Rhyming in Ink on Text Stock: Mike Sonksen and the Craft of Spit Poetics

 

While enduring the freezing rain of Seattle for most of the1990s, I enjoyed a heady share of quality spitters and slam poets; in fact, I’ve spilled my half of Guinness at many historic Seattle slam and poetry nights. Since returning to my smog-choked and wonderfully carnivalesque native land, I’ve been dipping into the thriving LA lit scene. Chock full of talented page poets, the LA scene produces an equal amount of burning spoken word artists. I’d bet my collection of raindrops that a shitload of these writerly folks—whether spitters or page poets—would witness when I say that Mike Sonksen (aka Mike the Poet), a local brother of the line break, proves himself with I am Alive in Los Angeles, his recent book.

 Alive is driven by meaty narratives that capture the unique sociocultural intertextuality of So Cal, but LA is its foremost muse. Sonksen’s narrator is an urban sociologist who presents his studies with the rhythmic conventions of the spitted word. In “Hollywood,” Sonksen’s meditations focus on the tacky greed found on one end of Hollywood’s core and the honesty in the hoods on the gritty end of its glitter. In pieces like “Spanish is Our Second Language,” Sonksen historicizes other U.S cities by exploring the hybridized languages that characterize the diversity of Los Angeles.                  

A few poems—like title piece “I Am Alive in Los Angeles!”—hit their potential when delivered live. But, as a collection of spoken word poetry, Alive proves that Sonksen is no bricklayer fouling up the court in hurtin’ sneaks and cut-off Toughskins; one read and dude is dripping with street cred and doling out poetic chops like my man Sprewell serves up jumpers. If mistakenly scouring Sonksen’s work for the comfort food of sentimental narrative poetry, the craft in Sonksen’s constructions will be shamefully overlooked. Alive is spoken word harnessed for the page.

Sonksen’s unabashed intelligence, finely tuned beats, and individualized craft with the spit poem form puts him on par with fresh, forward thinking page-only poets. To add to his credits as a multi-genre artist, Sonksen vibes Alive with its artistic counterpart; scrawled in top notch street font (props to Mear One), the book’s cover art sets the tone for its textual content. Rather than moping on metropolitan decay, Alive draws out the beauty in what signifies decay, much like graffiti art illustrates the relationship between expression and an unpredictable canvass. 

Sonksen’s poetic journey not only investigates the beating heart crouched just below the concrete of our LA, but illuminates the potent recipe of manufactured fame and relentless struggle—a dualistic conundrum that drives many confused outsiders to quip bitterly, “I hate LA.” Thankfully, Sonksen has created a literary guidebook for LA’s superbly warped offspring and its more enlightened visitors.

 

 

 

Mike serving up his word is not to be missed. In the meantime, you can grab his book at www.amazon.com, www.iuniverse.com, or in LA at indy seller Skylight Books (in Los Feliz).

The for real Mike Sonksen