about the raving poets

The Raving Poets Philosophy

The Raving Poets' philosophy is not something that can be written. It is akin to a "feeling" and only hangs semi-translucent in the air on a Tuesday night when the band is ripping and the poet at the microphone is leaning back into the music and the two streams are in a gorgeous confluence.

Our philosophy floats in the underbelly of a word, or inside the fractured riff from a broken piano or at the tip of an impossibly sustained guitar note, or it rides along the surface of a hurtin' poem spoken by an inebriated poet who could care less who hears her heart or if you happen to approve of what you find there.

The Raving Poets are who ever happens to be there to witness the moments, to be a part of a moment. The happy poets who read their stuff, the happy few who put their words into the air, the poets who stand at the microphone and risk. And it's the bass guitar walking, and the crystal guitar, a funky beatbox beat, or the piano guy playing stupidly blind, or the sax man out of his mind, or a muted trumpet too cool for words, or any number of folks who show up to make the beat, the vibe, the soundscape to words.

So, we have no philosophy except that on any given Wednesday night at the Kasbar, we are often in our bliss.