R. Eirik Ott, a.k.a. Big Poppa E., was the host at the Blue Room Slam that evening, providing entertainment to the crowd with an Arsenio Hall host-like flare: a little man in statue, huge in showmanship. Big Poppa E. recited his popular "Wussy Boy" poem that sent the crow into a frenzy when he talked about his humiliating childhood. Like me being called nigger everyday at that school, Eirik was teased by what he refers to as "jock guys" with beer commercial mentality.

"Everybody called me a fag," Eirik said. But "Wussy Boy" took the sting right out of those slurs. The audience howled with laughter and screams when Big Poppa E. declared:

"I am Wussy Boy! Hear me Roar!
( Pausing and giving the audience a tough guy glare)
Meow.
Sensitive guys kick much ass. Bar fight? You think you can take me, huh?
Don’t make me get renaissance on your ass, because I will write a poem about you!"

Slam poets are here to claim and take hold of their birthright. Poet Arian Waynes, whose presence was non-pretentious yet powerful and sexy without effort, wooed the crowd when she declared:

"Would you have me forget
That the blessed first amendment of
These united
States that I can raise my voice to
Shake the world
Or at least the termite-infested
Foundation
Of this atrocious, ferocious
Land that I love
But have never been exactly proud of."

Since slams inception the movement has offended the sensibilities of the establishment on several fronts, not the least of which has been its insistent democratization of the art form. In the slam, anyone can get onstage to read a poem, and the standards of quality rest entirely on the subjective appreciation of the randomly chosen members of the audience. Academia’s seal of approval is neither required nor sought. But slammers insist that both literary and performance aspects must be present to be effective poetry. Stealing from James Brown’s song, Ott insists that poets who aren’t good writers are just "Talkin Loud and Sayin' Nothin'." "Nobody falls for that," he said.

One of Ott’s team member, a San Francisco poet known as "Seeking," says that one of the most misunderstood concepts about slam is that it lacks literary merit.

"There are bad poets ALL OVER THE WORLD, but we don't discount the merit of the whole because of the approach or mediocrity of the few," said Seeking. "By the same token diversity and performance are elements of the slam but do not comprise or exemplify the ENTIRE genre. While some folks are inarguably performing three - minute monologues many are PERFORMING poetry and critics should take the craft of lifting truths from the page a little more seriously," said Seeking.

Slam Poetry with its wonderful oxymoronic possibilities is anything but refined and sedate, and slammers don’t seem to be too pre-occupied with entrance into what they consider an exclusionary, elitist world of once - a - month, bookstore poetry readings. Slammers are more at home performing for anxious audiences in coffeehouses and bars across the country, and it is this emphasis on audience approval that offends academics.

Ott answers that accusation by saying, "So called 'ligit' poets are afraid, they want to hold on to their elitist, exclusionary ideas. They hate what they cannot do," says Ott, calmly and with confidence. "Because they couldn’t rock the mic to save their life." He recalls performing at more traditional readings and being introduced as a "street poet."

"That’s fuckin' offensive," said Ott.

I recently read a quote from Emily Dickinson that says, "If I feel physically as if my head has been taken off, I know that is poetry." To that Seeking responded, "I think that it's ironic that Ms. Dickinson would make such a comment because her poetry has NEVER blown my head off."

I’ve never been to a traditional poetry reading but when I left the Blue Room that evening in May of 1999 I realized what I had witnessed was freedom of expression in its truest form. Slam after slam and I’m still looking for my head!

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