There was an error in this gadget

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

OSNR presents upcoming ...

July 26 - Elementz HipArt in the Park featuring Mars the Shinobi, Tafari, ISWHAT?!, Concert Nova, Millennium Robots and others  

Aug 29 - Black Comix Day @ St. Bernard Public Library

Sept 17 - Burnt Sugar @ MOTR 

Sept 30 - Tatsuya Nakatani & the NGO orchestra @ (venue TBA)

Nov 14 - Turbine w/ Hamid Drake, Harrison Bankhead, Ramon Lopez &
Benjamin Duboc @ MOTR

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Nasty by ISWHAT?!

NASTY (lyrics by Napoleon Maddox)

its nasty but we seem to like it
when its gone away back we invite it
cause we feel so alive and excited
you do it all again if we can survive it

(verse 1)
good night sleep tight
don't let your friends bite
cause they grin
every time seems you might win
and the beg bugs aint got shit on them
nor the snake you might sight when the grass is thin
can't understand why it aint them
but won't do the work that it takes to win
so they creep on ya sneak on you
wait for the sleep gonna
take what you made
make your mama a mourner
so I stay from off the corner
and away from the slaughter
where the crocodile lay
I stay up outta the water
them Piranha them sharping them teeth for ya
enjoying them dream o them eating you
vampire sharing a seat with you
on a caravan smiling a greeting you
all the time planning on leaking you
so I eat a lot a garlic and speak the truth
and understand them friends that I seem to choose
ya gotta understand the friends that you seem to choose


you mean to tell me that's all you earned
its money out here on the street, like its grass to burn
get back out there and soon return
with a stack o that cash cause its ya turn
you know we been watchin'
who and who not been clockin'
yep thats it so you got no option
give every drop you got until you droppin'
dr dr dr drop dr dr dr droppin'
and we keep coming back for that
like hungry rats
that don't see traps or hungry cats
whats done is done and that is that
we become monuments of our habitat
cause something said we just gotta go back
but it aint gotta go like that
we could find a new route and blaze the track


Sunday, June 21, 2015

writings for Jour d Fete creation w/ Magic Malik



- I -
Revelation of life,
Awakening the day after,
We thought the last night had been; slept
Lived, breath’d …
To know all was destroyed
And in the end we’re still left
Not all was destroyed,
We could rebuild on what’s left.
Nothing is gone in the end,
As we able are left,
Suspended in awe
A gaze in our step
The next before we
Any at all we be into the fest

- II -
Moments thrill
In the stillness
An explosion in solitude
A static tremble
Vibration of locked atoms
We sit there,
Just like “NO WAY”
“It’s …”
Beyond incredible
Shocked in to no motion
Noise disabled
Awarely united
Sincere dedication
To elated ceremony
Anti-sonic fixation
Not withstanding.



Leaked out my insides,
Delivered each pint.
Not a drop left
Moistened the stones.
Drizzled the sand.
Paint red the gray places,
Left evidence of my all,
Left all my all.
No, nothing of me remains.
I’m but a shadow,
Only remaining to celebrate
The burnt offering I was.
It’s nothing but a party,
All for the parting,
Of the complete imparting,
Divining the otherwise mundane.
This gift to the soiree made it profane
None can reverse it.
Blessed none can curse it.
And this party called life
Is made real with my death,
And if the same;
Always true,
They too,
We too,
All celebrate you.



Commemoration of
The insistence
That this must be acknowledged.
Ignite the atmosphere,
Stain the clean
Crack a smile
Keep the deep promise
Do the festive deed of eternal commitment,
Keep it between us,
But make it loud,
Open it,
to the liquid.
Find the pulse,
Expand it,
Was dry,
Crying following.
The ache is dancing,
Each bounce will shout,
“Hallelujah !!!”
It was dry.
Now it’s wet.
Unmarked we engraved it,
At this party, set it loose
And at once enslaved it,
Captured a thing
Delight in the sting of it
In the swing of it
In the spring of it
O’ the lingering until
When synchronized.



.... Our sweat soaked the soil 
Until the sun hid 
Rested under the moon 
And then the party began 

We pull apart the earth 
Til the sun hid 
Laid under the moon 
Then the songs began

It was hilly 
Now it’s flat 
It was low 
We raised it

It was dry 
Now it’s wet 
We engraved it

The songs that we sing
Praise the struggle, the test
We rejoice in the worst
Cause it made us our best

Our sweat soaked the soil 
Until the sun hid 
Rested under the moon 
And then the party began 

We pull apart the earth 
Til the sun hid 
Laid under the moon 
Then the songs began


Exert till the Joy comes

It's a new work song 
About the perfect pain
From work done in the sun
In the dark, in the rain
It’s clearly plain 
But hardly simple 
Our sacrifice toward waves
We contribute with ripples 
Sometime never knowing 
If all this stretching and growing 
Will render the consequence 
Or surrender us to old sequence 
Hence come the end, a reward in it self 
To finish with pride, given all of one’s self 
There’s a joy in the struggle 
A delight to be humbled 
As pure as death 
As pure as birth 
Til nothing is left 
immeasurable worth ....

1st day, She created a sigh ..
Day 2, it was a moan she made ..
3rd day, She created a mumble ..
Day 4 made murmur complaints ..
5th day She crafted whimpers in pain ..
Day 6 did a frown on the face ..

7th day she made the tear of joy

Monday, June 8, 2015

who owns jazz, a poem by Napoleon Maddox

Whas going on upstairs ?
Wh'claims to own Jazz ?
Nullifies experience;
Sex barricades
Bastion, fortify class ?
This what it's come to ?
All the pontification
Was it all jaw jacking
Intellectual masturbation

Rants on tradition
You the new brown whip cracker man for massa on the sound plantation ?
If the learning ain't through your system,
Then we're shut out.
If books are all they get,
You must think nothing is left out.

And what's to be learned,
When to get a fair turn;
You show the boys "just relax",
Chicks, got no chance to earn.

Just play as well as the GUY
next to you
This bases
the future
of the music
on finance and testicles

Does that rest well with you?
You at peace with that?
Did they meet with you?
Are they impressed with that?

P'Haps you love the terms
To do the same work in art
as they do in the streets
Around the globe south, north, west & east
To control the masses
While the fortunate feast

That's the jazz you own
You can have it
You're cut from the fabric
Same as those house slaves
made it a habit
Serving well the master
While field hands facing disaster
We've had it