Urbanstylz and Brinson’s Open Mike Night, Thursdays

 I have never been to a poetry reading so I didn't really know what to expect.  Angry Activist poets raging at the government or Beatniks in hemp proclaiming their love for sunflowers, nothing wrong with that, but not really my cup.  What I experienced was very different than I expected.
       First you must know, what I went to was an open mike night at a small hole-in-the-wall called Brinson's. I looked up poetry and open mike night on the web and came up with only a few places.  After checking out the Facebook page, I decided to take a chance on them.  I think I passed the place at least 4 times.  I finally found it tucked in a nook on a dead corner of Madison and Danny Thomas.
      The tiny smoky club was as I expected from the outside: a dim little
dive with a small stage, black, round tables, broken baby grand and a room in the back with a single pool table and a tiny bar.  I’ve been to plenty of these places in my single years.
Me and my girls crowded around the bar trying to decide who the hot guys were, if any.   But, now we talk about kids, bills, and where the family can go out for cheap. 
     This little club was not family oriented fun, and when you get married and have a child, you tend be uncomfortable any place that isn’t kid friendly, too.  At least that has been my experience.   I sat down on the cushy chairs closest to the door, holding my purse to myself tightly, and waited.
      For the most part the stage was occupied with young rappers, hoping to get some exposure.  Some were pretty good, some, not so much.  If interested you might want to check out 3202 with Smurf Diggidy on November 25 at Brinson’s.  You can find a more complete calendar, here.
      I sat and sipped my beer, waiting. I just knew I

hadn't spent an hour trying to find this club 15 minutes away from my house only to go away unsatisfied.  Just as I was about to leave, this guy gets up to speak.   His demeanor lead me to think that he was another rapper, but I didn't want to be rude and leave. So I waited. And was rewarded.
     I sat and was spellbound by the poetic tale of a man seduced by his lust for a stripper into leaving his whole life. No, it wasn't a rap song. It was a poem. This little bitty, Elliot “Hardface”, in a tilted newsboy cap, and a black turtle-neck, he looked the part of a poet.  He spoke the words like he was making love to them. It was lyrical and his pauses and starts were perfectly timed.  He didn't read from paper, he performed from his heart. And the people listened.  He moved around, gesturing and gesticulating, really feeling the words, and so was I. He made use of rhythm like it was his personal concubine. I felt like there should have been a bluesy beat accompanying his words. His rap wasn't one I could personally relate to, but I felt it. After he finished, I felt spent and grateful.
      I really enjoyed the chance to experience poetry live. I have seen it on television and it is just not the same. The emotion of feeling what someone is reading is so much more profound, especially when they are so adept at it.
       To show my mettle, I decided to step up and perform a couple of my own poems.  You can find the poems here and here.  They were nowhere near as artful as Hardface but I was just happy I walked up there and didn’t pee myself.  I read from paper and was obviously nervous, stumbling over some of my own words, but the crowd was kind.  I made it out in one piece.  I may go back, after memorizing some of my work, and try it again.

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