“I have always thought of my poetry in terms of it being incantations: spells or prayers to be recited in the darkest caves and the highest mountain tops”, writes Saul Williams, in The Spoken Word Revolution (Mark Eleveld, editor. Naperville: Sourcebooks, 2003). For whom are the “prayers” intended and what do they actually say?
The Suite 101 article Politics and Performance Poetry looks at the history of socially-conscious performance poetry from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present day. This article addresses the questions: “for whom?” and, “why”?
The Poetry of Those Not Heard
The “place” of performance poetry since at least the Beat poets has been neither the academy nor the suburbs. Rather, it has been the poetry of the others, the people who have been repressed in some way, creative spirits without publishing contracts or mainstream lifestyles. Edward Hirsch wrote his poem Song for the speechless: “Not singing/is also an act of devotion; those who have no voices have one tongue.” Jerry Quickley, in an essay on hip-hop poetry in the Eleveld book, notes that “rap provided the disenfranchised youth of New York self-valorization, and a new secret language that was created by cracking open English and stuffing it with meaning”.
People may consider that they have no voice for a variety of reasons, such as their economic status or membership of a “colonised” group. Luis Rodriguez observes a resurgence of poetry also among “outsiders” such as the homeless, prisoners and gang members.
An important aspect of performance poetry is that it seeks not only to mobilise or empathise with “those not heard”, but to provide a forum for people to tell their own stories. Marc Smith, referred to in the Eleveld book as a founder of slam or competitive poetry, writes that the genre is “about creating community amongst poets and audiences of diverse natures”.
Spoken Word and the Revolution
According to Rodriguez, revolutionary changes in poetry follow changes in social and economic systems. (For example, the work of visionary William Blake and John Keats’ mentor William Hazlitt grew out of the trauma of the industrial revolution.) Lisa Buscani’s poem Sirens at the Mill carries a similar warning (on the dehumanising effect of modern labour) to that of Blake: “I numbed and understood/how anyone could wear the grind,/lifer with a shard smile…”
The emergence of hip-hop corresponded with the social upheaval of the Vietnam War era. That period is explored by Scream Blue Murmur, an Irish performance poetry quintet, in their current (2008) show The Morning After the Summer of Love. The poem Mirror Image in that show juxtaposes images from 1968 (Vietnam, popular American Democratic candidate) with those from the present day (Iraq, popular Democratic candidate).
Moving Forward Through Performance Art
Like poetry written for the page, performance poetry can be boring or innovative, and of high or low quality. In an essay “The Future of Language” in the Eleveld book, Saul Williams expresses the opinion that in the lyrical evolution of hiphop, “vivid, descriptive narratives of ghetto life seem to come at the cost of imaginative or psycho-spiritual exploration”.
The challenge for modern socially-conscious spoken word will be telling the story while continuing to free the imagination and bring poetry to life. New Zealand Maori poet Hinemoana Baker, who often writes on political themes, includes percussive guitar, traditional musical instruments, and innovations such as a scuba tank in her performances. She often works with sound engineer Andrew Dalziel, blending sound and visual imagery. Baker is also the sound designer for a compact disc by poet Teresia Teaiwa, I Can See Fiji (A Fiery Canoe Production 2008).
At a public performance in Wellington, New Zealand in 2008, Scream Blue Murmur artists expressed the opinion that political poetry will continue to grow, provided performers engage their audiences and make their material relevant.
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