Poetry through the smoke

As the sun set on the Ped Mall on the 1st of May a small group of people gathered in the Tobacco Bowl to take part in a poetry slam being hosted by the Concrete Muse Poet Society. The event, which was scheduled to kick off at 7 P.M., kicked off a few minutes early as the host of the event started by grabbing the mic of the small PA plugged in at the front of the shop and began the slam. Her poems incorporated strong visual images with repetition to deliver her lines of "Cat pee on the floor, cat pee on the floor." The crown was fluctuating in and out the doors as the performances continued, some for the poetry, most for business. The second performer grabbed the mic and began to slam on more conventional themes found at a slam. He read on injustice, corporatism, capitalism, and the evils of a media controlled populous. He delivered his message with much gusto and was quite convincing in his tone. The third performer was a well recognized face in the Iowa City, most would know her as the lady that walks the downtown selling hemp bracelets and homemade crafts. She pulled out her loaded notebook and began flipping through her selections. Her poems were quick and numerous, a short applause crackled after each selection. The fourth performer took a different approach to the event. Being pulled off the street to and coaxed into reading, he read a longer selection from Edgar Allen Poe. He read at an accelerated pace which offered a different perspective on the classic “The Raven.” The readings continued to cycle through the select few poets in attendance. As new performers continued to show up they were added to the list. Local promoter Tyrell Spitt made an appearance after his hip-hop show in the Ped Mall and revitalized the crowd. The place erupted with applause after he began spitting his slams. This was the pinnacle of the event. People began coming in from outside to listen to his methodically lyrical verse. Tyrell won the only prize of the night, a journal for scribing resistance art. As the sun began to wane, bodies started filling up the previously empty chairs. The performers represented a wide demographic of backgrounds and ages.


The host of the performance announced that this would be a weekly event on Friday from 7-9PM at the Tobacco Bowl. The event was not technically structured like an actual poetry slam, it was more of an open mic reading. The audience was responsive after each poet read, sometimes only for the sake of being courteous however, and poets were not eliminated. This was probably due to the lack of participants, but considering this was the first event of its kind hopefully the word will spread and more people will be open to participation. As the evening wound to a close the crowd began to disperse back into the twilight of the bustling streets, people left in high spirits.

By: Spencer Poulos

Don't Slam Big Poppa E

Terrified of what a “Slam Poetry” reading could bring, I bribed my urbanite Chicagoan friend with a cup of coffee in to tagging along. Although, it turned out to be less of talking her into it, rather her convincing me that it was going to be really cool and that she loved slam poetry. Who knew?

As we walked up to Old Brick, the air was filled with a sweet aroma of maple syrup and sweet pastries, only to find out that Big Poppa E was not serving pancakes, rather it was a fundraiser and Big Poppa E was not at Old Brick, rather the daunting lecture hall of MacBride Auditorium, so our adventure continued. Walking into MacBride brought back memories of freshman year science class as well as a complete shock. Expecting the auditorium to be packed with poetry gurus, I found a few college students sitting, a few running around frantically untangling cords and dragging massive speakers, and then a number of students sitting at tables with numerous signs and brochures. Then I saw Big Poppa E himself, recognizing his distinct style from his website and his unique voice uncovering the details of the student tables.

After watching Big Poppa E, rather than listening to him, for 20 minutes as he conversed with students and pounded a Rockstar energy drink, he finally got up on stage. He let us know that he too was a little bummed out with the turnout, but he was determined to have enough of us to do the wave. Although, I thought this might be fun, it was small enough that it almost seemed conversational. I had expected a packed house and after running across campus expecting a packed house it was nice to sit and observe, rather than be jammed in a corner of a packed lecture hall. He started to point out people in the audience giving them names, while the microphones were being adjusted. Naming kids, Red for her hair, Green for his shirt, Bandaid for his ridiculously cut arms, and finally Phish for his hair, he finally was given a mic. Big Poppa E introduced J[amnesty], and then informed the audience that he had to pee, but first would pick us out a crucial playlist for the two minutes he would be gone. At this point, my friend had become extremely irritated and hollered out asking exactly how long was the restroom break going to take him. Big Poppa E found this his first opportunity to start his “Slam” poetry. He named my friend “Angry girl” and then went in to how she was going to be referred to as his ex-girlfriend for the rest of the show. After he went off on his tangent, he finally picked his playlist and then was off to the bathroom, only then to inform us that he did not know where the bathroom was, and was a bit terrified to ask for directions, for fear that “Angry girl” might come after him. Once Big Poppa E took care of business and returned to the stage, he was overwhelmingly entertaining. This poetry reading was definitely worth the wait.

Ashley Baldinelli