Montage in the Key of Basquiat


Things Left Unsaid (re:Vision)

As the black rose
Into the night’s deepest
Of midnight blue

With its looming
Show of lights, I

Wait in vain
Perchance to dance
On the sunny
Side of the street
At dawn, or

Recollect & reflect in retrospect:

Nights are but sermons
To be streamed
In this requiem
To a dream, with

Drawn from wondrous dust
On shadows of the moon
As past, present
And future ferment
Like grapes
“In the twilight
Of perpetual noon”

By the revenant vox
Of wordshippers to come

Through The static
And the hum, out from
Under the umbra
Like a beacon
Of life shining in the darkest
Of light, communing
With kindred souls
In search of the other
Side, speaking truth
To power rather than letting
The things left unsaid
Fade into oblivion
Or die with the setting sun.

©2018 MDSHall

Songs for My Father

the session began

strictly instrumental

or so i thought

till the tandem

of Jefferson

& Taylor arrived

followed by a menagerie

of midnight marauders

masquerading as righteous reeds

around a crescent moon

that boogaloos like a burning boomerang

of amani na mapenzi

sending smoke signals

from the soul station

in panacean patterns of aural alchemy
falling like summer soft

contusions of one shine
playing ping pong

off of my brain.


It’s a Wonderful Life

It’s a wonderful life

We live,
Never taking for granted
The gift of the present

As we become
The conundrum
Of body and soul
In the montage
Of our multihued
Dusted by magic
Of moments
& the memories

That see us
On the path of our own
Writes of passage.


Pieces of Dreams

“…until we dream of life and life becomes a dream…”
–excerpt from Stevie Wonder’s “As”

Caught in the movement of the moment
Amidst augmentations of aspiration, my
Heart immersed
In the myriad meanings of life burns
With Sol of my soular system, as my
Conscious matter
Follows in the footsteps of the cosmos.

Call me crazy, call me creationist
But I’ve seen God
S/he has the countenance of every
Sister…brother…that’s ever been, &
Of all the beautiful ones not yet born
That are to be
With lives linked like pieces of dreams.