MOTION’S “A RIFF ON SAMO” INSPIRED by NON’s “DOWNTOWN 81”

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The debut of a new work of words by MOTIONBOOM 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.

Listen | Read | Experience!


   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

print

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

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