[OPEN LOG] Poetry Slam!

[pullsheavendown]

Who: OPEN to all
When: 5 p.m-8 p.m.
Where: The S.S. Kahve in Sector 3
Summary: Newcomers get their verse on. Bring your own fingersnaps.
Warning: Probably contains bad poetry
Note: Anyone whose character will go onstage is free to include the text of their poem or give a general description, like the newsfeed articles. Both action and prose are

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THE READING

[pullsheavendown]

[Aside from the microphone and stool, the stage is empty. Poetry slam participants will only have their words and themselves. Speakers are set up on either side, and there is a sign-up sheet on a table off to the side. The audience is there, ready to enjoy, suffer through or be baffled by the poems.]

[inceptionist]

Dream has not been on stage since the time he battled to reclaim his helm--of the emblems of his power--from hell, but he is not the sort to have stage fright. And why should he? He has inspired some of the greatest poets and playwrights of all time.

He makes his mark on the sign-up sheet, waits his turn, and approaches center stage, his shadow a vaguely human shape that stretches in the wrong direction.

He hardly needs a microphone--he can project his voice any way he wishes--but it is not his intent to overpower the audience. Not tonight.His intent is to intrigue. To woo. To inspire. His words weave a paradox of mystery, beckoning each aspiring poet in the room to rise to the challenge:

sun plays trick on travelers' eyes

[thereforeproxy]

Er...Hello.

[Vincent looks incredibly awkward on stage in a threadbare red tee shirt and jeans, his knees together and his hands shaking. Still he puts on a brave smile and takes the mike in hand.]

Heh...I hope you all drive home safely. [...As if this is a comedy act and the end of it. He blinks and perhaps someone makes a motion for him to get to it, or the audience's irritation is becoming palpable.]

Um, I'm Vincent Law. And this is a haiku I wrote that doesn't have a title. Okay:

White driven snow
Falls on my winding journey
Not a big problem.

[....And yet another awkward pause. Do you want more S.S. Kahve y/n/burn him.]

[showbizpanache]

[He's been sort of lingering with his coffee and watching with some amusement and affection. Some people are born performers, and others...well, they have the heart for it, at least. He's reminded distinctly of Finn as the boy awkwardly addresses the audience and reads his poem.

Once the short verse is done, he claps lightly.]

Have you considered any titles? [He offers in a way he hopes is encouraging.]

GENERAL MINGLING

[pullsheavendown]

[Behind the seating area, a long folding table has been set up and stocked with a tray of tasty refreshments-cookies, finger sandwiches, a bowl of pretzels. There’s space for people to mill about and chat without blocking anyone’s view. A bowl of fruit punch sits with the rest of the snacks, but anyone looking for more variety will have to visit the coffee bar to order another beverage.]

[madeinoblivion]

He's not really here for the poetry-

But he is here for Roxas, and to keep everyone heard. Joe settles up in a corner with a mini-soundboard in his lap, making sure the microphone and speakers are set up right, making little tweaking adjustments for speakers with softer voices, occasionally adding some reverb on the end of poignant words for echoing flair.

He happily keeps the red-eye coffee in a latte mug on constant refill, keeping it raised high whenever he needs a top-off.

[pullsheavendown]

At some point in the evening, Roxas gets away from the coffee bar long enough to personally deliver Joe's latest refill. He grins and leans in to speak quietly so he won't disturb the latest reading. "Nice work. Everyone sounds perfect."

[madeinoblivion]

"Thanks-" A grin, and then he leans in to add in a lower undertone, "some weird poems we got tonight, huh?"

Slam Poets are apparently a lot like Karaoke people who think they can sing.

THE COFFEE BAR

[pullsheavendown]

[Are you thirsty? Come order a drink-Kahve offers coffee, tea, and more. Step right up and one of the coffeehouse’s staff will take your order.]

[escapedpandora]

[The place felt busier than ever, and it was a good thing that he'd already had quite a while to memorize all the recipes because stopping even for a moment to think about the different drinks would have put the queue further back than it had already been.

Hope takes a moment to himself as the poetry starts and people start paying more attention to those on the small stage than to him behind the counter.]

[headbumped]

[ Goofy was right behind Sora when they'd entered the shop, but quietly separated right after, letting him commence a conversation with Roxas as he waddles over to the next line to where Hope was.

He is also totally waving at and watching Sora and Roxas before greeting the other boy. ]

Hiya, Hope. Do ya work here with Roxas?

[escapedpandora]

[He looks up from where he had been cleaning up the counter with a rag, and blinks.]

Oh, uh-- hi, Goofy!

[There's a small smile. He doesn't know why he hadn't expected familiar faces.]

Yeah. I've been working at the Kahve a little while now. Are you here for the poetry slam?