"Poetry In Motion": Because Poetry Is Cool.

September 28, 2018

It's been quite a week. Things have been pretty dark online the past few days, and we need a breather. Felt like a necessary time to post some poetry - one of our preferred methods of therapy here at MOXI. 

 

It's also release day for our very good friend Kyan Palmer, who has just dropped his debut EP Burn Mona Lisa. Our top pick on the 10-track compilation happens to be a song called "Poetry In Motion" ... so yes, poetry today, is #necessary. 

 

And since it's Friday (praise), check the remix below because it's pretty bangin. 

 

 

Our first poem is from MOXI contributing editor Lisa Bouchard Morgan. Inspired by the intersection of fashion and music, here is "Mystery Drape."

 

"Mystery Drape"

 

Human form, standing crown of creation,

bears even still, shivers and shames

until come

the crafters of fashion

draping its shoulders,

giving it names.

 

Weave fibers of flock, field and invention.

Draw up wide bands on bias to hem;

art does come

for warmth and statement,

so wear confidence then.

 

Uttered words shedding secrets of story

may heal sorrow, may lay more sting,

until come

the masters of music

draping the verbage,

making it sing.

 

Compose pitch of base, high whine, percussion.

Drape melody, bridge onto chorus;

art has come

taking your heart beats,

and dancing you, now – glorious !

 

{When the King comes, robes salved so fragrant, His sound will drape us, to our hearts dance content.} 

 

 Photo by Wallace Morgan 

 

This next poem is by yours truly. Admittedly, I've been hesitant to share my poetry publicly. It's a place for me to deal with tough emotions and past experiences, and feels dangerously vulnerable to publish. But as an artist manager, I am CONSTANTLY telling my songwriters to write from personal stories and bear their souls through songs that they then share on stage with a crowd! So as to avoid hypocritical behavior, here's me taking a dose of my own medicine. 

 

"New York Streets & Damage Control"

 

A little sweet and a little mean,

somewhere in between 

dirty streets and misery 

taught me how to dream.

 

Like a pretty white line

Just a little bit, it'll be fine.

Monotony, and maybe a little greed.

It all faded to dullness, familiarity.

 

Made me work for your affection,

ruined all my shoes.

A pretty kind of sadness,

sad, but cool.

 

Sensitive about not sharing feelings.

Just wanted to be seen.

But kept on chasing things.

 

A little self destructive, 

a little too much fun, 

danced around your rivers

with Lana del Rey and the radio on.

 

A safe place to breathe. Escape the city’s harsh rotation.

The subway, the heat, my lack of sleep. I blamed New York.

Exasperation, misplaced. Expectations, erased.

 

Almost got up to leave you,

three different times, 

but baby you've got that thing 

it's just so hard to find. 

 

I don’t know when you left.

But once you did, I could never find you again.  

Took a train a thousand miles away.

Left me to handle the rest.

 

Clenched fists for fighting.

Open palms for flying.

Grinding teeth through the night.

Held on so tight.

 

Bitter hearts water angry gardens.

What good is fruit when it is poison?

Forgiveness, a hard pill to take. 

But a cure so rare, my saving grace. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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wallacemorgan@moximanagement.com

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