If an Individual Thought Could Sing...

Saturday, February 13th, 2012, I trekked through the Byward Market to The Mercury Lounge for the Ottawa Capital Poetry Slam. As I enter the building, two staircases lead me up to the lounge. The walls are drenched with multi-coloured murals of unique objects, stars, and obscure people. When I reach the booth to pay my eight dollars, I am told that the night is almost sold-out – until now I had no clue how hype the evening was.

 

There are no seats available, although there were only a few to begin with. I perch on the balcony of a staircase that leads to the upper seating level – a perfect view of the stage. As the DJ stands comfortably behind his turntables, playing hip-hop that has the crowd excited and dancing with one another, a hand grabs the microphone and the crowd goes silent.

 

Brad Morden is the MC for the evening. As he introduces the schedule he reminds us of a ritual performed before a poet slams. After the poet is called to stage, we (the audience) raise a fist to our ear and on the count of three pump it in the air, extending our fingers, yelling, “raise it!”

 

Open mic performers and competitors of the actual slam give breath-taking performances, with an unbelievably unconventional performance by World Slam champion Ian Keteku, who performs one poem while standing on his head. 

  

 The emotion roaring through the microphone for three consecutive hours moved many of us (myself included) to tears, and touched on very relevant social, racial, and ethical issues. Conformity, stereotypes, love and pain are topics that commonly get used, but never get performed in a repetitive way. Each poet introduces their poem in a fresh way by an amazing use of vocabulary, rhythm, and most importantly, a unique deliverance. 

 

Tonight is a competition, “Full contact poetry” as Brad puts it. To make the judging fare, the five judges were picked at random from the audience and given a white board on which to record the numeric value the performance had to them. Brad reminds us after reading the scores aloud to “Applaud the poet, not the points”, keeping some of the heat off the judges.

 

The energy trapped in this cozy venue is bulletproof – we feed off the excitement, nerves and courage of unraveling emotions, and are motivated to be completely honest with ourselves as a result.