Publikacija SEP 2011 - Vilenica

Does a literary gathering with fans really have to be as much fun as a
session of the National Assembly or a TV discussion on politics
Luckily, the Angels and the Aliens adorned my path with a tavern,
which the locals call The Submarine. Yes, it has a round window like
a submarine and when you enter, you descend the stairs. But if this
is a submarine, then it is the Yellow one, spaced out and psychedelic,
from the Beatles. Here they have something, where all Beat generation
started from, what defined their poetry that made it to the streets,
clubs, and cemeteries.
They call it the Night of Poets in The Submarine.
I was overwhelmed. Anyone in the crowded tavern, full of students,
their professors, grey and bald long-hairs from the underground, but
also such unsatisfied men of letters from the academic world as myself,
may write their poem onto a piece of paper, bring it to the jury on the
stage and participate in the contest for the King of Poets.
And I can honestly say that this constitutes a real situation like at
the beginning of the world. Hundreds of throats without inhibitions
judge each word that sounds from the microphone. Here they chant,
boo, or, if they like them, reward a poet with an ovation worthy of a
rock star. But if one is a bore and can’t excite the crowd, they are merciless
at giving them the bird.
That’s that simple then … And believe me, it wasn’t boring even
for a minute. And I was delighted. I took part in the contest. Understandably.
Because here you don’t need a name or publicity. People
don’t give a damn if you’re a recipient of literary awards, or if you drive
a garbage truck, or if you’re working as a pusillanimous print media
representative who lies right, left and centre.
Here you are like at the fires not far from Chernobyl or Fukushima.
You are the one telling the truth or a lie, uttering dreams or banalities.
And if you succeed, you are a poet. The one creating everything
from nothing. The one having a word and a voice. And both actually
constitute such a force that I am not surprised that it is so scarcely
used in our society.
Yet still, it is used … Believe me, I swear by my own eyes, ears, and
goose bumps. I was there, and therefore I know that a poetry reading can
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