Inspiration Vs. "Pashon" Part 1.

People ask me all the time why I don’t do poetry anymore. When I tell them that I don’t have the passion for it they always have a surprised look on their face. “…but you are so good at it! Why not?” they ask. Just because you are good at something doesn’t mean that your heart is in it. The truth is, I have ALWAYS loved to write but I always HATED to recite. Sounds retarded but true.

I had a conversation with my boy Coop the other day while we were at an open mic poetry joint last week. We began to reminisce about the old days circa 2001-2004 when you could catch me and others on every single open mic in the city. We would pour our SOULS into the mic while watching the poetry promotors/venue owners get rich off of our talent/emotions. I took us a long time to realize that we were getting pimped. I would sit there and watch people walk up to Coop and say things like, “I only came because I knew you were going to be here and I love your work!” Individuals would tell me things like, “I heard you last week and I loved your performance and your energy and decided to come back to hear you again.” Coop and other poets like us were indeed sitting on gold mines but we didn’t know it.

I had many different issues with poetry open mics and I must say that money ranks among the top three. I never understood why various open mics would charge the “Poets” to enter when in reality WE are what the audience came to see. We were indeed the epitome of “Not For Profit Prophets” and we watched others count our due profits….

Oklahoma is extremely fickle. It seemed like every time there was a new season of Def Poetry Jam, three new open mic venues would sprout up out of nowhere. We would literally go from “spitting” (performing) for each other in our houses to performing Tuesday-Sunday every week… then back to our living rooms once Russell Simmons said, “Thanks for Coming… God Bless… Goodnight!” for the last time. It just didn’t make any sense to me. The problem was that the people hosting these events didn’t have love for poetry. They had love for the money that the women of Oklahoma City were willing to spend to get in.
So we were sitting there at the poetry joint and it was boy Coops time to go on the mic. As he BLAZED through both of his platinum pieces, I began to remember how it used to be in the good old days. I remember when we used to perform in front of audiences of 10-15 people at the Samarai. I remember all the fun we had laughing and bouncing ideas of new pieces off one another. (Shouts out to the “Poet Tree” and the “Spitfire Poetry Collective”) I remember doing some of my current poems for the very first time and watching the audience reaction as I caressed each rhythmic metaphor with my dynamic energy. Like I said before, I always hated performing but I was always good at it… Maybe I got it from my pops because he is a performer… but I digress…

After Coop sat back down in his seat, I decided that I wanted to get on the mic and share the poem that I had on my mind. I stepped to the mic with NO intro… No Jokes… No Biography…. Just pure Saliva and emotion. I made eye contact with just about everyone in the room as I bled my emotions into the room. I made the audience laugh… I made them think… I made them understand exactly where I was coming from and it felt great. Was this a rekindled love or just a simple infatuation/ every now and then booty call? Did the beautiful woman that I met back on February 28th 2001 at the Amarillo Bus Station come back into my life? (Miss Poetry if you nasty) Hmm... I always knew the answer to the aforementioned questions but never broke it down to the public.

Be sure to check back on Wednesday as I break everything down in "Inspiration Vs. 'Pashon'" Part 2.