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Naturally wet, dripping with an instantly evaporating moisture, a dark chocolate brown Labrador's tongue incapacitates the entire right hand. Chronicling the inaugural Word Wrestling Poetry Slam showdown crashing into the cushions on the floor, reeling from the shock of it all.
Steel Wool, last minute challengers to the standing team of House-Cat Havoc. Familiarity hides inside the face of one of the 15-year-olds of Steel Wool. From somewhere, but where remains the question. Smoking was rampant, as were the rhymes from up the stage. House-Cat Havoc in a fashion of form with their collective look all different while holding the same basic garments. Running with what is perhaps a 1940s or 1950s flavour, Steel Wool missing only the feathery hats and goblets of wine.
Endurance calls for at least an hour in the difference between the post and the start. Flowing through the entire night, themes close to the heart, soul and fulfillment. Food, love lost and freedom. Combined, refined and defined.
Tight running scores, taxing even more so on the use of decimal points, scrawling themselves up out on the board up at the front on the hand of a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Liv Tyler. In a white dress and black bow tie. Only the slimmest of margins between the rounds. In the end, only one team from New South Wales to battle the forces of those down south in Victoria.
House-Cat Havoc leaving for the title belt bout in August with Steel Wool holding onto the respect of such an out of nowhere challenge.
Saturday, 9 July 2005 - 16:22
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