Penning Poetry

This week’s “Business Question of the Week” takes me back to the days when I wrote and performed poetry. Kimberly Tyler from Maryland asks:

I can see that you are now heading in a business direction with your career and everything, but I was just wondering if you were still able to write and perform poetry. I saw you perform poetry nearly a decade ago at Del State, and I was wondering if you had abandoned your poetry skills for everything else that you’re doing?

Omar Tyree Answers:

Wow! Talk about more perfect timing. I was up in Philadelphia last week, and a group of several friends informed me that this new downtown poetry spot was hot and piping. So they asked me to stop by and enjoy. Well, I dropped on in, became inspired by the energy in the room, and immediately wrote the poem below to perform as a “special guest” that evening. And I do hope that I still have the poetic goods (smile).

Truth Serum, 2009

by Omar Tyree . . .

It’s been a long time
since I’ve tried to entertain the minds of like kinds
and for the past 10 years I’ve been in a state of decline
from poetry
Nah, that’s cool. I’m cool. Poetry don’t make no money.
Then I walk into an excited, loud, proud crowd
like this one, and decide to press rewind, and fall back into the time
when I used to do this (stuff), and do it well
at the North Star Bar in North Philly
Incognito in DC
Back Words in Baltimore
and the Neuyorican Cafe in the big city, I meant Apple.
So take a bite of this with sticky candy on top
and get your teeth stuck
hundreds of thousands of Americans are out of luck now
downsized, out-sourced, defaulted, kicked out, left out, walked out
talked out, and stalked out on the streets like the Walking Dead
and talking heads won’t fix it.
We need a prescription of economic penicillin to eradicate
the disease of addiction, but addiction is the American way
where we’ll pay for ANYTHING that makes us feel good.
(Shucks), that’s why I’m off to Hollywood now to become a dealer
of American entertainment.
Lights, camera, action, money, and poetry don’t make none
unless
you’re with the networks that pimp the poets for $50 a pop and a chance
to make the next poetry inspired Mc Donald’s commercial
where you push a sexy box of Chicken McNuggets
during the NBA Championship
and brag to your family and friends about it.
Nah, (forget) that!
I wanna write the whole show and the jingle and keep getting paid
Finger-lickin chicken with McNuggets, McNuggets
Finger-lickin chicken with McNuggets
Get some
Finger-lickin chicken with McNuggets, McNuggets
Finger-lickin chicken with McNuggets
Get some . . . morrre
Ching ching! Pay check please. And excuse my urgency
but something needs to happen that pays the bills
something needs to happen that accumulates greenbacks and gold.
Can poetry be sold yet?
(Shucks), looks like I dun crossed over to the other side
the scorned capitalist, the bean counter, Mr. Bottom-Line
who don’t talk loud no more, I just ask the question softly,
“Where’s the money?”
Show it to me, so I can swim in it, like an Indecent Proposal
naked, dirty and sexy money
so I propose this to the poets, create poetry that makes some.
I guess you can see where my head is at, I’m on some executive (stuff)!
But at the end of the day, poetry still exists
because human thoughts and emotions are still priceless
and with simple pen and paper
even a broke (joker) can become GENIUS
and shine
like the sun.
That’s why we do it.
That’s why we do it.
That’s why . . .
we do it.