EL PASAJERO

That afternoon while looking out of the window of “El Pasajero” staring into the green mountainous scenery she gives a nervous chuckle. It’s been many decades now since she and her husband last took this particular route on this bus known simply by it’s Spanish nickname, “The Traveler.” Really it’s a chuckle of reflection and disbelief because the last time they rode it together was over thirty years ago, it was going the opposite way and they were a young newlywed couple on their way to “el norte” seeking that better life. But, now their kids are all out of the house, either married or gainfully employed responsible adults. She can’t believe that after so many decades they’re about to go on a vacation back to the motherland provided by their children as an anniversary gift. “you worry too much” he tells her jokingly as he notices that she’s lost in thought while staring at the mountains. Not missing a step she quickly replies, “you don’t worry enough” he nods his head and chuckles too. They’re on their way back to their hometown where throughout the many years in the states they dreamt, chipped away and finally managed to save up enough earnings to build a nice two floor house out in the pueblo for when the Tio’s time came to retire. It was no easy task and the project itself had it’s typical setbacks, this isn’t that final retirement trip however, this particular one is to give the property the final once over and oversee the final stages, selecting floor tiles, furnishing, and of course local taxes. They’re about half way into their trip as they pull into the next town, the bus driver tells the passengers that he’ll be refueling and they’ll be taking a 15 minute break. They ask each other if they need to step out if even for just a stretch, they’re both okay. As passengers exit and enter they suddenly hear a voice coming from outside, “tio!” “tia” they realize that they’re talking to them and as Tio takes a closer look he realizes that he knows that face, the spitting image of his sister. It’s one of his nephews, “Emmanuel!” he says in a stunned tone. It’s sure enough his nephew now in his late twenties, it didn’t take him but five seconds to recognize his face even though the last time he saw Emmanuel he was no more than ten. He tells them to get off the bus and grab their belongings. Emma as he’s known has been waiting with his brother at that towns bus terminal for about an hour. “As soon as our mom told us you called saying you were on your way to the pueblo we got into our car and decided to come pick you up” they exit the bus and when the driver returns from the restroom they ask for their belongings, Emmanuel quickly picks up their luggage “hay Emma, you don’t have to do that” Tia tells him slightly embarrassed “you’ve been traveling all day and I’m sure you’re tired, it’s no problem”is his reply. A fairly well maintained older model four door Volkswagen drives up and out comes Emma’s older brother Uriel, “Uri!” tio says “como estas hijo, no se hubieran molestado” Uri hugs Tio and Tia and tells them that its no problem, he says, “we were arriving from another pueblo’s fiesta when our mom told us that you called saying you were getting on ‘El Pasajero’ on your way to town so we decided to surprise you here at midpoint and get you home quicker while the sun is still out. “You boys staying out of trouble at the fiestas?” tia asks to which Uriel replies, “no more than usual Tia, how are the cousins doing out en el norte?” Tio says, “working hard and even making us grandparents in the process” he says laughingly, “when are they coming out to visit?” if we can finalize a few more things at the house it’ll be sooner than you think” Tio is in awe of the paved road that now leads to his native pueblo, he tells his nephews about how back when he was younger than they are now it would have taken a better part of the day getting to and from the main city out to the country. He reiterates to his nephews that they didn’t have to go out of their way to pick them up, that they were only three or four hours from their destination which given what he was used to years back was a fairly quick ride. Uriel said, “now that path has been paved we’ll be having an early dinner in an hour if not less. He tells Tio and Tia that since their going at a faster speed than “El Pasajero” and not making anymore stops, they’d have them enjoying fresh mountain air that up to that point was merely a fond memory in no time. Tio tells them how appreciative he is that they’ve been occasionally keeping an eye on their work in progress, Emma tells him, “the pictures we’ve sent you here and there don’t do the property real justice, when you see it in person you’re going to be amazed!” “yeah Tio” adds Uri, “it’s been a pleasure looking over the property we can’t wait till the primos come check it out and stay there, they’re not going to want to leave the sierra, watch.” “I’m sure they wont want to mijo” tia replies. Although its been decades since they were last in that soil, they still remember the different towns leading up to theirs, they point them out and in their minds the reality of reaching a lifelong dream begins to sink in. The nephews quickly look in the mirrors and notice that Tio and Tia have both gone quiet while looking out the car window, the paved road ascends and they’re at the same altitude as the clouds. Tio is finally comfortable enough to lower his window and catch his first breathe of fresh country air, he does so only because he notices the slight mist building up as they get closer to town. “Hay muchachos” he says happily “the air smells just the way I remember it as a child when I was growing up with your other aunts and uncles” Uri replies with “yeah my brother and I prefer hopping from pueblo to pueblo out here for their fiestas than to go out to the city, the air is to polluted for us out there” As Uri makes a final winding turn along the road Tia points out a town marker that reads “Santa Maria Yalina” to which Tio looks at it with eyes wide open. As the nephews drive past it Tio asks them “it’s been so many years but if I’m not mistaken the pueblo coming up after Yalina is Zoogocho isn’t it?” Uri stretches his arm out and points off at the distance with his left hand, “it’s coming up Tio, that right there is Solaga off in the distance and Zoogocho is directly across from it” to which tio jokingly tells him, “I remember that much much boys” “es que ya esta viejo tu tio” tia adds with a smile, they all laugh. The sun has begun setting and there is a slight breeze but tio and tia don’t mind because it’s been several years since they last felt in that fresh air, “mire Tio, it’s getting dark and you would’ve still been an hour or two away” Emma says and points straight ahead. There’s still enough light in the day that they can easily make out the words in the coming town marker, “San Baltazar Yatzachi el Bajo” the pueblo where Tio was born. The nephews tell them, “we’ll help you tomorrow with any chores you have pending but as for tonight we’ll have a good meal with some warm coffee, mom made a fresh batch of bread just for you, we’ll have a few slices while you catch up with her” Tio and Tia both smiled with relief, they’ve arrived. THE END.

love poem

Our past, a legit blast I don’t think many grasped How what we had No one has, I’ll remember you As is As this Perfect form of bliss Now, on starry skies I don’t Bother with the, “why’s” Forgot the good times And the lies What we had Was simply Yours and mine Moved onto Different charms And different arms

P£G BUNĐ¥

I wanna be a quick badguy fling
in ur black & white flick
We'll commit capers
we'll make the plot thick
Same alibi and make our story stick
End ratchet but begin humbly
Breakfast at Tiffany's
meets Peg Bundy
Keep u enamored keep u company
Two miscreants lusting nonchalantly
Neckline and hair length
all of a sudden haunt me
A streetwise book smart Bogart no-ir
After a dame with no heart
I'll play my role if u do ur part
Just for fun keep it subconscious
Highly aware that shes on to me
Lets create foreshadow hauntingly

Simply Elegant (rough draft WIP)

I was asked to share some of my rhymes at the a fundraising event for a friend that had recently passed. Long story short, a mutual third party acquaintance kept inadevrantly bringing us together. On this given night I was on my way to meeting up with said aqcuaintance but changed my plans last minute when
We'd been seeing each other plutonically at scattered moments all year long typically with friends, hanging out and eventually began chillin' together after work. For the first time since we'd met we were finally really talking, we've known each other for a few years now through our mutual musician friends but for the most part remained in our own different worlds. She'd just moved back to L.A. after having graduated film school, I noticed we kept seeing each other around more and more often at bars, shows or sometimes just with mutual homies. I eventually told her this but, for whatever reason I actually remember the last time I'd seen her really, I mean prior to this recent time. It was a few years back in Boyle Heights at a sushi bar on First and Soto. She was having a drink with a friend and when I brought it up she remembered. This was when the afore mentioned establishment was the local go to watering hole, quite possibly because apparently other than a Mexican restaurant down the street it was the only bar in all of Boyle Heights that had a full liquor license. It was one of those random afternoons long ago when the east side crew would casually walk in ten deep with the sole intention of a round or two and end up staggering out after last call thirty of us on our way to the after hours just next door at the billiard bar. I asked her something to the effect of why she was out of town but said that Boyle Heights was actually her neighborhood, we left it at that, as she walked out with her friend for whatever reason she handed me her glass of beer, the night went as most nights did, rolling into the next day, a social justice action, a band practice, an open mic, a show, an after party, that was that.

For her frame and being vegan she sure eats alot, let me tell you. We met up in little tokyo once and she wanted ramen from the spot with the anime characters on the walls on first between Central and San Pedro, as soon as she made herself comfortable she looked at me and with a buzzed and stoned smile said, "I'm a tragona"

Last time we kicked it we had whiskey and beer at a spot where she got hooked up by the bartender, I told her "we'll blaze all night" she was down, three feet of space and a clear understanding at all times. It would be an understatement to say she is a certified cabrona and proud of it, at some random point that night while sharing a cig I told her, "I see you have several guards up and its very clear that you verbalize your issues with me bluntly but I'm actively trying, and I havent wanted to try in a really long time" she merely reiterated that she is well aware of my lifestyle as am I of hers.

Last

8:13 a.m.

Bad bitch, boss bitch
Nah fuck it, Queen I mean TBH
trying to be down w the team
Coltrane sized - love supreme
Dont wake me up
if this IS just a dream,
She's always telling me
I go into extremes
But when it comes to writing
I'm just one w the fiends
One thing to note,
she doesnt play with her screens
On me, rhythm and knowledge
Thick in those genes
But, best of all when I'm down..
She feeds me self esteem

Full Moon

(Pack of Swishers and a good whiskey)

Pack of Swishers and a good whiskey
Ghetto blaster blasting Sabbath tipsy
She next to me, both of us half trippy
Full moon all night burning dank sticky
Mastered the moves ever so quickly
Strictly emotion, was sippin the potion
Whatever it takes to taste me a portion
Yet to be sent away for raw emotion
Honestly in notion dont think im wrong
Her presence at all times an explosion
I'm talking top shelf hella super bomb
Fly gal I dread the day when shes gone
Even then her actions, forever calm
Homegirl is full of that old hood charm
Ended the night projecting thru songs
Serenating her streets all night strong

THE WALK

THE WALK

Part 1

It was about a quarter to Four on that afternoon, I’m on the escalator going up and getting off at the First Street/ Civic Center train station in downtown L.A. right by old Bunker Hill. I finished half a joint I had left as I strolled by the Federal buildings, adjacent is the Times building. The weather was just right, not too windy and just the right amount of Sun to supplement the mood. I’d just narrowly beaten the afternoon commuter rush as planned. It had to have been mid-week on a day off from work and just to set the tone right, I was already pretty faded before this whole story begins. I’m walking calmly up the hill on Broadway towards Temple crossing Grand Park, on this particular occasion she was wrapping up a work meeting inside one of the conference rooms in the Los Angeles Cathedral (of all places) and so never the less I’m making my way.

I clearly hear the bells ringing marking a new hour but more importantly they let me know that on this particular day, I’m right on time. I wait next to the waterfall within the courtyard in front of the Cathedral doors, best I can recall she’s dressed in her young professional look with a pantsuit ensemble that hug her frame ever so appropriately. As soon as I see her I immediately asked if I could carry her bag, she quickly hands me it and luckily its light baggage, we we’re ready now and off we go to enjoy our day together.

As we cross the criminal court building she smilingly asks if I have the herb I’d promised earlier that morning, I showed her two fat joints I’d rolled on the train ride over that I’ve had in the palm of my hand the since waiting inside the cathedral. We continue walking downhill on Temple passing City Hall on our right just as the rest of downtown was also beginning to wrap up its day. She decided to make our first stop by the stairs of the on the north eastside of Main and Temple in “Bowron Square” a place that isn’t known so much for its name as it is for it’s infamous “Triforium” a sixty foot art/ light installation that since the 70’s has either been masterpiece or an eyesore waste of tax payer money depending on one’s artistic eye.

Part 2

Five or six teens were skating while recoding each other doing tricks in the now empty courtyard. We found a cool little shaded area where we made ourselves comfortable and began smoking the bigger of the two joint while watching the kids skate eventually becoming comfortable enough to cheer them with every successful trick they did. That is until she began egging on one the younger teens that kept failing at every trick he tried to do. The other skaters noticed we were smoking as were they and began to pick on the poor kid.

She eventually felt bad that the other kids were picking on the one because of her so we quietly got up and left half way into the second joint. By now It’s around five and we remembered that not only was the Far Bar down the street and serving $3 Happy Hour Sapporo’s but, it was also on the way to the Little Tokyo train station which is where we were headed anyway, I’m still carrying her bag but at this point it’s become weightless to me. We make our way towards Little Tokyo and after having passed Police headquarters and finishing that last roach we end up in the back area of the Far Bar patio, the Far Bar being one of the older and still standing watering holes in L.A. that’s located between an outdoor corridor separated by two brick buildings that are both about as old as the city its self.

I put her bag on an empty seat next to me, as she excuses herself for a few minutes I ask for a quick single beer which I quickly chug before she arrives. Two rounds later while joking with the bartender I tell her about Angela Rye a fairly well known news commentator that is in town and speaking later that evening at the California African American Museum in her neighborhood. She’s intrigued because that too is also conveniently on her way home and is by now well aware that I’ll be carrying her things for the remainder of our day. Being that she was going to be so close to afew train stations on this day she opted for leaving her car home and making it a day for on foot city adventures, my specialty, hence her early morning heads up.

We have a glass of water each as a last round before making our way towards USC by way of the Gold Line/ Red Line/ Expo line, I still have herb enough for the trip and everything is still going as scheduled. By the time we exit Jefferson and Maple in West Adams the sun’s already set, we head to the recently opened Trader Joe’s in the new USC village. We’re smoking our third joint casually while making witty stoney/ buzzed observations. I should note that she very much enjoyed the look other commuters gave me as I casually broke up weed and rolled that joint calmly and confidently during the evening rush train ride back. I have a fully loaded EBT card and tell her we can get snacks at TJ's to munch while we’re at the talk. You see, since the early morning I’ve planned the day out this far ahead. I’ve had a second option for every one she might reject but so far and unbeknownst to her everything’s still going according to plan.

Part 3

At this point now the day has turned into a clear evening and we’re crossing through the USC student village and making small talk about what potential shops will be in the still empty ground floor spaces, we share a caramel chocolate bar telling her that it’s my favorite Trader Joe's snack. We’re discreetly drinking a 9% beer each and having a cold cut chicken sandwich each, she’s chasing her beer with a tall coconut water. We’ve yet to feel rushed or tired this whole time and the walk has even served as a great way to balance the chill buzz we’ve managed to maintain, I’m now carrying her bag on one hand and a grocery bag with light snacks on the other, she's happy.

At his point she’s just now comfortably grabbing items in and out of her bag as needed, the only things she’s steadily held all day have been three joints, water and cold beer. We cut directly through the campus and casually stroll through the Rose Garden, well fed, still buzzed and hydrated. By the time we reach CAAM the large lobby area where the event is being held is completely packed. She notices the crowd and as I expected rather than wanting to leave she is further intrigued.

It’s now about 7:30pm, what was earlier a warm downtown afternoon has become a fresh, clear L.A. evening. The museum has temporarily stopped letting attendees in and to our benefit is running behind schedule. A staff member steps out and informs the outside crowd that because of the unexpected surge in guests they’ve cleared out an adjacent room to the speaking area and brought out large t.v. screens with a direct feed for anyone who’d like to stay and watch the speech. Because we happen to be sitting in an area by the entrance to that other room we become among the first in line and knowing we’re going to make it in we continue opening more snacks from the grocery bag I’ve been carrying.

That second room quickly reaches full capacity. As soon as we have a seat I place the bags I’ve been carrying in the space under my chair. She excuses herself to use the restroom and when returns clearly notices me gaging the gorgeous women present and sits by my side. Many of the female attendees are casually wearing their respective alma matter sweaters, she notices one wearing her former universities and tells me, “oh look, how cool” however, people are giving us cordial stares followed by a smile as we snack when I remember that by now we’ve now acquired a very noticeable strong marijuana odor.

Part 4

We exit the event as it winds down around 9:30ish or so and because the speech hax given us our third wind we agree on one final night cap at a nearby liquor store down the street on Figueroa just south of King. She tells me the speech was highly insightful being able to hear tidbits of what obstacles to expect as a young professional woman of color and such. I’m thankful that I’ve gone back to carrying her main bag.

While at the store I grab one last tall can, a small bottle of Jameson both of which we are going to share and a pack of blunts so we can call it a night and head our separate ways after one final fatty, she is still drinking her coconut water for continued hydration. By now it’s 10pm and she remembers there’s a dispensary not too far from where we’re at and she figures we might as well walk off the buzz and get herb for the next few days, she implies I can use the walk so I happily agree.

This is not something she would normally do but she’s treating herself because she knows tonight she’s safe with me. I tell her the dispensary closes at 11pm sharp so for the first time all day we pick up our pace. After cutting through a few streets we’re on Broadway and forty third and go into the shop with five minutes to spare. Female budtenders have always liked her purchasing style because of her genuine inquisitive nature to the point that they drop the sales push and offer the genuine good stuff at a discount price just because they like her attitude and tell us we’re a couple cute couple, we both brush off the comment with a smile say thank you just the same.

It’s a little after 11pm when we decide to finally make our way home but at a bus stop just outside the dispensary we bump into a random guy that also happens to be carrying grocery bags his are just currently sitting on the bus bench. He asks us for a lighter because it turns out he’d just rolled a joint but didn’t have a means to light it. She quickly engages him in small talk and he eventually offers us to smoke with him because he too happens to think we make a cute couple. He essentially tells me that it takes a lot of courage to have been walking all day with such a feminine bag yet still carry myself in a very secure masculine way and wants to reward my confidence by smoking us out. She tells me “take some medicine out of my bag and let’s share medicine with our new friend.”

We break out the small Jameson bottle and tell him about our day together, at this point we’ve made ourselves comfortable with our new found friend to the point that he begins opening up some snacks he purchased while shopping earlier to be more comfortable with her telling of our day’s events. As luck would have it he turns out to live by her and we all walk back together in our final direction. He offers to host us if we want to keep the party going but I nudge her and whisper to her that he might randomly break out heavy drugs. She politely declines his invitation but does give him the rest of the bottle of Jameson as gratitude for the company which he welcomes.

He goes about his way and we back to ours. We reach her place around midnight and I see her car parked in front of her place, I finally hand her bag and make sure she makes it in safe. I put my headphones on and calmly make my way home thinking that in all truth everything (right down to the unexpected compliments) went off exactly as I’d planned that morning over breakfast.

THE END.

CHAPULIN

Hay viene Chapulin, destrosado como siempre
Pero trucha porque aun asi anda bien conciente
En su locura, su gira nocturna la tira lo busca
En caliente saca un churro de mota y lo enciende
Sus demonios sufren gacho como van y vienen
Lo mas raro es que solo sus mujeres lo entienden
Sepa quien lo guarda, buen jale siempre presente
El Diablo lo cuida porque chapulin manda cliente
Y Diosito lo respeta porque nunca se arrepiente
Ni siente el calor del sol ni el frio de la noche
Me imagino que de oro tendra que ser su broche
El camion le hace paro para que querer un Porche?
Las calles y los edificios son para el un bosque
Tons que? adentro, afuera siempre a pie de Guerra
Chapulin no las niega, total la corriente se las lleva
Al fin de cuentas pocos son quien lo vayan a querer
Pero eso de perdido y sin futuro, papa – nada que ver

MEDICINE

So much medicine burned I feel like a Zapotec urn
Stubborn ass necio forever and a day I remain firm
Learned long ago that respect isn't given but earned
Live life by my terms till I'm one with the worms
I've been often told that I don't fit the mold
In all truth I don't mind doing me till I'm hella old
I only know to follow the terms of my Zapotec soul
So I stay in my lane and perfect my deviant role
Model myself after the greats never been one to fold
Legacy of a literary lunatic vida loca for life holmes
You were out with the squares while I made my bones
When I'm buried don't forget to insert sacred stones
From the womb to the tomb from the sun to the moon
Life, one sacred song perfecting my cloud people tune
For people like me death always seems to loom
I only hope when my time comes I am properly groomed

"ISSA DATE"

"ISSA DATE"

working title for summer 2019 performance piece.

The concept behind this project is a Sunday stroll.



TABLE OF CONTENTS


1. #LATEBRUNCH

2. #FIRSTROUND

3. #BARCRAWL

4. #SHOOTMYSHOT

5. #MAINCOURSE

6. #LASTCALL


#LATEBRUNCH

I’m too stubborn to turn over a new leaf so I chief
I briefly pondered where I squandered my talents
The end result was really of no single relief
Generally speaking I doubt I’ll the find the peace-
I’m seeking quite unsettling, on the daily I’m battling
Mind rattling thought's that travel haphazardly
You'd think I do what I do randomly
And that's before I even exhale the blunt
When the thought's I scale have no rhyme or reason
I’m one hell of a character, dead ass no front
But, at least I know what it is that I want
No scavenger no average life traveler
I shift and adjust with every passing season
A verbatim so cold it can’t help but be freezing
It haunts me, it taunts me,
Doesn’t help that the blunt is still lit and chauncey
A scheme so slick you'd probably think it was a Ponzi
But, it’s the real deal honestly, spitting out how I feel
No need to applaud me, I’m not trying to be Godly
Just kicking a cool flow and killing you softly
And for any Joe Schmoe that is at heart low key salty,
These thoughts that come while finishing my black coffee…
I want the turkey bacon on rye lightly toasted w/ avocado life
Where whenever I check out I mean card with the chip or swipe
Manifesting my intentions, retiring my title as child of night
I don’t ask for much just repentance and a desire to do right
Not so much acceptance as having a better life within my sight
You see my character on occasion attracts some very odd types
I'm sure some may think of me as too dim for being this bright
Should push come to shove my bark is not half as bad as my bite
Don't take delight in opening up but I’m fighting the good fight
I see myself making reservations and at some point I just might
Before that I need to give my testimony with a dash of gripes
Been to hell and back, for the first time I can see the light
You'd think I’d given up long ago, I’m a fighter so not quite
Knowing I have no one to blame I’ve surpassed regret and spite
I don't want to come off as vain, materialistic or even trite
Just returning to my true potential, to my ancestors delight

#FIRSTROUND

One solid saludos to all my rudas and my rudos
Expertos en la vida callejera como si fuera escudo de honor
Flossing and showing the world que si se pudo - puro valor
Say what they will our lives have a rhythm - mucho sabor
Grifos asfuck but feet freely flowing on that dance floor
I bust a rhyme on some aver compita gimme some more
Otra copita, ahorita nos vamos disculpa mi amor
Dios me dio el don de ser el neighborhood canta autor
Y en este mero momento siento los espiritus dentro de mi
Telling me "this here is what you are meant for"
And you yourself are your one and only cen-sor, no me falles
A talent for talking about what I know best - las calles
Caught between the outskirts of benevolence and malice
Those that don’t trust ballots and those dreaming of a palace
Ahora si fuga, disculpa, rambling - one of my bad habits, chales
But talk about urbanhistorias, just Google Rockdrigo Gonzales…..
I don't slam, I don't freestyle, I damn sure don't fake the funk
Just an average desmadroso reading thick books getting crunk
Nipsey's hooks on blast drinking 40's rolling Mr. nice guy skunk
I know most of y'all like "Chapu aint nothing but a lowlife drunk"
And I mean yeah, but my roots been and will be abstract punk
Mixed with sur centro rudeboy make me a bastard gutter monk
Dispensa, try and test, off rip I’m going out my way to flunk
In the cut macking it to a cutie, palabra, never on no bunk
Breaking down her guard like it was a swisher sweet blunt
I’m dumb hella ratchet all the stories are true no front
Unlike some, when I’m broke I can still swag, fade and stunt
I ain’t got trophies an honorarium is the last thing that I want
The world my aquarium when I drowned is when I flaunt
Drinker like a fish and it's that very ego that makes me taunt
Deep sea thinker encourages the rebuttal, my every response
Black label liquor while in the cut puffing on a chaunce
Motivated hussle bumping CRENSHAW & The Marathons
Not righteous but only a fool to be focused on others wrongs
Truth be told I’ll be in the stands on my Cheech n Chong
No bullshit, for real, neta, on the set, palabra, word is bond
Ain't no one got shit on me, not even not even King Kong
Push come to shove a thing of beauty, me dead in my zone
Must be tripping to think Big Gee Hop can't hold his own
Got me fucked up, how I became infamously ill known
Give me the crown I’m melting it, this ain't game of thrones
I'm prone to doing everything, all day, traveling into the unknown
Soy Domingueada, mariscos, cahuamas frias, arrreh cabron
Word to Chandler, Fante, Bukowski, Brown Buffalo, STONED.

#BARCRAWL

It's finally come down to sprinkling salt n pepp game
Refrain from reflecting on overall losses and net gains
Simply focus on this free fall suspended by strong strains
Prepped for life's inevitable pains, no longer explain instead
No guilt acceptable, anything else is merely for show and in vein
Many full moons, mistakes later, no fear of meeting my maker
Double shot of street life, no chaser, still live life no eraser
For those i did wrong I’m sincerely sorry, glory be to getting better
Can't help it be night owl rolling when night owl living affords me
A prayer by my side for safe measure as reminder of the core me
First open letter in an arsenal of infinite hood stories...

Seconds for the shorty’s, hearts I’ve broken, them yet to break me
Refuse to learn lessons when set free, they regret me can't forget me
Most in my past really hate me, brut honesty but honestly promise me
The same and this hell I’m in will seem hella heavenly - constantly
High honeymoon probability followed by crashing and burning horribly
Unapologetic lust till we argue about who really owes who an apology
Not sure I'll ghost you but it’s almost certain you'll end up blocking me
Ending in some ole’ strangers now don't even talk to me or cross me
Attention once all mine runs its course in the end proves costly
Never the less seconds for all those hearts I lost and that lost me

But TBH, I be on my bullshit more than half of the time
Well known for pushing boundaries, over stepping the line
Most people would tell you I done been way outta my mind
One of kind, far from refined, sucio yet still manage to shine
Vices like a motherfucker still i dont even bother to hide
When i come around some dip real quick or step to the side
Only the strong come along I’m for sure one hell of a ride
Dont say that with pride - but these facts can't be denied
When it comes to life on the edge i'm one hell of a guide

#SHOOTMYSHOT

Blood red docs matched her blood red hair
Blood shot eyes matched her cold dead stare
On me, these jet black eyelashes out to there
Strutting through the laundromat not one care
Thought if she was mine bet I wouldn’t share
Matter of fact, take her just about everywhere
Made me wish that I had greased up my hair
Lil working class brown beauty, vampira waist
Love for her to invite me right back to her place
And if I got her mad bet I’d give her some space
If she were to leave me I'd probably give chase
For real she’d wanna deck dead ass in my face
She look like the type that got no time to waste
Looking like the type that just can't be replaced
Like we could have a good time boozing or not
That caramel complexion Isn't all that she's got
Like everything she do no prob, just put it on lock
Not just a pretty face done earned all of her props
I see us at protests screaming, "fuck all these cops!"
My clothes finished drying - my daydream stops

Deep convos with a woman I ain’t even met yet
Walked up confidently and said, “aaaight bet,
First and foremost sis is upmost mutual respect”
Energy got me feeling like we just might connect
Where my mind says truxa and come correct
Type that won’t set trip but down to chin check
And always got that good, good forever on deck
Look at her sideways I’m coming for your neck
Look at me side eye, she’ll be like, “girl, step!”
No creeping, cuz on me ole’ girl can detect
A feeling like she’s the one I want to protect
Fuck around, wanna man up take that next step
Apply lessons from all my past horrible wrecks
But before that, must cop consistent fat checks
Grown folkness first thing these queens expect
She only make legit promises no time for threats

#MAINCOURSE

They said G.hop you're a cold code switcher
I said blame it on this dank rolled swisher
I'm just a common ass gray haired old fixture
Tell the people no flash with those pictures
I’m always tipsy off of potent bold mixtures
Talking shit to dime a dozen or more hipsters
Openly drowning in pro devil laced elixirs
Still I treat language like ancient scriptures
Always weary of ill meaning street tricksters
ill - literate in the ways of sacred encryptions
Distorted depictions viewed as malicious
Still I speak in the ways of olden traditions
Suspicious of all modern day urban renditions
Hunters of phrases to be hip with the diction
Not living in facts but boasting their fiction
While I admit an addiction to semantic vision
Still, every two weeks must hit a clean lick
Pay might scale so I gotta choose quick
Pick a poison can’t just scat all licked split
Must secure a bag any ole pocket to pick
Persist and something will eventually stick
Stay long enough and something will click
Time in between though one hell of a trick
FML to the skies when the going gets thick
Memorize deep thoughts, prayers to spit
Chase that next bag if not its back to the pit
Adventures only built for true grade A grit
Rooted in gutter gravel down with the shits
Some shiver but this soul has many a gift
Swift with the swerve strong herb to uplift
In a curve preaching the “let’s get it” myth
On my word building nerve drinking a fifth

#LASTCALL

I’ll write you a rhyme and recite it for life
Despite what may come whether wrong or whether right
I aim for my words to keep you company during lonely nights
If you’re cold and it’s dark may my words bring warmth and light
If you’re feeling low may these words help you up and take flight
If the world keeps tripping I’ll help you squabble and put up a fight
Life isn’t simple far from being just plain black and white
Nothing but gray scales have been all up in my sight
If my words can do one thing let them give reflective insight
I’ll ignore those that feed off envy, gossip and spite
Deliver these words like Post mates fresh, focused and tight
I’ll take care of anyone who dares bring you any type of fright
No time to deal with pointless suckers or a trivial gripe
Come hell or high water for you I’m forever sharp as a knife
At the very best it used to be fat sacks of schwag stress
Uncouth grimey crimeys ditched school all day, classless
When it came to streets though we passed every last test
All the pretty girls we liked we were never able to impress
But then again we were too stuck on repping our given sets
I need not mention when in school you’d find us in detention
Vandalize everything with monikers for fame and attention
Youngsters avoiding officers with mad misplaced aggression
Thuggish little necios never knew the definition of confession
Some still doing time for not giving up the local connection
Permanent residence became California state corrections
I made it to a certain degree free, Lord knows RIP all my OG’s
Now we cop private reserve trees and some got legit J-O-B’s
Some homies are 6ft deep others w/ cases they’ll never beat
I’d be a liar if I were to say that it’s all roses and shit is sweet
I am however grateful for not having given in to utter defeat
Gutter always around the corner just like that white sheet
No high scores or played sports, got high played the doors
Didn't think what we were doing was crucial to our course
Literature was 12 oz Prophet, Art Crimes and The Source
That was then and still it’s all good times with no remorse
But, that’s just a lil bit of my life, how about telling me yours?

Brittney

I remember vividly her name being Brittney
First thing I said was "I think you feelin me"
And after that her game came on quickly
She wants to be a stripper - seriously
Looked at me like "you don't believe me"
I whispered, "actually, you intrigue me"
This went down over a blunt - peacefully
She an unembarrased therapist - literally
Thought to myself, Ghop be gentlemanly
Listened to every word she was telling me
Spoke intentional body language elegantly
I used my best hood praxis to gain access
Deep conversations while getting ratchet
Wooing her and admiting I would smash it
First encounter no distance instant classic
Our energy made real good black magic
Gave me her number, said I could have it
Firmly gripped her hips before she dipped
Took a private trip in and around her lips
Fingers mapped out tattoos on her body
Asked if i'd see her again she said calmly
"Boy you crazy... you'd better call me"

But, Can You Relate?

At the very best it used to be fat sacks of schwag stress
Uncouth grimey crimeys ditched school all day, classless
When it came to streets though we passed every last test
All the pretty girls we liked we were never able to impress
But then again we were too stuck on repping our given sets
I need not mention when in school you’d find us in detention
Vandalize everything with monikers for fame and attention
Youngsters avoiding officers with mad misplaced aggression
Thuggish little necios never knew the definition of confession
Some still doing time for not giving up the local connection
Permanent residence became California state corrections
I made it to a certain degree free, Lord knows RIP all my OG’s
Now we cop private reserve trees and some got legit J-O-B’s
Some homies are 6ft deep others w/ cases they’ll never beat
I’d be a liar if I were to say that it’s all roses and shit is sweet
I am however grateful for not having given in to utter defeat
Gutter always around the corner just like that white sheet
No high scores or played sports, got high played the doors
Didn't think what we were doing was crucial to our course
Literature was 12 oz Prophet, Art Crimes and The Source
That was then and still it’s ill good times with no remorse
But, that’s just a lil bit of my life, how about telling me yours?

Blood Red Docs

She had blood red docs
They matched her blood red hair
Blood shot eyes went with her cold dead stare
Jet black eyelashes out to there
Strutting through the laundromat with no care
I thought if she was mine man I would not share
Matter of fact I'd take her just about everywhere
Made me wish that I had greased up my hair
Working class brown beauty with vampira waist
I'd love for her to invite me right back to her place
And if I got her mad I would give her some space
If she were to leave me I'd probably give chase
And she'd probably deck me smack dead in my face
She look like the type that aint got no time to waste
Looking like the type that just can't be replaced
Like we could have a good time boozing or not
That caramel complexion Isn't all that she's got
Like everything she do she put it on lock
Not just a pretty face done earned all of her props
I see us at a protest screaming, "fuck all these cops!"
My clothes finished drying and my daydream stops

Mom's 2nd Bday

Came back from a good day after a short political campaign, felt a cold coming on and as soon as I got home I went straight to bed. At around eight p.m. there’s a phone call, it’s the hospital, they call my name because I usually take the calls but not tonight, I ask one of my aunts if they can please the the message this time, I can’t get out of bed, at this point my head is pounding, for a few months now there’s been this luggage bag by dinner table just taunting me, in it was a change of clothes for my mom should the eventual call come in, this was the call. There’s a certain fear that comes over me whenever I hear my name spoken in a loud tone in Spanish, it reminds me of the time my grandma passed away and I was woken to “DANIEL!” in a fearful tone, it was that same tone. I mustered energy enough to walk out to the kitchen, my aunts were in disbelief and I was almost disoriented with the cold that had not been there earlier in the day was hitting me with full force. They have a match; they said we have to leave right now as soon as possible. So, for the third time I grabbed that luggage bag from the floor, twice before in about as many years we’d received that call and by the time we reached the hospital twice before the surgeon’s said, it’s a no go, we’d been warned that this could happen, that it could happen more than once, that the surgeon had to physically see the liver and if the doctor said it wasn’t a match even after all of the preceding procedures, they couldn’t risk it. We headed towards Beverly Hills for a third time in three years and even stopped by my old job, I saw my former co-workers busying away, thought about having hung out with a professor friend earlier in the day, what type of medicine to purchase on our way back, anything to take my mind out of my present situation. We were given a tower and room number, the person on the phone apparently gave quick instructions and as is procedure I’m sure, we were quickly whisked into elevators upon arrival to Cedar Sinai’s pre-operation surgical building, when we got to her room there was a person cleaning it, we said we were given that room and she said that there must be a mistake because she was just now in the process of cleaning it but would check to see what the mix up was and where we should head to, she came back and said my goodness you’re right, please come in, you must have JUST received the order to come in because as of a few minutes ago this room was vacant but it does show you there so please allow me to quickly finish cleaning and you’ll be ready. Within a few minutes the first surgeon arrived she was still in her exercise clothing, she was in the gym when she got the call, she took quick observational notes, touched her liver area said that the rest of the team was on its way but they’d be heading straight to the operating room that she was the only doctor she’d see and said, “I’m leaving now to inform the other doctors, if you don’t see me it’s because it’s a ‘go ahead’ and I’ll be prepping for your surgery but if you see me it’s because I’m going to tell you that we won’t go through with it. It was around ten and still no word, we thought that the doctor would come in any moment and apologize and probably still make it back to the gym. I asked the nurse and she said she’d check for us, she came back into the room and nonchalantly said,” they’re getting ready, you WILL be going into surgery that’s why the doctor’s not back, she’s prepping as well.” We were totally caught off guard and trying to figure how to go about whatever was coming next, it’s the day the doctors tell you will come but you’ve stopped believing and then it comes out of nowhere. I asked where we could wait for her and they said we could go home because it was going to be at the very least a twelve hour procedure but that they’d call us every hour on the hour for an update. I told my tia’s they could head home, that I’d stay with her till they rolled her into the operating room. Just before midnight she went into the operating room, I was a nervous wreck but my good friend Will Flo came to scoop me up, we ended up at the now defunct Lucy’s on Hoover and Washington it was almost two in the morning, I forgot I was sick, Will Flo reassured me that everything would be cool and to stay strong, I thanked him and he dropped me off. Sure enough every hour on the hour for twelve hours I received a phone call letting me know everything was going well and at last a little past noon on February 17th 2017 I received the final call saying that the surgery was a success they gave me a room number. Before all of this mom’s and I made a pact, she said don’t tell anyone about my condition, bless their hearts but they’ll bring me down and unknowingly send me to grave while I’m still kicking and fighting. I agreed with no problem, in the first post operation meeting with her liver transplant team the psychologist told me that if I was going to be her care giver for the year in recovery that was coming it was unhealthy to keep that to myself, she said at the very least choose a small hand full of people you trust to talk to about the things I’d been and would be going through because it’s not easy. A few of you knew, most of you didn’t, I’m only sharing this to a certain degree against my mom’s wishes because it’s exactly one year ago that my mother was granted a second chance at life and in case you were wondering, she’s celebrating her first new birthday running around the city being more active than she’s ever been, in great spirits, the only person that never lost faith.

On a Limb

Her memory scattered throughout the city, ashes in the wind
I sing about our time together as if it were a sacred hymn
Stumbling home hanging on to my sanity from a single string
One time she caught me checking her out and she grinned
Lord’s honest truth I didn’t care for giving into sin, so I been
Took so many loses I forgot how it is to come up on a win
I went out a limb jumped into her ocean found out I can swim
Music in the background and in my mind that record still spins
The end point has never been merely to get all in the skins
But her not by my side and on me the feeling hella stings
You don’t want to know the feelings those thoughts bring
I’m not saying be my queen, I’m the furthest thing from a king
Worse comes to worse, push comes to shove and I’ll still sling
I know very well I’m gutter to you I might not mean anything
We can’t end what in all truth we were never able to begin
So peace, been known that my chances to win were slim

Special Delivery

I’ll write you a rhyme and recite it for life
Despite what may come whether wrong or whether right
I aim for my words to keep you company during lonely nights
If you’re cold and it’s dark may my words bring warmth and light
If you’re feeling low may these words help you up and take flight
If the world keeps tripping I’ll help you squabble and put up a fight
Life isn’t simple far from being just plain black and white
Nothing but gray scales have been all up in my sight
If my words can do but one thing may they bring you delight
I’ll ignore those that feed off envy, gossip and spite
May I deliver these words fresh, focused and tight
I’ll take care of anyone who dares bring you any type of fright
No time to deal with pointless suckers or a trivial gripe
Come hell or high water for you I’m forever sharp as a knife

Semantics

They said G.hop you're a cold code switcher
I said blame it on this dank rolled swisher
I'm just a common ass gray haired old fixture
Tell the people no flash with those pictures
Im always tipsy off of potent bold mixtures
Talking shit to dime a dozen or more hipsters
Openly drowning in pro devil laced elixers
Still I treat language like ancient scriptures
Always weary of ill meaning street trixters
Illiterate in the ways of sacred encryptions
Distorted depictions viewed as malicious
Still I speak in the ways of olden traditions
Suspicious of all modern day urban renditions
Hunters of phrases to be hip with the diction
Not living in facts but boasting their fiction
While I admit an addiction to semantic vision

Brass Instruments and Marigolds

It's like it gets closer and closer with every breath
When I pass help my funeral become lit A.F., don't trip
I come from a people that don't fear the face of death
It's on you whether or not you show my body respect
Manditory mezcals as you tell stories and reflect
Who knows when it is that we'll again reconnect
When the time comes remember keep calm and collect
Life is built on the ultimate form of retrospect
Where the memories made stay in the minds infinite
Tamales, champurrado, water with optional cigarette
Brass instruments and marigolds to my resting ground
Expect the sound of songs sung many times before me
As we all know when we go it often comes with no warning
Good eating good drinking while everyone is mourning
It's a given going out with the same spirit I was forming
Regardless, last thing I expect is for my exit to be boring

Sliced Avocados

Most would have you believe that I’m boring
But I’d cook you a good breakfast with no warning
And let you sleep in every single Sunday morning
There isn’t a need for you to be my better half
Honestly God only knows why he put you in my path
Whatever the reason I done been willing and able
By the time you’d get up, breakfast served on the table
Bond between two with no need for a verbalized label
Its things like that which make this friendship stable
Second guessing my being emotionally unavailable
While you dream I’d be cooking up something flavorful
An omelet some hash browns and coffee to boot
All the while scheming on how to come up on loot
While you catch up on some well-deserved rest
I’d write you this rhyme in my Sunday best
And yes, sliced avocados so you’d be impressed

5:14 p.m.

Window seat on the train
Tracked down the afternoon
Love letter looks and slight gazes
Walking towards that wooden pier
Pollution, tourists, hungry hustlers
Junkies, fine dining, dumpster divers
A cool breeze, roller coaster lights
Orange horizon, crashing waves
As the sun sinks into the silent ocean
Fishermen on the far end lure and hook,
Seagulls soar towards the distant sunset
Golden wave’s crash, quiet ripples break
Studying the sea floor and the sound they make
Someone off in the distance croons a sad tune
Slowly I begin to say good night
And out comes the moon