The debut of a new work of words by MOTION – BOOM for REAL : A riff on SAMO – accompanies a significant, just-dropped, musical release. Inspired by L’OQENZ aka NiteOwlNaps’ new sonic mix “DOWNTOWN 81“ – premiered by OKAYPLAYER – and Motion’s own live eye experience with BASQUIAT’s visuals, this rhythmic riff evokes the exhibited works (AGO in Toronto) and Unknown Notebooks ( New York’s Brooklyn Museum) of this evocative artist.
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BOOM For Real : a riff on SAMO by MOTIONlive | MMXV
New york
JB scrawls across a wall
as Martin speaks
in black tags against the
white starkness
It is Poetry
Now is the Time
85
Bebop Bird lives in acrylic and wood
the inanimate tremble
of shivering disc
Black
and white
Letters spell
Prkr
like his notes
JB’s materials are found
Wax
Vinyl
Wood
Vanderzee
Harlem photog
captures the living
in gelatin
Silver
Basquiat lives there
too
paint-stained
dreaded
designer suit
Brooklyn born
Haitian
Rican
Graf and glitterati
breed
Ire and dread
Visuals pound
bricks to canvas
Street is studio
here is born the Noise
SAMO
spray cans
pseudonym
paint
transcribes planes and trains
vets and pains
and legless men
gouged by the pursuit of democracy
Still
Crowns hover the tracks
and traffic rumbles down
the surface of thin paper
VARIOS
the many
the crowd
the built up
the discarded
The cosign
the acclaim
the crash
the time travel
The regression to 7
Years
The succession of
Kings
The multi-chaos
the collage of colors
trapped in a human skull
traced by stitches
held together by scars
The Black man
boxer-ready
is a victor in the blood-filled ring
The cosmos hail the champion
the warrior returns
Locked in a frame of wood
a house of glass
renowned
rendered silent
by lips barred
in shards of crayon
and ink
The ghosts live here
the echoes of heroes
crying on stone mountain tops
tho dead
still Victorious
Burden stiffens his wings
fingers claw the dark expanse
and Jesse runs
over nazi hate
While the negro popo – blue-clad
stands static in a pale space
Samson is sheared of his locks
imprisoned by his own fascination
The poisoned portrait
Defeated v.s. the destroyed
Black slashes scream in the silence
and resonate noise
Blast of the beatbox
and spray can trumpets
wakes the worshippers
the idols
the enforcers
the pawns
The cowboy collectors
the copyright creators©
Gun-wielders who ransom
lifeblood for coins
The mind machine spins
powered by history
here hangs the anonymous
the unnamed
the self reflected in oil and stick
the tortured anatomies
the lonely black shadow
with white eyes slit
The artist in black shroud
hangmen with pink fists
teeth bared
defacement
it could have been me
The young who lived old
but never got to be
under the peering eyes of the peeping toms
darkness torn by boars with horns
and venus boxes madonna
as the fighter tussles with wolves
colored men and halos
float over the city
the games of life
the circus sideshow
Dual visions
of fire spitters
and a falling metropolis
hieroglyphics
rise from the rubble
as the serpent waits
And Exu on his altar
stands at the gate
Waits for the Soul to come
88
Here lies the re:Mix
galaxy of collage
echoes of immortality
crux of death and rebirth
re: myth
reality
the beat bop
the back spin
the freestyle polyphony
Downtown to uptown
cross bridges
and oceans of memory
Boom
for real
for niteOwlnaps
