get me wrong - I'm no poetry snob. I appreciate good writing by
anyone, of any sort, and will readily admit I'm not a poetry-fan. But, I
know good form when I hear it. I know something meaningful and
purposeful, even if its abstract or opaque. None was to be found tonite!
Just a room full of friends-of-friends who would dare not say that their
friend sucks because that friend would have to say that they suck... its
an incestuous insecurity game.

The Reading was to last until 10pm. It went to 10:30, 11:00 - what the
h3ll?? It made no attempt to wrap up. My friend's show was now 90
minutes late - and they were getting ansy. Eventually the bar's
management came over and told the Poetry folks to wrap up. So they
stopped yapping at the mics, and stood round socializing. Honestly, most
were wasted on ecstacy or similar - most were dopey and hazy eyed. In a
few minutes the Mgmnt told them that they actually had to "vacate the
room so that the next show could set up". And then they got pissed, and
started belly-aching, whinning that they had to "leave their spots", and
so-on.

They stormed out with sour faces.

Ah, the Angry Poet Society. Welcome to New York.

...hmmm no replies. must be alot of "angrier poets" here on jsh..

Sorry Mike didn't see this until now..haven't been around much
today...yeah I've come across people like that when going to a poetry
reading...kinda irks me

wellllllllllllllllllll
I'm an angry poet , well sometimes i'm a happy poet too , then some
days I'm a tired poet while others just a busy poet ,,and so on ,,,

an those folks sound like a bunch of weirdos ,
cant let one clump of sour grapes rot the whole vine !

So, this isnt the "normal" way poetry readings are done?