CULTIVATING THE VOICES OF THE BARRIO
Poet’s Voices of the Barrio cultivates emotion behind the words
Award-winning slam poet wants poetry to be less about performance and more about the emotion of the words.
Award-winning slam poet Marcial Delgado is turning away from competition for now, to find more of the words that feed his soul.
“I don’t do competitive poetry anymore. For me, it’s all rehearsed and has no heart. Although some slam poets do make you cry,” he says. “I got burned out. I don’t think poetry should be competitive.”
He says he wants his poetry to be less about performance and more about the emotion of the words.
Delgado, 39, who held the Albuquerque Slam title in 2017, explains the philosophy behind his poetry and also behind the event he has organized and grown, Voices of the Barrio: Open Mic Poetry and Music.
For the past three years Delgado and his wife, Stephanie, have organized the open mic poetry reading every second Thursday of the month at 7 p.m. at El Chante: Casa de Cultura, on Eighth and Central SW.
That’s along with his full-time job of being a carpenter and home builder. “They balance me. I guess construction is my macho side and poetry is my feminine side.”
“People come together to laugh and cry together,” he says of the open mic event. “The support of the poetry community is amazing. I’ve never seen poetry come together the way it has in Albuquerque.”
He says he wants Voices of the Barrio to be a safe place, where people can come and share.
“I just feel closer to open mic style. It’s real. It’s closer to the earth. When you feel the emotion, it’s a stronger poem.”
Still he knows that the polish of slam poetry helped him process some lifelong pain.
Delgado first learned the healing language of poetry from an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher in his first year at East San Jose Elementary School.
The teacher helped her students make poetry chapbooks.
His mother, from Albuquerque, died when he was 5 years old. And his father, from Mexico, was a native Spanish speaker.
“My dad told me that my
mother wrote poetry,” he remembers.
Delgado’s still bilingual and so are his poems.
He says slam performance helped him write better, because he heard his poetry more often. It broadened the scope of his poetry, but most important it reassured him that he was heard and understood.
Because he lost his mother so early, he always felt alone, like a piece of him was missing.
“When I performed, it took a lot off my chest. I guess I found closure,” he says.
“My whole life I’ve been depressed. I thought I was alone, but people were listening to me. They had been there, too.”
He says everyone is welcome to Voices of the Barrio. He usually has about 15 poets sign up to read. But whoever signs in can read. And it’s fine to come to listen.
The poetry is uncensored and often adult material, but no hate speech is allowed, he says.
“I’ll stay and listen to their poems all night,” he says.
He says it’s an honor when poets from the open mic want
him to look at their work. He doesn’t charge for his advice: “It’s awesome, because it’s so close to people’s hearts.”
He also features established poets.
Published poet, novelist and editor Lisa Alvarado of Albuquerque, who read from her work in May, says Voices of the Barrio is a tool of community expression and art-making.
“There is love, leadership and respect, real respect, for the work of writing, for the word. His and Stephanie’s respect for the value of poetry is evident in every interaction. Most notably poets are paid for their work. As a working class poet myself, it means so much to have tangible and intangible support.”
Past Albuquerque Poet Laureate Manuel González says Voices of the Barrio is as real as it gets.
“It’s vital and alive. He started something the community really needed. It’s a safe place for people of color to speak their truth. When we hear ourselves, we find our own truth.”
His students at Low Writing, which meets the first and third Tuesdays at 6 p.m. at El Chante — often try out their work at Voices of the Barrio, he says.
Low Writing is a free and open to everyone workshop, he adds.
Bianca Encinias, owner and director of El Chante, says Low Writing and Voices of the Barrio fit the mission of El Chante, which is also home to art exhibits and other events.
Both events open poetry to people, outside of academic institutions.
“We want El Chante to be a place of popular education,” she says. “A healthy space for people to express, where it’s OK to be angry, but where we can still be safe and constructive — where we can express our sadness, tears and anger. I would rather have people write a very passionate poem than feel alone.”