These are the facts. Until last night I had never performed spoken word poetry. Until last night I had never seen Buddy Wakefield or Derrick Brown in person. Until last night I had only ever recited the words to <em>epilogue</em> to close friends and to the walls in my bedroom.
Quick history lesson. A few years back I came to a realization that I had never written any of my poetry to be performed and I had never really heard any of my poems spoken aloud by myself or anyone else.
Around this time, I acquired a copy of Sage Francis’ album <em>Human the Death Dance</em> which featured poetry excerpts by Buddy Wakefield. I was thus introduced to a level of spoken word that consequently changed my perspective of my own words and in many ways, for lack of a better phrase, changed my life.
The first time I watched videos of Buddy performing <em>Pretend</em> and <em>The Information Man</em>, I was completely and utterly moved, in awe, and struck silent by a sequence of words and a man with enough energized emotion to drive these words inward. I was compelled to write. More. Better. Bigger. And I did, sort of.
In no way do I think I have reached my potential, nor do I think I could ever compare to someone as eloquent as Wakefield, but I began to write these grand pieces. Poems that I would then record myself reading and I began to feel something in words that I had never felt before.
So when I found out that Derrick Brown, founder of Write Bloody Publishing and also a spoken word poet, was hosting a show in Long Beach featuring Wakefield, I had to go.
The show is called <em>The Lightbulb Mouth Radio Hour</em> and every Wednesday night it features one author, one informationist, and one musician.
So I panned a selection of my friends to see who was available on a random Wednesday in January to travel down to Long Beach. Thankfully Dolly showed much excitement about accompanying me to the event even though she had not much knowledge of anyone who would be there.
What I did not realize was that after the show Brown hosts a six-person poetry slam. So upon arrival at The Basement in Long Beach I was asked if I wanted to partake in said poetry slam. After a moment of hesitation I was first on the list.
This is where I must reiterate that minus the best man speech I gave at my cousin’s wedding I have never performed spoken word prior to this moment. I have never stood in front of a crowd with a microphone and shared a poem. Ever. And so two things occurred to me when I put my name on this list -- I would finally be doing the thing I had yet to do and I would be doing it in the presence of someone I greatly admire.
You know what they say, go big or go home. Or go insane with nerves and anxiety.
Luckily I kept my composure.
I sat at the bar prior to the show with three sheets of paper that Dolly provided me and I scratched out the words to <em>Epilogue</em>, just to make sure that I had in fact fully memorized them.
I watched Brown and Wakefield as they conversed with people around the room, watched them laugh and share stories, watched them socialize and I didn’t know what to say or do. I really wanted to tell each of them how much I admire their work. But I didn’t want to come off as creepy or silly or stalker-esque. If I was going to say anything I needed to play it cool. Typing that sentence proves how uncool I am.
The show begins with Brown and his keyboard-stroking sidekick Mindy Nettifee as they hash out the shows opening sing-a-long and a few current event themed jokes. Then Brown introduced Ray Barbee who played a song on his electric guitar before sitting down with Brown to discuss his adventures in skateboarding and his musical stylings. The interview began with a hilarious game of identify the skateboard move, which included a Twenty Twenty with Barbara Walters, a Madonna and a Sean Penn.
Next up was informationist, fertility specialist Wendie Wilson, who discussed her work helping infertile couples find egg donors. Some very interesting points were made about genetic testing and the egg donating process and some insightfully funny quips were made by Brown.
And then there was Buddy.
It is abundantly apparent that Brown and Wakefield could probably fill an entire hour and then-some together and keep the audience entertained.
Buddy performed two poems, <em>Crowbirds and Mockingbars</em> followed by <em>Bedrooms & Battle Scars</em>. He then interviewed with Brown about his ridiculous touring schedule, how it takes him months to structure a poem precisely, and how he’s training for a triathlon; for which he trains every morning by doing two of the three exercises; run, bike or swim.
He then performed <em>Information Man</em> with the accompaniment of Ray Barbee who he admitted to admiring greatly. Saying that for him being in the same room with Barbee was the equivalent of growing up as a fan of the WWF (turned WWE) and later sharing the same stage with Hulk Hogan as he tore his shirt off.
The show broke from there and came back with another number by Barbee and then Buddy kicked off the slam with <em>Gandhi’s Autobiography</em>. The three audience judges voted. And then they called me up to the stage and I performed <em>Epilogue</em>.
Five other poets went after me, and unfortunately I do not have much of their information. The poet that won the slam, Rich Ferguson, got a much deserved can of champagne that came with it’s own straw! His poem had a lot of sick lines in it, none of which I can remember at the moment.
I was too high on life to even care about winning the slam.
When I stood at the mic, I looked up and saw Buddy sitting in the back of the room, and I knew that the first line of my poem was on the tip of my tongue, <em>people still ask me about you as if you were a standard operating procedure</em>, and it came naturally, the entire poem did, but there was so much I wanted to say before I began. Like, thank you Derrick, thanks for this night, thanks for the show, thanks for sharing all of this.
Or something like, Buddy, you are my Hulk Hogan.
What I really wanted to say was I grew up watching the WWF and that Buddy was in fact much more like Hulk Hogan to me than the Hulk himself, and I wanted to instruct the audience to visualize a cage match, to visualize at the start of my poem, the Ultimate Warrior standing atop the cage like he did during a Summer Slam event in the mid-nineties, and that at the delivery of my first line the Ultimate Warrior jumps and begins a slow motion free-fall, and that at the moment my poem ends, at the exact second I deliver the last word of the last line, that the Ultimate Warrior completes his freef-all and body slams me.
But I did not say any of that. I just took a deep breath, accepted the moment and performed <em>Epilogue</em> to the best of my ability. Sure, it probably could have been better, but it was perfect in the moment. For me it was such a giant moon-walk of a step. It was a leap. And by the end of the night it became more of an affirmation.
Many people congratulated me. Thanked me. Told me they appreciated the poem. And even Derrick and Buddy had some kind words. In the end I don’t think even I fully comprehend the grand scheme of what last night meant to me. What I do know is that it was a much needed moment and I can not believe I finally performed spoken word and that I had the balls do it in front of two masters of the craft.
On the off-given chance that either Derrick or Buddy reads this, thank you. For everything.
lightbulb mouth: <a href="http://lightbulbmouth.com">http://lightbulbmouth.com</a>
derrick brown: <a href="http://brownpoetry.com">http://brownpoetry.com</a>
buddy wakefield: <a href="http://buddywakefield.com">http://buddywakefield.com</a>
write bloody: <a href="http://writebloody.com">http://writebloody.com</a>