Programming / Poetry
No, I’m not going to start promoting a big, silly, funny movie – nobody needs me for that anyway.
I’m staying for one more night in the reserved domain of poetry.
I’m improving my point and approach.
If the poems that it would be possible to propose on stage are still not monuments of soul and conscience, of grandeur and beauty, they can still be monuments of humor.
Not always stupid, this humor – that was for the title.
After all, poetry is the work on words – this work is not necessarily there to be in the sublime.
This will result in poems based on wordplay, on refrains, on more or less clear undertones.
I know that, for this occasion, these texts are totally untranslatable –
In these cases, it would be like explaining a joke, and that is quite pathetic.
So we will have to collect texts in all languages… small rooms, small audiences.
That said, poetry is not only funny because of its words – but also because of its situations.
So, sorry, but most of the Fables are quite funny – they were made for that.
Particularly well suited for staging – they were made to be easily visualized.
They are in all languages, and translations are not an obstacle.
– Okay, they are not stupid –
This one : Pour un art poétique – R Queneau
Prenez un mot prenez en deux
faites-les cuir’ comme des oeufs
prenez un petit bout de sens
puis un grand morceau d’innocence
faites chauffer à petit feu de la technique
versez la sauce énigmatique
saupoudrez de quelques étoiles
poivrez et puis mettez les voiles
Où voulez-vous donc en venir ?
A écrire Vraiment ? à écrire ?
for you :
Take one word take two
cook them like eggs
take a little piece of meaning
then a big piece of innocence
heat the technique on a low flame
pour the enigmatic sauce
sprinkle with a few stars
add pepper and then set sail
So what are you getting at?
To write Really? to write?
Or something like that : ixatnu siofnnut i avay.
This is the title – to understand it you have to read it backwards – in English it means : there was once a cab – for the fun.
If we go in this direction, the whole colony of Dadaist, abstract, modern poems will naturally head for the stage, and why on earth, sir, will I not live with my chameleon? what does my chameleon do? he turns purple – and he smokes on the stairs, the ugly insolent beast
For this evening, instead of ending it in a battle of punch lines, it would be nice to end it in the creation of exquisite cadavers and other more or less psychedelic inventions of the Dadaist poets: that way, once again, the public will have participated – will have poetized and will have found itself embarked in a perfectly random and at least very amusing creation.
Do you want an example ?
“I am methodically working to make my fortune, I am investing
in the production of pompom hats made of seal hair
very popular with Malinese tourists, who believe they can
to be able to stop conjugating child to the masculine singular. They
are numerous enough to constitute a small team of tuna!
As they say: “the more the merrier”, so when you’re alone, you’re
necessarily when you are alone, you cry in abundance. I can
fill a bucket every ten minutes. It’s a hereditary
gift made of plastic, since Jesus filled glasses with wine.
Well, I’m going to testify in the case of the pea cup.”
Each line is written by a participant – who only gives his last word to the one who writes after him, who does not have the possibility to see what has been done before.
It’s totally stupid when you read it – it’s totally funny when you do it.
I don’t know of many theatres that really engage and play their audience. Frankly, that’s a shame – it only costs to dare to program texts that nobody programs, because everybody programs the same thing.