The Power of the Spoken Word

While I've always enjoyed poetry, I have rarely, in the past, gone out to hear the stuff read. I've found that most poets who are reading out are stuffy, pretentious and have little to say ("summers at the lake were so horrible"- boo hoo). Backroom words is quite the opposite.

The poets who gather at The Go Lounge on Tuesday evenings around nine or so, although varied, come from another breed. There's no way to summarize all the poets - you'll hear from cowboy hat-wearing republicans, shaved-headed, far left radicals, pixies from across the sea and surfers from down the street. What unites these people is that everyone cares about what they're saying. Some aspire to write professionally (and many are obviously well schooled) while others are working out their problems. These people share a passion, and it comes out in the poetry.

It's not, of course, all serious. I find myself laughing quite a bit, often big belly laughs. Some people have a knack for pointing out the absurd while others are absurd themselves. The satire sheds more light than the nightly news and makes more caustic digs than The Simpsons. He he. Other poets stir the blood with talk of revolutions and taking action - people who aren't afraid to tell it how it is (or at least how they see it). You can't avoid seeing the fire in these individuals, or feeding off their energy. Sometimes poets can be a moody, lethargic bunch (it's not just a rumor), but at other times they can be rousing and inspiring.

There's also a camaraderie that develops between the reader and the listener. I find myself drawn, if for no other reason, to hear the latest goings on in the lives of people I otherwise don't even know. Has "that bitch" come around again? Has Amy satisfied her infatuation? And what's the deal with Neil? Rarely are the stories boring.
Patrick Scott Barnes (the host) - with help from Elton and the gang at The Go Lounge - has created a weekly event that's more like a friendly gathering than your typical poetry reading.

J.D. Ashcraft
Born in 1880 to a coal miner and an alligator wrestler, I came to Orlando after the great depression to take part in the new media revolution that was television. Now, some 50 years later, I am still active in new media via The Slant. Der wiesel ist in der flub!.