Event Recap and Photos from our Untitled Open Mic and Mill City Slam Team Qualifier | 11.02.22
We had Nikolai jumping in as a host again for our unparalleled open mic, which had the ironic highlight of the century as Dylan from the staff at Coffee & Cotton did an amazing poem “Closing Time,” about the necessity of getting out of work on time – and then we went overtime by a few minutes at the end. You could say it was an example of poetic irony – but only if you weren’t one of the baristas waiting to get the hell out of there.
The reason we went overtime was another hot slam of poets looking to qualify for the 2023 Mill City Speaks Poetry Slam Team. The slam was full, with eight poets in the first round: Chris Ashley, Sangeet Hayer, Mike Linehan, Deirdre McCarthy, Kris Rouille, Lauren Strainge, Peter Vann, and Zeus. As usual, the best poet didn’t win, but that’s because, in our opinion, the best poet pandered to the crowd and did “My Love Letter to the Untitled,” which we can’t help but love, despite the judges’ unrequited scores and a meaningless time penalty. Regardless, you are in luck because said poet (Peter Vann) agreed to let us post his piece here (see below).
While the rest of the poets were rewarded with candy, Deirdre McCarthy and Chris Ashley walked off with the cash, separated by only two-tenths of a point! We hope to see both again at our team finals in May.
My Love Letter To The Untitled
by Peter Vann
New shit!
Old shit!
And everything in between!
A whole new world it seems
Where the microphone's gleaming
The lights are buzzing
And the music is humming
Christened by a choir of voices
Singing unsung gospels
Setting stages ablaze
Unconventional and Uncompromising
It's Untitled!
It is Untitled to the world
The same way true love lacks labels
It is a book without a name on its cover
The story that doesn't get one until it’s The End
Untitled is a deep seeded root with Mill City grit
Born with crack streets and cobblestone teeth
Untitled is a melting pot of every cultural food
Made with love, dashed with Adobo and Fish Sauce
Untitled is an urban manifesto of dynamic identities
Generations of Beats, Millennial Rebels, Trailblazers
Untitled is both puppy and monster, black sheep grown GOAT
Whom underdogs live vicariously through what they wrote
Untitled is the villain of their own story
Turned anti-hero because of disasters and glories
Untitled is all the secrets confessed to an empty chair
Epic Lores. Eulogies. Tall tales as old as language.
Untitled is home no matter where we are
We hold each other accountable here. Word is bond
Where we slam in the spirit of competition, Don’t be nice
Cheering for each other because we only want the best
Where the best poets will not win tonight
But will be back with wildfire in the eyes
It’s not about the money, it’s about the moment
Where we have Interviews with Dead Poets
Their legacies surviving Five Fingers of Death
Their words reminding us poetry isn’t dead here
From FreeVerse! falling on stage with awkward swag
Crowds cheering Get Free Poet and Please Come Back
To rappers reciting rhythm and rhyme
Dropping dope shit intertwined with time
Untitled is authenticity, thinking critically
And above all else, community
Untitled is a coming of age growth
Metamorphosis of metaphors
Lasting symbolism of similes
Calculated consanants criss crossing
Emotions from ever evolving vowels
I’ve written more love poems than I can remember
Untitled taught me the most important one
Is the one you write for yourself
Recite my poems
Front of a mirror naked
Damn, I look handsome
Untitled is an unknown practitioner of Spoken Word
Untitled is an unbridled truth in front of the whole world
Untitled is a Brew'd Awakening with Coffee and Cotton
Untitled is an unapologetic poem made of random words
Untitled is the best new poem you have never heard
So, come one, come all, you're all invited
We are the Untitled