Tag Archives: SpeedPoets Open Mic Championship

May Call-Back-Poet: Marisa Allen

The May gig seems like it was only yesterday… that’s how good it was! Alongside Nathan Shepherdson’s incantatory reading from clouds in another’s blood and Rowan Donovan’s blistering return to the SpeedPoets mic, 30 Open Mic readers gave their all… but as they say, there can only be one. And that ‘one’ in the month of May was Marisa Allen. Marisa will now join Jo Brooks and Carmen Leigh Keates at the November reading in what will surely be an epic event, where one of the monthly Call-Back-Poets will be named 2012 SpeedPoets Open Mic Champion. Here’s a hit of Marisa’s work:

For a bird that sings
Such a song as this
Should not be silenced

Her puffed chest
Bursting with a thousand universes
Should not cave

Not for her shadowlands
algebraic complexity
Or the weight of a worn and musty ancient oilskin hanging from the hook ,on the back of
the kitchen door, of the thousands of lovelorn

though she sings but one song
on one moonless night
on one rainy day
on one lonely street
in one hollow trunked tree

It is truest
It is beautifulest
It is the only song she knows
And so it must be sung

*****

Marisa is a multi disciplinary artist working in words, sound and visuals who has performed nationally and abroad. Her sublime and visually illustrative poetry performances have appeared at the ‘07 and ‘09 Queensland Poetry Festival with current invitations to perform at the 2011 QPF and for the 2011 Brisbane Festival Under the Radar, combining experimental sound works with spoken word.

Her chapbook ‘Fire in the Head selected works 1995 – 2006’ is published through Outsiders press, edited by David ‘Ghostboy’ Stavanger. She has appeared as part of the Riverbend Poetry series readings (’10) in Brisbane. Published in Going Down Swinging, Cottonmouth, Speedpoets Zine and Outsiders and regular readings at Speedpoets and Outsiders she was a Woodford Wordfood Slam finalist (‘07/08) and also performed at the Village Festival in Yeppoon QLD (’08).

Along with poetry she has collaborated in live spoken word and recordings with violin for Shane Koyczan (QPF ‘07). Marisa is the front woman for the Qmusic award nominated avant folk, experimental blues act Bremen Town Musician as violinist, vocalist and songwriter and the band performed at QPF 2009. She has toured throughout the United States as violinist to American/ Icelandic country folk act The Foghorns (’07) and has performed solo at Speedpoets, Outsiders and various venues throughout Queensland since 2005..

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April Call-Back-Poet: Carmen Leigh Keates

The April event was bursting at the seams with words, with 30 Open Mic Readers and 3 sizzling features. And from this swirl of words, emerged our April Call-Back-Poet, Carmen Leigh Keates with her poem, Nature Reserve. Carmen will now join Jo Brooks on stage in November, when they perform for the right to be named SpeedPoets Open Mic Champion for 2012.

Carmen’s debut micro-collection, One Broken Knife is part of Brisbane New Voices III which is being launched at Riverbend Books this Tuesday, April 24 at 6:30pm alongside readings and performances from Tessa Leon, Brett Dionysius & Andy White, so come on out and support local talent!

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NATURE RESERVE

We were in a nature reserve
owned by the airport,
filming a corporate video
on environmental responsibility.
The unseen vertical extension of the runway
cut again and again up our backs
as we hiked through the salt-addled straw
with our tripod, camera and esky,
trying to see how we could make
a greenie video
out of a petrol-covered death.

The three boys and me.
I stayed quiet, wanting them
to just do their thing. To roam
like bears or chimps,
peer at a map and use a sextant,
and to then plan space travel and disappear
as I stood there loving them and keeping quiet.

One of them, I think
it was Steve A, had a little
magazine of German porn.
They were all happy
that I didn’t get angry.
I just sipped from my bottle
of thawing orange cordial.
There was no winning a fight out here.

The land was so white
it was like peering out
of a space-rocket’s louvre
at a neighbouring hot star .
Or like a death transition.
Straight from the operating table
to the yellow deserts of Mexico
where you’re met by ancestors who help you
cross the burning border to heaven.
But this was Australia
and in the middle of a clearing of hay
we sat in the car with the boot
and all the doors open
like a wasp trying to dry.

This was on the coast of Moreton Bay.
The sea foam so pre-settlement
but land so dry and
invisibly irradiated, like a fresh divorcee.
Home only now to the slyest
insects and sparrows

and King Brown snakes.
And the Red-Belly Black. We saw them
stretched on the road like the road
meant nothing. To us the road was
a punctuation mark, a signal to say drive here.
To the snakes it was just a warmer bit.
A failed stone.

Steve B sat in the car,
cleaning the camera lenses.
Kaine went for a piss in the grass
then bounded back, sure he was stalked
by another snake. He smoked
by himself to calm down.

The boys were now in a triangle,
uneven distances from me at the middle.
Over there was Steve A,
newly without his wife, and tense
with the serious girlfriend
he’d jumped straight in with—
her text messages pinged all day
like a depleting smoke alarm.

We wandered.
The creeks were shallow
and rainbowed with fuel.
Stunted toadfish nosed about
in the slime-coated sandy beds.

We loved to hate what the airport
had done. The boys held
that we were convicts, not settlers.

We walked to the remains of a jetty.
Just five uneven cement pylons
holding up the air
like a hand gesturing
that nothing can be done.

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