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It was a good night for those of us who wanted to use the open mic night, at Kirby's. Other than that, my experience was horrifying. I put my own poem together on a short notice—less than 24 hours. There was not much time to spend practicing.
By SJ Otto
Read by me:
I plan to have a revolution and to explain the revolution I will organize a panel discussion as to the televised revolution we plan to have.
The revolution will not be televised. Nor will it be covered by the revolutionary newspapers. It will not be “as seen on the TV.”
There will be no reruns, no instant replays and no commercial interruptions.
Neither the Democratic nor the Republican Party will interrupt and or endorse any of our speakers for this night. The Pot Party can interrupt all they want.
Anyone who falls asleep or becomes unconscious will not be woken up, asked to speak, nor given 10 minutes to explain why they deserve more time to flounder nor will they be given a second chance at anything.
The Rev. Terry Fox will be given three minutes to speak and three minute only. That is to say he will not be allowed two minutes, which is one less than three, nor will he be allowed to go one minute over which would leave him with four minutes. Fox will speak on homosexual liberation. His speech is called “How I did it.”
Those who miss their opening address will have to ask the opossum for 10 minutes from his/her speaking engagement time. The opossum has not been instructed to give of his time. He has no reason to be given any extension of his speaking time.
Sedgwick County Commissioner Richard Ranzau will be allowed to speak for 10 minutes but only if he can give the entire speech while drinking out of a pitcher of beer. If he can drink an entire fifth of vodka in five minutes he can speak as long as he wants. Ranzau’s speech will be called “How to keep your Children fresh while waiting for the undertaker.”
The opossum has no reason to be given extra time to open and expand on his position. He has no reason to explain to us his given-up time. He has no reason to give others his reason for giving up his time.
Sedgwick County Commissioner Karl Peterjohn will speak on the art of using Muslim aliases for committing crimes. He will demonstrate how to use mid-east clothes to cover and hide a machine gun. He will also discuss having sex with monkeys.
The opossum has no reason to give up to others his explanation as to why he has or has not been given the time that he now has. He is an agent and he is free to not give out any explanations as to how or why he is given or not given any time to not speak or to speak if he is not or if he is predisposed to do that. His time is his own.
Sedgwick County District Attorney, Marc Bennet will speak on the expansion of democracy and how to include more political parties in the electoral process. His speech will be called “Hey it’s only a few more years.”
The revolutionary panel will present the official revolutionary song, poem, t-shirt, manifesto, keychain and the super-secret handshake.
By the time the last poem rolled around I could hear crickets chirping. I could hear a few people snoring in their bar chairs. Luckily most of the audience was still awake.
As I left I heard the song "Teen Spirit," Zoe Bandana.
There were really good.
Before I left I read a poem by Hugo Ball, (22 Feb. 1886 to 14 Sept. 1927) a Dada artist from the turn of the century.;
The Dance of Death (Ball) to the tune of “That’s how we live”
That’s how we die, that’s how we die, We die every day. Because it is so comfy to let go. Mornings still in sleep and dream, Noontime already there, By evening at the bottom of a grave.
Slaughter is our house of joy. Blood is our only sun. Death is our sign, our magic word. We leave both wife and child, What have they to do with us? If one relies on us alone . . .
So we murder, so we kill. We murder every day our comrades in a dance of death. Brother, figure it out with me – brother, your breast, brother you must fall and die.
We don’t murmur, we don’t growl, We’re quiet every day. Until the joint of the hip-bone turns. Our camping ground is hard. Our bread is dry. Bloody and soiled our dear god.
We thank you, we thank you, Dear Kaiser, for your grace in deciding to lie down and die. Just sleep, sleep soft and still. Until you waken our poor body, Now covered by the lawn.
And there was a poem by him that I did NOT actually read.