People look at me funny when I tell them that most of my inspiration for writing/ performing comes from comedians. And really, I dont see how Comedy could be considered anything else. I find it mind boggling how people consider one to be better than the other. I feel like theres no greater example of performance poetry than comedy. I dont know any poets with #RichardPryors persona power (see: Mudbone/ Bicentennial Nigger/ Super Nigger). Half the time hes barely in character because he doesnt have to be. The things he says reaches you in a way that performance cant. I dont know any poets with the ability to write erasure poems like #EllenDegeneres writes jokes without cursing. Its not that she deserves any extra credit for not using swear words, its that she uses the absence of swear words to enhance her already funny jokes. I dont know any political poem that could share the stage with any of #GeorgeCarlins work because no one can keep an audience interested long enough to cover as much as much ground as George Carlins work does. Again I love performance poetry. Ive spent 10+ years doing it. Its kinda my life at this point. But that doesnt mean it has to be the same shit over and over and over again. It doesnt have to be this monotonous cycle of trauma and melancholy and racism and negativity we sometimes allow it to become. And even if the world needs that. Even if the world needs to see itself for what it is- how do you expect people to WANT to PAY to come see YOU perform if all theyre getting in return is pain and trauma and melancholy and racism and negativity? is there another way to do it? Can you figure out a way to inform people of whats going on around them without torturing them with it? Take this video by #RobinWilliams for instance. He draws you in. He doesnt give you any context. He forces you to be in this reality and all that audience can do is listen. HARD. That audience laughs HARD and stops QUICK so they can catch whatever hes about to say next. And before you know it, you know everything about this silly man who feeds the birds. You know he used to have a career making people happy. YOU KNOW ABOUT HIS ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION. And all the sudden you see him say youre only given a little spark of madness. There are roughly 36 years inbetween this moment and the one youre watching on youtube and somehow youre a part of the audience. Its hard to tell whether youre sitting next to the stage, or if theyre sitting next to your computer, but youre all in the same room now. And its quiet. Like quiet isnt the word. Like silent was never enough to capture this deliberate cease of sound. And if you lose that, youre nothing. And no one laughs. No one laughs because its too important to miss. For that millisecond you can see Robin Williams peeking through that weird, ratty pigeon man coat hes wearing and without warning, you realize you are deeply invested in this old homeless man hes playing. You wonder if this is what youve been missing by refusing to speak with all those silhouettes you ignore on your way to work. You wonder if youve lost it. If youve lost all the spark you had left. Because youve got to fly above it all- Remember angels, they have wings because they take themselves lightly And you chuckle. And the audience does too. And all at once the room realizes they still have it. That spark. They realize how precious this madness really is.
Posted on: Mon, 01 Sep 2014 20:09:41 +0000
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