10 Books that Stayed With Me

This list is bogus.
Choosing Ten Books that had an impact on me is hard, as many books impacted me in different ways. In many ways, this is a stupid internet meme, sort of like Rick Rolling for intellectuals. As such, there is an element of randomness to these books. The criteria for this project are highly subjective, and I will do my best to explain why these books were chosen.

1. The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Beverly Clearly
The Mouse and the Motorcycle   I’m not sure if I ever really read The Mouse and the Motorcycle, but I absorbed the stop-motion film versions as a child. Ralph was, and I guess to some extent still is, my first and strongest imaginary friend, and would become the focus for my own fantasy world of Mythania, a sort of cross between The Chronicles of Narnia/The Neverending Story/Digimon, the first two of which I could have placed on this list, but Ralph was the first fixture of my fantasy world.

2. The Marvellous Land of Oz, L. Frank Baum
The Marvelous Land of Oz       The Oz books were also a recurring interest of mine, and Mythania had some Oz correspondences. I choose this one because it was probably the book that got me really kicked on the Oz books. It was the second of the Oz books, and had nothing. On another note, the book has one of the earliest transsexual characters in fiction, Tip/Princess Ozma, who was born a woman but was turned into a boy by an evil witch to prevent her from becoming Ruler of Oz. The full extent of this is not completely understood at this time, but I’ll keep you posted.

3. Dune, Frank Herbert

Dune   This is when we get into the books that really got me. I many ways, Dune is a gateway drug into the world that would await me. It has strange religious philosophies with esoteric practices and environmentalism, all tied up in an adventure story about a young man trying to get revenge on the people who killed his father, and becoming Emperor of a gigantic interstellar Empire. The entire Dune books became a focus for me, becoming part of the Second Version of Mythania, a more streamlined world inhabited by supermen and Tolkeinian world building. I’m pretty sure that Dune still affects me more than I know.

4. The Invisibles, Grant Morrison
The Invisibles Grant Morrison
Supercool Occult Anarchist Freedom Fighters The Invisibles fight against totalitarian intelligence from beyond space and time, the Outer Church. Featuring time travel, the Marquis de Sade, Psychedelics, Paranoia, Shamanic Drag Queens, A Satellite In Orbit of Earth That Loves You, Aliens, Secret Military Bases, Subcultures, Occultism and the 2012 Phenomena.
I read this in high school when I was young and impressionable. This should explain a lot about my life.
Of all the books I list here, the Invisibles is the closest thing that comes to a Bible, a myth that has become the focus of my life. Even now, when I look at it and see the weaknesses, that Grant Morrison can be too self-consciously hip, that the characters are two-dimensional and that his writing of minority characters has some serious problems, it is still the book that has gotten the most under my skin. I can’t imagine myself without The Invisibles. One day, I will probably rewrite this, with better characterisation, especially for the minority characters. (the concept of a rapper who practices voodoo was horribly misused. Grant Morrison’s knowledge of black people comes exclusively from MTV, and his knowledge of voodoo seems to come mostly from Michael Bertiaux’s Voudon Gnostic Workbook.) Essentially, I want to write a combination of The Invisibles and The Wire, but that’s another time.

5. Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison
165px-Invisible_Man    I used to hate “people stories.” This would generally be anything on the side of general realism or naturalism. Invisible Man was one of the first books I willingly read that I count as “people stories.” I would argue that Invisible Man is the greatest American novel of the 20th Century.
This was a book that made me realize things outside me, namely what it is like being African-American. I knew on some level that being black wasn’t the greatest, I knew about racism, I’d seen the very special Saturday morning shows. Invisible Man gave me a window about what being African-American was like, and what I saw was an absurd, nightmarish reality where a man’s voice and desires are undermined by the very nature of society. The techniques of control are everywhere, from the racist old men who force the Invisible Man to a boxing match for their entertainment just so he can give a speech, only to gently remind him that, naturally, blacks and whites cannot be equal when he brings it up, to the education system that ties him into the power structure. Even the people who are nominally on the side of equality, the Brotherhood, are merely using the Invisible Man for his ability to make speeches. Throughout the novel, we are met with beautiful prose, a wide panorama of characters, and a simply stunning work of art.

6. Mumbo Jumbo, Ishmael Reed
Mumbo_jumbo   This was a tricky one. Reading Mumbo Jumbo was a deeply comfortable experience. While Invisible Man helped me understand what it is like being an African-American, Mumbo Jumbo helped me realize just how angry African-Americans can be. While I understand that Ishmael Reed, in particular, is a very angry man,  this was probably one of the biggest shocks I have ever encountered as a reader.
Mumbo Jumbo, probably the first occult conspiracy novel (predating Robert Anton Wilson’s Illuminatus Trilogy and Grant Morrison’s The Invisibles) takes place in the 1920s when the white establishment was terrified of the black virus known as Jazz that was infecting the population. Papa LaBass is a voodoo priest in New York, who with his partner Black Herman (who was a real person) fights against the Wallflower Order, a secret conspiracy dedicated to Monotheism, European Culture, and not dancing. This is a very Afrocentric book. There are no sympathetic white characters, it is violently against the institutions of white culture, and even goes far to retell the Bible, the central text of Western culture, to turn Moses into a charlatan. As a young, white, monotheist this book fucked me up good.
Unlike most books on this list, this hangs on me like a ghost. It’s like I’m always followed by the ghost of a black man who occasionally comes up to me and says “You are guilty. Even though you yourself did nothing, you are guilty by being a complacent part.” Recently, I have come to understand and accept this. I feel it’s time for me to reread this, and see what I can bring back from it now.

7. Cities of the Red Night, William S. Burroughs
CitiesRedNight    Generally, I favour writers as compared to independent books, so in some cases a book on this will represent a writer. With William S. Burrough’s, it’s hard because his books are a sort of odd continuum of William S. Burrough’s strange psychic journey on the underbelly of America, and like it or not, we do live in America’s world. Thankfully, we have William S. Burroughs to remind us that America is a horrible, ugly place, filled with horrible, evil people, who would see you dead if it meant a quick fix. I love you Uncle Bill.
My personal favorite William S. Burroughs is the work known as The Last Trilogy, consisting of Cities of the Red Night, The Place of Dead Roads and The Western Lands. They feel like they have stories, unlike Naked Lunch which is largely the meandering drug ramblings of an American expatriate in Tangiers. The Last Trilogy is Burroughs as sorcerer, which is the Burroughs who stuck with me. Also, it dosen’t hurt that this has the illusion of a plot, which is more than I can say for Naked Lunch. Technically, Cities of the Red Night has like four, there is a plague of a sexually transmitted disease (before AIDS was a thing mind), tales of a Pirate Utopia, an investigation featuring Private Asshole Clem Snide, and stories of a pilgrimage to seven cities that will end in immortality.
I am proud to consider William S. Burroughs a literary ancestor, and it pains me that while we were both alive at the same time, I could never know him. I was eight when he died in 1997, and I would not even know who he was until I was in high school, which is always a good time to discover Burroughs. He was the outsider, the person who just didn’t fit into society, and as someone with autism I knew how he felt. In my final yearbook, in the section were you give an inspiring quote, my choice was one by William S. Burroughs. “I know I’m some kind of interplanetary agent but I don’t think my signals are decoding properly.” Burroughs taught me to stay strong even in the face of a world that seems, and in some cases is, malevolently against you.

8. The Savage Detectives, Roberto Bolano
200px-LosDetectivesSalvajes    So I read On the Road in high school. It was alright, I can’t fault Kerouac’s use of language, but it didn’t really get to me. I didn’t become an instant Kerouac devotee, as an author I struggle with him which is probably one of the greatest complements you can give an author in my opinion. I still kind of think of Kerouac as a really messed up Catholic with alcoholism, a fear of women, an embarrassing romanticism about black people, and someone who bought into the toxic myth of the American dream, a mass delusion I would personally like to see die slowly in a fire. So yeah, I was never really that into the whole Kerouac thing, the whole guys going on a road trip to find themselves was not the story I latched onto.
For me, the story of bohemian poets mad to live did not come from Kerouac’s 50’s Americana, but from  an exiled Chilean punk kid from Mexico. Maybe it’s something to do with my generation. When Kerouac was a novelist for baby bombers, it was a time to expand, to write ecstatic prose about road trips. I’m a Millennial, economically I’m watching a shrinking, and the sense of apocalyptic nihilism that pervades my time period is one that also pervades The Savage Detectives.
When reading it, during the early years of my university career, I realized this was a book I would read again. Not in the sense of “I like this book I should read it again,” but that it was a book I had to read again. It starts in the world I was in, the world of a university student with bohemian tendencies, with maybe a foot into some less than savory worlds. It then goes into the lives of the two poets, Arturo Belano and Ulises Lima, as they meander across four continents, lost and directionless, without the romance (or self-delusion) of Kerouac. Unlike Kerouac, Bolano became an adult, kicked his own addictions, and managed to write about it all without Kerouac’s obsessions with sin and sainthood.

9. The Man in the High Castle, Philip K. Dick
200px-The_Man_in_the_High_Castle  If you live in the 20th or 21st century, you need to read Philip K. Dick. If you haven’t, you already live in one. You won’t get out of it once you read Philip K. Dick, but you will at least know that you live in a Philip K. Dick novel, and that’s something.
I had read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep before, but it didn’t click. This book did. It was like nothing else I had ever read. It was a science fiction novel, but it was also, fundamentally a much dreaded people story. It just takes place in an alternate timeline were the Axis won World War Two and the United States was split into two zones run by the Japanese and the Germans respectively.
The thing about Axis victory novels is that you’d expect them to be about politics. You’d expect it to be some Harry Turtledove story about an alternate Cold War, or people leading a resistance against the Nazis and overthrowing them, but that’s not what The Man in the High Castle is about. It’s about antiques dealing. Antiques dealing and the I Ching, and in Japanese occupied San Francisco. That just blew my mind, and made me instantly fall in love with Philip K. Dick.
Another thing I would like to mention here is his book The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, which is a tale of inter planetary war between two drug dealers, one of whom is the Antichrist. This was what really clicked for me, but I’m listing The Man in the High Castle for the gateway factor.

10. Tay John, Howard O’Hagan
Tay JohnTay John is probably not a very well-known book, but it’s one of my favorite books as a Canadian. It combines my love of the epic and mythological with my love of things that are obscure and mysterious. Tay John has the qualities of a mythic origin story, while also being sceptical about them.
I came across Tay John in a Canadian Lit class at University, and it quickly became the novel I was most glad to be forced to read. It was a highly enjoyable story about a the son of an insane preacher and a First Nations woman, who after abandoning his tribe becomes a fur trapper of mythic qualities, based on a historical figure known as Yellowhead, who’s name would become that of the geography of Canada. In some ways, it annoys me that this is the only novel by a Canadian on this list, as it shows a certain cultural colonialism that has become a deep concern of mine, but unfortunately I am only know beginning to examine the literature of my country. This book, however, along with Robertson Davies The Rebel Angels and Marianne Engel’s Bear, has struck me as a powerful work I am proud to have in my national tradition.


Goodbye to Slam

Some of you may be wondering “Dylan, what ever happened to the Ontario International Poetry Slam? That thing you blogged about.” Well, I lost. I didn’t lose miserably, unless you consider coming in fifth to last miserable, but other than that I had a good time. It’s also made me decide that the Poetry Slam just isn’t for me. It’s taken me awhile, but quite frankly I don’t like it that much. I thank it for getting me into poetry, but I honestly think we can do better.

Aside from that, I enjoyed most of the poets, and while I disagree on who got past. I would have voted for other people, but ultimately I feel that the winners deserved what they got. Good luck to everyone, and I hope you enjoy yourselves.

Great Wizard Fights of History: Antichrist Harry Potter vs. Mary Poppins (Warning: NSFW. Or near your children. Also spoilers)

So I’m an Alan Moore fan. I suppose that’s no secret to anyone, as he has shown up in my blog before. When the final volume of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen came out I was not really excited, because the critics have a point and Moore can get up his own ass with this mapping of Fiction-Landhe has started up. Never the less, I like Alan Moore and was going to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe Century works better as a whole. I actually think that this may be the best example of the

But that’s not what I want to talk about. It’s not what you want to hear either. What you want to here is if Antichrist Harry Potter really shoots lightning from his penis.

Why yes. Yes he does.

So there was a lot of controversy, to say the least. I’m not really sure about this entire bit of Alan Moore’s oeuvre. I’m not sure what the point is, besides a general “our time period sucks,” thing, which I’m not really sure it communicates well. Maybe we’re a bit to close to the subject matter to tell, the Victorians would probably be offended by having Allen Quartermain be a washed up junkie, or Mina Murray be in charge of the League, or Allen and Mina boning each other in the woods. Having Harry Potter become the Antichrist may be a bit harsher on a cosmic level, but it’s not particularly different.

So yes, Harry Potter is the Antichrist, but what gets me is the Deus Ex Machina. Not that I’m complaining about Deus Ex Machina, that’s cliché to complain about Deus Ex Machina. We should have more Deus Ex Machina, if only because it will piss of those Strident Atheist Fuckers. What gets me is that God in this book is Mary Poppins.

So one could say that this is just Moore and O’Neil having a big pull on our leg, but there has got to be more going on here. Why Mary Poppins, and not some other fictional god figure. Heck, why not Aslan? If Harry Potter is to be the Antichrist, why not have the fictional aspect of Christ? Well, this is probably because Alan Moore is about as Christian as a snake-worshipping wizard. Aslan just wouldn’t fit. There’s also a certain gendered thing now that I think of it. Aslan’s nemesis is the White Witch, a female. In League, we have the female God figure against a male figure of evil.

(Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t think the League Universe Harry Potter is strictly evil. He’s basically just an angry young man who was manipulated by forces of evil. He’s basically just a kid who needs to calm the fuck down, and probably needs more of a sympathetic ear then he was given. Still doesn’t excuse him for trying to destroy the world, but that’s what you get when you let evil wizards run your school.)

Anyways, back to Mary Poppins. I ended up finding an article that gives much to this. I have been looking around and reading that Mary Poppins is an embodiment of the Thelemic Goddess Babalon. This didn’t really mesh with me at first since Mary Poppins doesn’t seem to fit entirely well with Babalon. I then read this.

Amy: The question of who Mary Poppins actually is should be fairly easy to answer for anyone who slogged through the marathon Kabbalah lec..I mean story arc in Promethea. The clue’s in her first name…. Mary is a manifestation of the sephirah Binah, and with a little inspection it seems she embodies both of the sphere’s attributes. A nanny (read: mother) to all, she’s the bottomlessly compassionate Marie, but, stern house-frau that she is and consort to the filthiest and most ‘fallen’ of all the victorian/edwardian stock characters, the chimney sweep, she also doubles up as Babylon. Her stated concern for ‘the healthy development’ of childrens’ imagination just serves to underline this promethean connection (and Moore’s concern, if it was ever in doubt, that Harry Potter is the imaginative equivalent of poison). – Mindless Ones “League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Century: Part Three

This makes sense. Skip past Babalon, and Mary Poppins is an emanation of the Sephirot of Binah. So I have that as my answer, and I’m sticking to it. I will now publish this post, because it has been taking to damn long, and I have not given any new information on this text.

The Inevitable KW Poetry Slam Rant


Dear KW Circle Jerk

You want a fucking rant? I’ll give you a goddamn fucking rant!

I have tried to be polite, and I have failed. I have decided that I will talk to you in the only language you understand, rants. This is a difficult process for me, because I’ve been taught to hold back on the sheer amount of concentrated rage I can express, so that I don’t offend, or more importantly frighten, the people around me. Well to be quite frank, I have been offended, day in and day out by you. So because we are all one big happy poetry community, I am going to bring up some of my problems with you.


I have heard you call yourselves cutting edge. This is a bold-faced lie. The KW Poetry Slam is about as cutting edge as Justin Bieber. The only real difference you have from Justin Bieber is that you are working in a genre that wants to be popular, but isn’t. Sure, Slam Poetry is better known then the academic branches (whatever those are), but at the end of the day you are still the popular form of the left-wing, and you are still pandering to your audience.

Let me make this clear. Women have been writing about how their vaginas are beautiful vortexes of creation since the 1960s. It has been close to fifty years now. It is no longer cutting edge. It is cliché. The Poetry Slam has been around for almost thirty years, it is not longer the new form, it is the establishment. Every Slam Poet writes about some cause. Heck, I’ve written about police brutality. I have yet to see anything at the KW Poetry Slam that is something I would describe as new.

You want to write about being a feminist, that’s fine, just don’t call yourself cutting edge unless you are.

Actually, what would make a poem cutting edge anyways? That it is faster than previous generations of poems? That it’s not only a poem, but a camera and a butter knife and what have you?


This connects to my accusations that you are pandering to the audience. I hear a lot about community at the KW Poetry Slam. I hear a lot about community in the Poetry Slam world in general. You know who else has community? INBREED CANNIBAL HILLBILLYS!

Actually, that’s not a bad way of describing the poetry slam. Controversy to sampling aside, poems have been known to be recursive for years, centuries even. I’m not holding cannibalism against the Poetry Slam in general. It’s the incestuous hillbilly thing that bothers me. You average Poetry Slam usually has the same few people, and eventually rules start developing. You expect certain things. You start so what anytime someone says Marc Smith. Why do you do that? Really, has anyone ever explained why this happens?

Anyways, my point is that the KW Poetry Slam has itself up so that a certain kind of poetry keeps up. It’s not that Kitchener-Waterloo only has poets from this kind of area, it’s just that the KW Poetry Slam attracts the same kind of poet. And they all do the same kind of poem. The “I am a beautiful snowflake and I am going to tell you about all the horrible things those rich white men do, but don’t worry because we have the power to change the world,” poem. Seriously, that is the only poem I hear from you. Could it kill you to write something that has nothing to do with that, and maybe, I don’t know, grow as an artist?


I’m not saying art isn’t about social commentary, I believe that is one of art’s functions. My problem is that you are only social commentary, AND IT IS GETTING ANNOYING.

“Oh, Dylan, you can’t say that,” says the Slam Poet. “You’re just ignoring the fact that our society perpetuates rape, and Stephen Harper is destroying our country, and that Israel is setting up a Holocaust in Palestine. You just don’t have a social consciousness, like we do. Don’t you care about saving the world?”

You know what Slam Poet? No, I don’t care about saving the world. Fuck saving the world. I am so sick of you going on about saving the fucking world. You only talk about saving the world. I am at this point ready to say fuck the world, let’s end it now and put it out of it’s fucking misery because I am sick of you saying that I need too.

“But Dylan, art can be a powerful force of social change,” the Slam Poet says.

No, art is not a force for social change. Art is a byproduct of social change. Was Hitler suddenly defeated by a play? Did Pol Pot suddenly decide not to commit genocide when he heard a poem about how bad killing people is? Among all the poems, all the songs, all the books and movies made about George W. Bush’s grand eight year fuck up, did he show any sign of stopping? At this point, your only hope of poetry having any social change, is that the wind caries your piss in the general direction of whoever it is you are complaining about.

Again, I want to reiterate that good art can, and does, discuss political issues. There is a difference between a work that addresses social issues, and examines its effects on human beings within a society, and a piece that just talks about them. There is a difference between saying “The War on Drugs has a negative effect upon society,” and “The Wire.” There is a difference between saying “Good art cannot flourish under a totalitarian state,” and “The Master and Margarita.” There is a difference to saying “Since 1993, there have been 5000 unanswered deaths of female factory workers in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico,” and “2666.” These works show fully realized human beings, humans with strengths, desires and flaws. Human beings who are not mouth pieces for the author to go off on whatever rant he feels like. These are what I like to experience as a reader and viewer. I’m not asking you to give the next Great Canadian Novel, but you could at least seek to try giving us something human instead of talking about what affects humans.


I have gotten this response from a prominent member of the KW Poetry Slam. I will spare her the indignity of saying the name of this individual, but this quote has stayed with me. This is probably the most disturbing, offensive thing I have ever heard at a poetry slam. Talking about rape and genocide is expected, but this is something that I find disturbing on several levels.

I admit, I am not the best poet. I am not very strong at metre, and I write very infrequently. I do like to put effort into my pieces. If you have heard some of my poems, then you should know that the next time I perform them they will be different. In fact, I was thinking of reworking a few of them to have stronger mnemonic devices so I can more easily perform them without a page. And the Poetry Slam is a very seat of the pants type of poetry. But there is still that one line, that you don’t really have to care about poetry. You just want a creative (I use the term loosely) way to bring up social critique. Ultimately, you don’t change, and without change, you can’t have good art.

It may seem foolish, but I expect the standard of art I hear to be of the same standard as the guy who does my plumbing. My father always told me that you should put your best into whatever it is you do, even if it is something you hate. Well God help me, I love poetry. Can you blame me for wanting to put in a little extra effort? And can you blame me, for being offended when people take a thing I love and treat it shabbily, as if poetry was just a prop in their trunk of polemics?

So to wrap this up KW Poetry Slam, shut the fuck up and look at yourselves. Really look at yourselves. You are not as deep as you think you are. You are not as good as you think you are. You are not the avant-garde, you are not the new face of poetry. I am even going to say that you are not horrible. You are not offensive enough to be horrible. You are just average, and in the end that is a bigger sin then being horrible.

ADDENDUM: When I wrote this I was tired and angry at things beyond my control. If I have offended you, I am sorry, but I stand by my basic point. The KW Poetry Slam has become a recepticle of all the faults of the Poetry Slam form, and has become dry, unchallenging, and boring. It is ultimately inevitable that the Slam would become an institution, and with it loose much of it’s vitality. In the name of good art, it is time for us to seriously consider an alternative.

OIPS Update: Watching the Compotition

So with the Ontario International Poetry Slam coming up, I thought it would be a good thing to remind you guys that I am in it. Half of you probably came to this blog because my profile links to here. Anyways, I thought that looking at my competition would be appropriate since the bouts have been put up. So here it is, my competition for the Fourth Bout of the Ontario International Poetry Slam.

Dan (AKA Dan Murrey, AKA Dan) – Burlington, ON. CA

Dan Murray is a two-time member of the Burlington Slam Project team. Having graced both Canadian and US national competitions, he is most easily identified by a vast and commanding stage presence. His writing often attempts to connect author to audience through shared experience, in the hopes that we may better ourselves by helping and guiding one another.

Short description: this guy understands Slam Poetry.

Long description: The Slam Poem serves a sort of news function in our culture. Like the folk song or the rap it gives the common people a form to express a news bias that they can’t get in the controlled media of the hegemony that is our current society.

Observe his poem Damages. Now on the one hand, this is a pretty standard slam poem, your basic “I am X,” poem that you usually see in the poetry slam. Personally, I have a bit of a problem with the whole “this is a poem about my identity,” style, but hey I’m white and have nothing but my Aspergers Syndrome to go back on to say I’m not privileged and really white people complaining about lack of privilege sounds a bit silly, to put it lightly. Anyways, Dan talks about being a depressive, and for some reason I like this poem. I think it’s how he is able to go right into the pain of being a depressive. As someone with Aspergers Syndrome I’m also familiar with my psychological diagnosis being a fashion statement. As such, I am going to place him as my main competition. He has a very clear understanding of what slam poetry is.

Lex Leosis – Sherbroke, QC, CA

Lex Leosis is a Toronto born spoken word/rap artist who currently resides in the Eastern Townships. She is a participant in the Canadian Hip Hop community through dance, rap and spoken word. She is a member of the Messengers, competed in Brave New Voice, Rustbelt and was on the 1st Toronto Youth Spoken Word Team.

She raps. I’m not really familiar with rap, so I can’t really make much from this. I only found one thing from her that was spoken word, but the line between hip-hop and slam poetry can be pretty thin. I also am going to say that I respect hip-hop for its orality and use of language.

Again, I’m getting the angry vibe from her. If I’m supposed to take the biographic topics as hers, which is usually the case in spoken word, then she has grown up on some pretty hard streets. As such, I’m going to give her full points for honesty. She’s also really good at rap, which serves her well in the one spoken word post, “I’m Not Gonna Lie.” It has more of the confessional edge of Slam Poetry, and after listening to her Looking at her, I think she may be the best poet I’m going up against, and she hits that sweet spot of poetry and hip-hop which is what the poetry slam is good at hosting. Here’s a link to her soundcloud.

An Orphans Inventory

RN Wagner aka AnOrphansInventory, is a spoken word poet/singer-songwriter/hip-hop artist/community organizer/all ages arts ambassador/film-maker/photographer and HUEman. Through his various means of expression and character, he takes you on a vivid emotional burst of thoughts and imagery, that streams one personal-political hardship after another.

Another rapper. He has a Myspace page. He’s also angry. Not sure what I know about this guy from his poetry, except that he, like most slam poets, is an activist. I’m trying not to be judgemental about this, but honestly I have seen his stuff before. I am not familiar with his poetry, but I have heard this poem before. He is pretty good at rapping though, and I think you should all go to his Myspace and check out his…what’s the term, phat beats? That may be out of date. Either way, the first track “A Letter 2 Forget her, Feat Robert Keyes,” is something to listent to.

Emilee – Toronto, On, CA

Emilee likes to think of herself as both a performance and creative artist. She sings in both showers and stages alike. She is a poet who teaches dance, serves tea, acts in musicals, does crafts, and works on getting a strong back. She is big, but she is also little.

I have no idea what she’s doing. All I know for sure is that she was in a production of Godspell. Her last name is Nimetz by the way.

Jesse Parent – Cottonnwood, UT, USA

Jesse Parent placed 2nd at both the 2010 and 2011 Individual World Poetry Slams and was part of the 8th place Salt City Slam team at the 2011 National Poetry Slam. He has been on the 2007-2011 Salt City Slam teams, has served as SlamMaster and coach for Salt City Slam, and has served on the executive council for Poetry Slam, Inc.

There’s something to say about a guy who does a poem in the voice of the Swastika. He’s not the as politically driven as much of the poets I’ve seen, and he has a nice little article on him by a Utah Newspaper. My opinion is that he will be a welcome change to the large number of people who are going to be talking about the problems that will be facing the world.

G – Durham, NC, USA

At only 21 years old, G Yamazawa is widely considered one of the top young poets in the country. Born in Durham, NC and raised in a Buddhist household, G is a two-time Southern Fried Champ, NPS finalist, IWPS finalist, and has taken his art to venues across the nation. His favourite food is fried chicken, and he hates sushi.

Oh my God, you guys. He’s got a letter for a name.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Dylan you paranoid bastard. How can you be threatened by a guy with a letter for a name. It’s not even a particularly threatening letter. Like X. Or Z?” Because if I have learned anything from pop culture, people with letters for names are not to be fucked with. They’re usually loners with strange powers and maybe even a little bit insane. V. L. Q. Mister E…Okay, that’s all I can think of, but my point remains. Guy has a letter for a name, he can probably kill me with his mind.

Is he a good poet though? Well, He’s part of the talking-really-fast-I-learned-poetry-on-the-street style of poetry. Not really a fan, and the poem I am listening to now is kind of hard to understand, but it is tending towards some stuff you usually here. Again, it’s based on his personal experience, which I suppose is alright but I’m personally a bit tired of how much the persona of the poet is what we get at poetry slams.

Dylan Tern – Waterloo, ON, CA

By day Dylan Tern studies English Literature at the University of Waterloo and volunteers at the New Quarterly. By night he is a prominent figure at the Fully Eclectic Open Jam. Diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome at age nine, Dylan’s poetry gives a symbolic journey into the experience of life with autism. http://www.dylantern.wordpress.com

This guy doesn’t have much of an internet presence, beside a blog he barely updates and some YouTube videos. He has a nebulous amount of faith in his own strengths as a poet, and seems to prefer a dark material ranging from being deeply aware of the violence, the failure of communication, and a Zappaesque style of outrageous humour that could have been taken by a comedian in Weimar Germany. Despite this, there are elements of a Blakean yearning, especially in poems such as “Dionysian Hymn I,” which has an erotic, albeit naive, take on spiritual apotheosis, the sort of thing a teenager might write after reading half a book on Tantra. I’m not really sure he’s a slam poet per say, his poetry seems to veer from the usual subjects and styles. His work is pretty good, but I don’t really see him as someone I will need to consider much in the competition.

Kevin Burke – Austin, TX, USA

A native of Chicago’s Southland, Kevin’s first time on the spoken word stage was three years ago in Austin, TX.  His honesty on stage and voice rooted in hip-hop rhythm and punk-rock passion have earned him the titles of 2011 Austin Poetry Slam Champion, 2011 Texas Grand Slam Champion, 2011 Southwest Shootout Individual Champion, and 2012 Austin Poetry Slam Team.

Praise the Lord, he has a website.

I’m getting the more emotional, confessional, personal poetry slam vibe from him. He does have the more political stuff, and maybe I’m just getting tired of the political stuff and latching onto what have you, but he concentrates on a more emotional aspect of slam poetry.

YbsFrack – Guelph, ON, CA

Rafay Ansari is a 21 year old poet and hiphop artist, hailing from Windsor, Ontario and  currently residing in Guelph. In his writings,  he touches upon his personal views of reality,  world issues, spirituality and social “norms”. His adoration of life and love of learning is uniquely resonant in all of his work.

So there are three things about this guy. First, he’s a rapper. Second, he’s a Muslim. Third, he’s a 9/11 Truther. I’ve already said I don’t trust my knowledge of rap, and I’ve discussed rap a lot so far, so I’ll just go into the Truther and Muslim aspects.

So I’m going to have to talk about 9/11 Truth theories, because he is a Truther. Observe this poem “9/11 WAS AN INSIDE JOB! Muslim’s are NOT terrorists!“. Basically the title tells you all you need to know, he’s a Muslim, he doesn’t like how Muslims have been treated since 9/11, he’s not happy about the official story about 9/11. I’m not sure about 9/11 Truthers, I’m not saying who did what, but even without the Americans or whoever launching an attack on their own people to drag them into a war in the Middle East, the US Government has a lot of blood on their hands. There is also something about a Muslim talking about Tower Seven that makes me a bit happy.

There is also the fact he is a Muslim, and let me tell you he is pretty strong with being a Muslim. He talks about being a Muslim, he has a sort of missionary vibe going on in some of his pieces. He kind of reminds me of the Muslim Youth group at my campus who hold big exhibitions on Islam and hand out fliers and copies of the Quran.

Final Review

I may not have given the poets here the time they deserve.  To be frank, I am a bit tired of working on this piece for more than a week, and I want it out. I hope my fellow poets are not offended if you feel I gave you short shift.

The Pros and Cons of the Spoken Word

I have recently read this article on SubTERRAIN’s website.

In a recent article in Calgary’s FastForward weekly, the empress of Canadian spoken word, Sheri-D Wilson, said that spoken word is the new small press. Actually here’s exactly what she was quoted as saying: “Our small presses are being diminished because of funding, and also because there’s nowhere to sell the books, because independent bookstores are being crucified by the big-box chains. Spoken word is the small press voice in Canada. It is the alternative voice.”

The idea that spoken word is the new small press is absurd in so many ways. As is the idea that small press is being diminished “because of funding” (what does that mean? because it’s funded? or because funding is shrinking? is funding shrinking?) and because indie bookstores are falling like bad rhymes at a slam. And as is the idea that spoken word isn’t about pandering to the audience.

As someone who has been involved in the Spoken Word, I have to agree with this guy’s statement. There are definite advantages to the Spoken Word environment, such as the fact they are usually pretty cheap in comparison to publishing, and they are also a bit more approachable. My main problem with Spoken Word is that they do have the element of pandering. My experience with the poetry slam has been one of people who talk about radical politics, or at least left-wing politics that likes to hang out a bit farther from the moderate porch, but largely speaking it to a group of people who are around the same area you are currently in. There is nothing radical about saying “Gay marriage should be legal,” to a group of people who agree that gay marriage should be legal.

Again, I only have my own experiences to go off of, but the article does mesh with my experiences. If people like the kind of stuff you see at a poetry slam that’s great, but I personally find it boring. I’m not interested in simple polemicism, I want poetry that reaches behind the nutshell of the everyday, the nutshell in this case being stuff like pop art with its indifference to the current world and polemic goals of the local poetry slam, to the rich, meaty filling. (Yes, this is a nut with a meaty filling, like a steak. I want to have a giant nut that opens up into a well-cooked steak.)

Unfortunately for me, I am not in contact with any of these independent publishers that I have heard talk off. This may be that despite the fact the town I am is bigger then the one I grew up in (which beyond a dash of that brand of high culture that makes the middle class feel better about itself was basically inhabited by Canadian rednecks), it is still not a major city, like Toronto or Montreal or Calgary. If there is a small press here, I am unaware of it. Writing this, I do recall a small publishing house but I also know they don’t publish poetry. So again, there are no small presses here for me to express my odd ball poems about summer animals and winter animals and unorthodox reinterpretations of Shakespeare characters.

SubTERRAIN – The Panderingosity of Spoken Word

A Question of Taste: Why I Like Gregory Corso

I was asked awhile ago why I like Gregory Corso. This is a hard question for me because I’m not really good about explaining why I like certain things. Poetry is one of them. I’m sorry to say that I’m not as articulate as my profession would entail. I’m also not as knowledgable in poetic terms as I should be, for instance I really need to work on my metre. And don’t get me started on my lack of a second language, I really need to get on that.

Now back to Gregory Corso, I first got into him after hearing his reading of “Marriage,” on Indiefeed Performance Poetry. I recommend you all go see his poem, because it is a really good poem and shows how fun Corso can be. His use of language also impressed me, with his frankly absurd conjunctions, his “penguin dust” and “Flash Gordon Soap.” This even moves him towards the images that appear in the book, which generally come off as a madman, but he is articulate enough to know that he has control over his madness, which is more of a mental heat then a neurological disease. He takes a one word concept, and then runs with it to the point where he is jumping from vast images, from the traditional family picture, to the image of a desperate huge family reminiscent of the immigrant Italian milieu he grew up in, to the absurd rejection of marriage in the honey moon section “a scourge of bigamy/a saint of divorce -.” The mood swings in the poem also show his indecision, which was not even seen in much of the poetry I was reading at the time. His use of language and the little bits of poetic craft I can pick out (it was only until recently I realized that this poem rhymed) mark it as more than simple masturbation of the poet’s marital indecision.

As good as this poem is, it’s not enough to put him on my favorite poets, and for the most part I think that this has to do with Corso’s connections to the Beat Generation. Gregory Corso was on the ground floor for the creation, hanging out with Allen Ginsberg and working on the cut-up method with William S. Burroughs (albeit only for a time). The Beat Generation, along with the aforementioned Indiefeed are the two forces that made me decided to become a poet, a process that later solidified through my early attempts at various open mics and reading “The Savage Detectives,” by Roberto Bolano. That said, Gregory Corso remains one of the first poets I really got into, probably even before I could understand Ginsberg. He was a basis for what a poet could be and do, and for that I feel he is among my favorite poets.