I would like to find the person who wrote the unwritten rule that “REAL” poets don’t read onstage. I’ve heard several terrific poets say that they are afraid to come to the open mic because they don’t want to seem like amateurs onstage with their paper. My response is, correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re ALL amateurs. The purpose of the open mic is to OPEN the microphone for any and everybody to get on stage and recite their work. Its just that simple. It doesn’t matter if you read off of paper, memorize or get up and pantomime. Its an OPEN MIC.
I was on my way to the Java Monkey one evening to meet Lady and I found her talking to this gentleman. He was saying that he had seen her at the open mic the previous day and expressed his apprehension about getting on stage and reading his poetry. He said that he thought nobody would “get” his poetry and he was intimidated because he didn’t scream and rant like the other poets. Its sad when a person is afraid to share his/her work because they’re afraid.
I think people are losing the sight of the purpose of poetry. In my own humble opinion, poetry’s purpose isn’t to make the poet rich and famous, it isn’t to intimidate and it DAMN sure isn’t to get laid. I feel that the purpose of poetry is to express the feelings, ideas and ideals of the poet, and if a person is afraid to do that, they poetry suffers. And, ultimately, if poetry suffers, then the world suffers. I know that seems a tad bit melodramatic, but I AM a poet after all.
I hear poets get up on stage and rattle off some of the most amazing, awe inspiring sets of words that anyone had ever heard. I’ve heard some of the greatest alliteration, consonance, personification, and literary brilliance ever penned by modern American writers. But the problem is, after you hear some of there poetry, you don’t know anything about them. They don’t talk about their dreams, their desires, WHO they are…nothing. I feel that if the poetry doesn’t say anything about YOU, then you shouldn’t share it. Well, I mean the poet should be more willing to open him/herself up to be exposed to the audience. We are a voyeuristic society. We want to see inside of the lives of the people we live alongside. They may be going through the EXACT same thing that we’re going through. We may be able to help them, or they may be able to help us. The point I’m trying to get at is that poets need to SHARE, whether is off of paper or from memory, as long as its REAL, its good.
 

I love being a poet. Not trying to sound arrogant and self important, but I’m good at just about everything that I do. Poetry is what I love. However, there are people in Atlanta who make it increasingly hard to enjoy doing what it is that I love to do.
Whenever I run into people I used to see all the time out on the poetry scene, I LOVE it when they ask me, “Damn, you still on the scene? I haven’t seen you in a LONG time.”
What makes it funny is because in the past year, I think there’ve been maybe 3 or 4 weeks that I haven’t been out doing poetry. So if I’ve been out more than 45 weeks over the past year and they haven’t seen me, then what does that tell you?
What I really wanna ask is, “Did you miss me? Exactly how long did it wake for you to realize that I wasn’t there? What made you realize I was gone? Did you miss my poetry or did you miss the massive amount of space I take up? Or maybe, you just realized that you haven’t seen me just now when you saw me. “
Actually, what I really want to ask is, “Do you really care?” I haven’t been in Madagascar, so its not like I’ve been particularly hard to find. Several of them have my phone number, yet my phone never rang. My email address is pretty much widely known, I haven’t gotten any email. Hell, I can’t get some of these mofos to return the email I send THEM.
I’ve expressed this to many people over the years and most of them have the same opinion: “They’re jealous of me. They’re afraid that I’m going to steal all of their glory.”
As wonderful as that sounds, I refuse to be colluded into thinking that’s the explanation. The reason is that they just don’t CARE. Its one thing to be hated on, but its another thing to be disregarded: to stand in the presence of your peers and to have them not hear a word you’ve said. This past Sunday (4/17/05), one of the poetry “big wigs” came out to Java Monkey to pass out fliers for one of their events. What? SURELY you didn’t think he came there to actually listen to poetry, did you? In the time he was there, he didn’t look up at the stage one time (At least when I glanced over at him). Every time I saw him, he was more interested in what was going on with his palm pilot that with the poetry that was going on. I could be wrong because I was actually listening to what was being said on stage. This lady named Tommie sang this really wonderful song about getting a new set of dreams. I think I’m gonna write a poem about the same subject. But I digress.
I just wish that most of these numbskulls who do all this talking about unity among poets in Atlanta would come down off of their high horses and actually begin to practice what they preach.
 

In my last blog, I talked about coming to terms with my selfishness. That was step one. The next step is to be able to discern GOOD selfishness from BAD selfishness. There is a good thing as good selfishness, because if YOU don’t look out for YOU, then who will? You know what, lemme stop stalling and get to the point. I’m pissed. I am upset. In fact, I’m downright ANGRY.
Why am I angry? I’m angry because I have to sit by and watch the EXACT same shit go on at the Java Monkey that went on at just about every other open mic that I went to that caused me to stop going to those same open mics.
It all started last year when Tommy Bottoms was the feature. Don’t get me wrong, Tommy is a straight up cat. Amongst all those self centered “I’m the hot shit” niggas on the spoken word scene in Atlanta, Tommy is the realest. I remember back in 2003 when I invited a lot of people to perform on the stage I was running at the Great Atlanta Music festival. Tommy was the ONLY one I invited to come who actually came. But with that said, he never comes to Java Monkey. But since I like Tommy, I let that pass. But then Abyss got to feature, then came Georgia Me, and then came Spinxx. Now, it’s Hiya. And THAT is what pisses me off.
Its not that these people got to feature: Its not even that they never come to Java Monkey. It’s the reason WHY they don’t come to Java. They have no respect for the venue nor for the poets who frequent. This is not something that I think, this is something I know. Java Monkey is regarded as a “white” venue. The Java Monkey poets are regarded as second rate. Neither Abyss nor Spinxx would let Collin, Jan, Lady, Rupert, Theresa, Cherryl, Brian, Prodo, or yours truly feature at their open mics. They have an “image” to uphold, and none of us fit into that mold.
I remember a story that Lady told me about her dealing with N’tellect, the Grand Poobah of The Eboni Poet’s Society. She was the first one at the venue every Saturday. She helped him rearrange furniture to get the place ready. She passed out fliers, she advertised, promoted, did everything except for sell popcorn in the bleachers. Her reward was to be passed over on the list until damn near 1AM almost every night. When she asked what she needed to do in order to feature, he told her that if she could rock the crowd three weeks in a row, then she could get to feature. Well, she did just that, getting passed over each night, waiting till 1 in the morning, getting on the mic and rockin the house. The fourth week, she goes to the spot only to have a Tweet clone on stage with her low-rising hip-hugging jeans with the belly chain reading (in Lady’s words):”Six of the lamest ‘straddle you in a chair’ poems I’ve ever heard in my life.” But such is life as a poet in Atlanta, at least on THAT particular scene. But the Java circuit was supposed to be different.
There’s this kid named “The Mysterious Poet” who REALLY gets Kodac’s goat. He commits the cardinal sin of reading his poem, then leaving. Kodac HATES that. His philosophy is “If you only want to hear yourself read, then stay at home and read to yourself in the mirror.” Yet, week after week, the Mysterious Poet does the exact same thing, and it still pisses Kodac off. But, whenever he reads the list and sees the name, he calls him and lets him read. That’s only fair. At any other open mic, he would get passed over on the list.
Java has always been fair, but it seems like that’s getting left behind. Jon Goode gets to funnel his clique buddies over to Java Monkey so they can reap the benefits of getting to feature there (Java pays its features). It may sound like I’m crying sour grapes, but I’m just concerned. I left that poetry scene because I felt like they had no respect for the art or, jut as importantly, no respect for ME. I came to Java monkey because I thought I would be able to start fresh and new with a whole new crowd of artists and get some respect, but it seems like the same dark cloud that hovered over that scene is rapidly approaching this one as well. Cliques are nothing new. The people on the Java circuit are just as, if not more so, guilty of the same thing; but at least Kodac’s been fair. However, I’ve been coming to Java FAITHFULLY for over a year, and I’ve never featured. Yet, these other “artists” who have never been to Java, and not by circumstance but by design because of total and blatant disregard, get funneled in and featured left and right. Now, how fair is that?
 

The glory if I.C.O.N. I just had a revelation. I’m Selfish. As much as I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t, I had to realize that I am all the things that I hoped I wasn’t. I’m selfish, arrogant, elitist, and I can’t hear anyone by myself.
Now, don’t get me wrong. There are times when we need to be all of these things and we do need to take time off to listen to ourselves. I don’t mean HEAR ourselves, I mean LISTEN. BUT… there are times when we have to take a step back and listen to life. I spent so much time and energy telling any and everyone who wanted to listen (and any and every one who didn’t want to listen) all about why I hated slams. I talked about the politics, the favoritism, the lack of intelligence by the judges, or what ever reason I could come up with. But the bottom line is, the reason I can’t stand slams is because I never win. Its one thing to beat a bunch of teenage rappers with an ounce of talent and no outlook on life in a contest, poets ALWAYS beat rappers. That’s not what I want to do. I don’t wanna be the hottest unsigned artist in Atlanta (even though it has brought me a boat load of glory. What, you didn’t see me on the cover of Ebony?) I want to be respected as a great poet by my peers.
Last year at the first Atlanta Underground awards show, I was sitting there with my ex girlfriend (well, she wasn’t my ex at the time). And we sat there as Cola Rum, Amir Sulaiman, Malik Salaam, Q Swon, and Isshues totally DESTROYED the stage. I mean, they turned the Abbey out. Later on that night, I said to her, “You see all those artists there that night? My goal is to be the BEST out of ALL of them.” If none of you have ever heard any of those artists, then you have no idea just how tall an order that really is; but I think I am capable.
With that in mind, when I display my talent and other people don’t sit in awe and wonder in amazement in the phenomenon that is ME, then OBVIOUSLY there must be something wrong…with them.
There are several different reasons why I haven’t won a slam, almost all of them have been listed at the beginning of this blog. The judges just don’t know poetry. The judges just didn’t feel me. The judges were friends with the person who won. Maybe I’m just not good enough. Nah…of course not. That couldn’t POSSIBLY be the reason. For I…am the illustrious I.C.O.N. Surely they must’ve heard about the massacre at J Paul’s Nightclub when I slaughtered the likes of SSL, Z Ro Toleranz, VS(pronounced Verses), and the R.A.T.S. I KNOW that I am good enough to win a slam.
Realistically, all bullshit aside, I have to be honest with myself. Exactly WHY do I want to win a slam? Do I want to win because I want to be recognized as a great poet? No. Not even close. I want to win because I want the GLORY!!!!! I want people to sit and stare with jaws agape and eyes aglow. “There…goes I.C.O.N.”
I don’t want to be recognized as a great poet for the glory of my poetry. I want to be recognized as a great poet for the glory of ME. THAT… is why I’ve never won a slam. Glory is elusive for those who crave it. ESPECIALLY when they aren’t real with themselves as to why they want it: or if they even want it at all.
It reminds me of something I read in one of the many Star Wars novels I have. This particular story was chronicling the life of Han Solo before he became the hero of the Rebellion against the Galactic Empire. He was on the moon of Nar Shadda, and he was walking when this old woman stopped him and said that she would tell his fortune. He gave her some change and asked her if he would ever be rich and famous. She answered, “Yes, but only AFTER you no longer desire it.”
Maybe that’s the lesson I have to learn. I have to get back to writing poetry for FUN instead of for personal gain, and Glory.