11 Poems
By: Daniel Morales Leon
Eleven Poems
(Circa 2012-2013)
Written between 2012 and 2013 in Los Angeles, CA
Table of Contents
1. Only Time Will Tell (Intro)
2. The Story Pops Off
3. Cal-Fresh (In Line)
4. Street Knowledge
5. Failure to Disperse
6. Mobilized Morphemes
7. HerStory
8. This One Time
9. Wussup OG (Cal Fresh Pt. 2)
10. My Weapon
11. Daily Bustle (Outro)
1. Only Time Will Tell (Intro)
I know very well
I'm stranded even possibly abandoned
Somewhere between heaven and hell
Often I imagine I'm
Caught up in the matrix of a magical spell
I say to myself,
"Only time will tell whether I fail or excel"
As for this time I'm given,
I'm making my way out this mental cell
Breaking out of my prison, listen,
I'm out to give life to my unorthodox visions
With or without a commission
No more of that, "good God fearing Christian"
I'm taking up arms and connecting divisions
One life to lose, I've chosen to listen
Heart and soul breathing, gaining perspective
Losing control, going all in
I've accepted the mission
Now the goal is to execute with absolute precision
Knowledge of self makes me brazen
Spirit grant me the patience
What I do is for the bettering of all my relations
Now that I'm a truth chasing wordsmith
Going out with two guns blazing
I find myself constantly facing
Challenges that aim to make me complacent
Never the less, I make my way confidently
Up to the attic from out the basement
Knowing fully well, it's kill or be killed
And as for my life in this world,
-There can be no replacement
2. The Story Pops Off
The story pops off 5:00p.m. Columbus Day 81’
Moms begets her only seed, a stubborn male son
In her eyes this seed is the chosen one
Loving eyes do little to alleviate the reality
Tragically the seed sees little of the motherland
And instead they travel to a foreign land
They meet up with the rest of the fam
In this environment little boy becomes grown man
Class clown that grasps concept of
Constructing creative sentences
Surrounded by visual senselessness
And in his words and phrases one can see
The phases that a boy battles to become full grown
The child is blind to coming from a father less home
Momma does her best to keep seed in line but
She’s constantly stressed
Seed sees few things in his life are fine and
Financially he’s constantly fucked
She focuses on frantically praying for her son
He lacking self-discipline becomes educational dissident
She still sees her boy as her heaven sent salvation
And slowly the seed begins to use pen, pad and imagination
She patiently waits to shed a happy tear
And greet the potential collegiate with a “congratulations!”
But that day never arrives and by the grace of the good lord
He somehow manages to survive stay alive to see twenty one
But will he make it to see twenty five?
The year is 06’ and now seed rolls with dangerous clicks
And only the streets provide his daily deviant fix
Midnight February Friday the 13th, the gat goes bang
Seed laid out on a bloody pool as gunshots rang
Everyone a potential victim or so goes the street rule
Regardless of the reason seed done fell victim
And takes a hit, moms runs out only to see
Her son bleeding out on the concrete
Armed robbery gone wrong, seed may potentially lose an arm
Streets did him dirty did him harm
How she wishes they would have stayed in their little farm
Shell shocked and she still believing he to be her reason for living
Is borderline grieving at County U.S.C.
Moms ever the warrior wonders why Creator would wound
Her one and only, slowly seed recovers
And she feels the pain of a million black and brown mothers
The seed still stubborn and slightly shaken
Begins to wonder if he is forsaken for he has yet to see
The fruits of his current labor, working hard and never asking for favors
Flawed but now with foresight the seed wanders the street
Wondering if he’ll give moms what she deserves
Now knowing fully well that life will constantly throw them curves
In the end he hopes to find a method to ease her rattled nerves
Mother and son as it was and will be,
I know the intimate details of this story
Because the seed I’m referring to is…
3. Cal-Fresh
It's still free rides on the metro still headed to DPSS
Still in line, smelling tobacco, funk and stress
Hustling the system to pop collars and look fresh
Sitting in the lobby getting put up on game by the cities best
Clocking gov't dollars so i don't have to look a mess
Gotta look after mine just in case God don't bless
Can't afford to rhyme for free, gotta hustle and do me
You see, can't always provide my girl hotmeals off that EBT
Upward mobility duke, that's how it is, that's what it be
Defying the hard facts by dreaming of stacks,
Forever and a day bumping 2Mex's newest tracks
Cus even if I aint got a dollar to my name
I'll be underground fresh, heavy into the game
You ain't about this life, this life aint for the weak of heart
The life I live is custom built it aint no ala carte
Few finish this race though there’s millions at the start
Many make it out the starting line but crumble in the end
But me, I'm real a.f. no need to half step or pretend
No need for you to act like you comprehend
The message that I send is not to ask for repentance of sins
See I'm a sinner just like you, I do what I have to
To survive, I just know that I'm grinding on the hustle
I'm not trying to muscle in on anyone’s territory
I'm out for a payday, no fame, no glory
I'm moving on up to good brew, but i'll still sip a forty
And I’m not even sorry if you don't get this story
I'm simply stepping up to my potential
Far from coincidental, these moves are on point
So if you feel me home skillet spark up another joint
In this journey only the hungry eat
Like rhyming and kicking knowledge to the beat
I'm a beast on the street, if your eyes aren’t open
The streets will put you to sleep
So through some real talk I feed you words that are deep
And if you can't grasp the depth in that prepare to face death
That’s just a street fact, now let me get back to this line
My numbers almost up and I’m a county office superstar
Which means if you ever need it,
I'll put you up on free tokens, Medi Cal and even that G.R.
Reparations with interest though some might not agree
But you know what? I dont really care for them gee
I do me and got stacks of fresh gro-ce-ries
I don’t do that "whoa is me" mess
I'm too busy living life Cal Fresh
So I wish you the best and of course,
May God bless.
4. Street Knowledge
Like L.A. has mad traffic, smog, palm trees and bomb trees
My uncle died repping a gang in South Central
He always told me never get on your knees and please those
That see you as the source of the disease or blame you for this disaster
I didn’t understand then that what he meant was I was the seed
From then on I went on and began to see that I would need
More than my momma’s prayers to keep me safe
Student of street knowledge
Expo Park, Mid City and K Town became my permanent college
I carried with me the craft of clean conversation
Walked through back alleys in deep concentration
Nurtured by the rays of this L.A. sun and graffiti related motivation
Eventually everyone pays the price for living life staying posted
Life rarely allows us to have too much fun
Roughed is the ride as the majority unwillingly live life on the run
Running to and from safe space to crazy place back to a safe space
Some come and go leaving absolutely no trace of having set foot
In this, the land where everyone is quick to embrace
The nine to five rat race and all the reverend can do to save grace
Is recite phrases meant to put us in our place
But are instead muted by the nightly blah ka! blah ka!
And I’m forced to keep trucha from eses, bloods, crips and placas
Ducking daily insanity and quite frankly no fronting
No faking the funk I’m fucking fed up
I refuse to allow this life to view me as a chump
I’m not having any of that madness
My infinite status is that of liberating undecipherable patterns
My elders put me up on game with what really matters
And with that I can relate to those at the bottom
When most see a problem I see a solution
No more getting stuck, we’re all collectively moving on up
No more disillusions, no more alluding to pacifying this lyrical activism
My vision is for these words to help you break out your own personal prison
In taking my uncles advice I aim to complete my life mission
Defeat the judicial system that has judged me since day one
I’m standing my ground and refusing to run
And if you don’t believe I suggest you test son
When life hits me hard I’ve been known to press on
Thoughts so precise it’s pointless to have a vest on
But I’m invested in my uncle’s advice and through that he lives on
And lives strong and with that it’s like he never said so long
And though I know very well I can’t correct all my wrongs
I’m determined to scare one time with just this one rhyme
I’ll leave you with this one last thought this last line;
Tell me, in all honesty would you’d rather shine or live blind?
Do you want to move ahead or stay behind?
Regardless of your answer know you can catch me on the grind
Up on game and with an open mind
5. Failure to Disperse
For my brothers and sisters in the struggle,
For Tio Chucho that died crossing the border a few years ago.
Whose streets? our streets!
Whose streets? our streets!
Whose struggle, our struggle!
A raised fist, a smile, a tear
Anger, frustration, deep meditation
"This is now an unlawful assembly,
Failure to disperse will lead to arrest.."
Whose streets? our streets!
Whose streets, our streets!
A prayer, another tear, a deep thought
Undocumented and unafraid
Do your fucking job, you state sponsored terrorist
AND if you're brown, don't you dare tell me in my ear
That you "get" this struggle,
Don't you dare suggest "other" avenues
Don't you dare tell me that, you're just doing "your job"
And most of all do not insult our intelligence
By telling us that you're the good guys
Arrest me you piece of shit. do your fucking job
Take my finger prints, read me my rights,
But remember my face, forget my name
But remember my face, i am the face of change
We do what we must, you just do what your told
Earn your paycheck, use your handcuffs
Do what you do best, we will hold down every front
Intimidate us, scare us, it's nothing new to us
Fist remains in the air, lungs scream, more tears
But we are not afraid, we are not alone
We are here, some of us queer, but we will no longer
Hide and live in fear, we see you coming
But we won't budge, failure to disperse?
Well mr. officer, we're not leaving anytime soon
You don't have enough handcuffs and zip ties to hold us all back
All you have is a paycheck but no heart
We are ALL heart, who do you think will win?
We understand all too clearly the rights
That have been read to us, which is why we won’t budge
Which is why a tear forms,
Which is why we don't even care to acknowledge your existence
Which is why we yell at the top of our lungs,
Whose streets? our streets!
Whose streets? our streets!
Whose struggle? our struggle!
You feel our heart beat, it beats with the strength of millions
Synchronized to beat as one, and when the crowd has dispersed
And when you grab a beer after work and high five each other
And say to one another, "did you see the look on those wetbacks?"
When your bigotry becomes full on racism, remember those faces
Because even behind bars you can hear our four point manifesto
Picking up momentum and playing in your head
On repeat with no stop button...
1. we are the people
2. A little bit louder
3. we want justice
4. Our people
1. we are the people
2. A little bit louder
3. We want justice
4. Our people
1. we are the people
2. A little bit louder
3. We want justice
1. we are the people
2. A little bit louder
3. We want justice
4. Our people
6. Mobilized Morphemes
Words on paper whose wealth weighs heavily
On me secretly plot to overthrow my motivation
The implication being that I’m going nowhere fast
And that all I know is procrastination
Yet my words come with a fury few can resist
And my words come with the fury of a raised fist
My few choice words hold value far beyond any
Assimilated structure of sentences sent out to sedate
Me, so that being said allow me to embed a sequence
Of counter attack conversations conveying solidarity
Into your dome denouncing the dastardly deeds
That demand my defeat
I refuse to lose, linguistically speaking my verbal attacks
Stem from mobilized morphemes and simple syntax
My thoughts hold permanent value in the hood
Like nick nacks and dime sacks
How then can I feel as though these words are free
You see, I’m not with that my words will travel
Down trails that would derail most others
No glamour in capturing the gutter
But this is my life and I will have no other
There’s order and structure to these stanzas, like soldiers
Set to lay their lives for the bettering of our seeds
Defending the front lines forward thinking
Fighting for a just cause,
From the heart not just for applause
For what can be not for what was
7. HerStory
She was and is a drop in the bucket,
Her story told time and time again,
Now, as I take you down a path that few ponder
Allow the pen to bleed through the paper
She was packing the last of her few belongings
Somewhere beyond yonder, she silently
Ponders with a heavy heart
“Its been many years now since
Fam and me done been torn apart”
From somewhere South of Mexico,
But to them it is all the same
Travelers with no identity, nationality
Or so much as a first name,
Hitchhiked in Guatemala, bussed it in Chiapas
Eventually stole a ride on the roof of a freight train
Evading not just la migra, but
Kidnappers, drug smugglers, thieves’ killers and placas
We’ll never come close to understanding her pain
As she traveled north to see her husband and sons once again,
Through the arduous journey she kept thinking
“Lord please protect and allow no one to hurt me”
Sirens sound off and everyone runs
Out come the badges, dogs and the guns
All of this due to lack of documentation and access to funds
She runs and she runs and she somehow manages to get away
When she catches her breath she kneels and she prays
“Good Lord thank you for letting me live to see another day”
Closer and closer, the journey gets shorter
She can see and damn near taste that God forsaken border
Pops rejoices as he tells kids, “Mom is almost home”
Merely children when they last saw her, now they’re full grown
Eager to show mom that they can stand on their own
They stood the test of time and now the time has come
Off pops goes to greet, hold and finally laugh with his beloved better half
He has the cash safely stored and ready to redeem
It all happened so fast that is seemed like a dream
Can’t wait to wrap his arms around boo and finally say face to face
“How I’ve missed you” the pollero tells him, “Wait for the phone call
I’ll tell you where we’re making the exchange”
Husband begins to think, “ey yo - something feels God awful strange”
He waits for the phone call to finally come in
Pollero says, “ Disculpa plebe, damn, where do I begin?”
He tells the story and at the end says to him, “I’m really very sorry”
Somewhere in the desert, it was dehydration
But really it was from not having proper documentation
In a tearful sorrow, husband wonders what he’ll tell his kids tomorrow
“Good lord tell me, why you chose me?
Could you not find it in your heart
To show my family a little bit of sympathy?”
In anguish torment and pain
He identifies a woman’s body, Jane Doe no name
Pops enters the house filled with tears and grief,
Telling his seeds;
“I spent the money for mom on a one way plane ticket,
Wooden casket and funeral wreath”
8. This One Time
I know this one swine
A onetime that I’ll never forget
From this one time when
We got pulled over for no good reason
I’mma make this fictitious tale real son
Can’t be in Westwood bald at night in a nice car
He mean mugged us and made his move
Dude was on one with something on his mind
That he had to prove,
Fucking aint right but that night we were on his block
Lights came on and we were told to stop
Being stared at by student faces that all seemed white
Sat our asses on the curve
The nerve of this power trippin punk
Trick ass foo didn’t even ask if he could pop the trunk
This officer of the peace this law breaking chump
Was just doing his job,
Didn’t even mention anything about probable cause
No rights read and instead there we sat
Watching him take our stashed sack
Who’s the teacher who’s the clown
Us being pulled over? Or the fact that
The swine searching us was brown?
I know this one swine
A onetime that I’ll never forget
From this one time when I told a cop,
Watch one day as you go about your business
You’ll bear will witness
The power of hood accountability
How in certain communities observing
You is our responsibility, looked at me
Already wanting to check I.D.
I said I’m simply implying that
You being an agent of the law
Gives us the right to oversee
What you do, that shouldn’t be something new
But that foo wasn’t having it
He was no longer just being entertained
So I had to ask straight up if I was being detained
He said I wasn’t so I peddled away
Next thing I know I see the car search light
Pointed in my direction
You mean to tell me I can’t even ride
my bike in peace at night without raising suspicion?
The situation seemed silly yet was serious as can be
Get off the bike! And I’m like, “Yo… seriously?”
Next thing I know my face is on the floor
Asking if I have a rap sheet, and me asking
Why I have to be chest down on the concrete
Back then no one was around to make sure
Protocol and procedures were taken
But for that swine that I remember from that one time
I say, Cop Watch the neighborhood observes
Especially at night and we reserve the right
To make sure there’s community oversight
Because there will always be a swine
That reminds me of a onetime that I met this one time
That constantly loves to purposely step out of line
On the beat acting all like, “The World Is Mine”
No, that’s not how it’s going to go
When you step out of line we’ll be there
To let you know, you’re under the scrutiny of the people
Not afraid to expose your hidden evils
So watch cop don’t trip if you get caught slipping by
Your neighborhood cop watch
More than a camera it’s an effective tool
New school method of accountability
To measure your capability to serve and protect
So step off, do your job and show some respect
They’re just there to make sure you’re crooked ass
Comes correct
9. Wussup OG (Cal -Fresh pt. 2)
Wussup OG, what it do, what it be?
I see you still in line for them county services
stemming from that EBT
Its hotter than a mug and aint even eight
I cant wait to get in there and talk to my damn worker
I been in line for too long, this routine’s every six months
We all talk shit, don’t nobody front,
But imma damn sure work her
Treating us like the bare minimum is all we want
The way these folks treat me makes me wanna quit
But I cant do that cuss that just means
I gotta start right back, so fuck it where do I sit?
What’s our exercise today?
Ol’ lady looking at us like we’ve never had a resume
Just as important as checking our spelling
Is acknowledging that half of the folks in here
Are convicted felons
But that don’t mean we don’t got nothing in our melons
Say OG, you seen the way they treated ol’ boy
They hated on him just cuss the teacher was annoyed
Her supervisor be tripping like it was prison protocol
Rent a cop ass security strapped up and feeling real tall
I heard the airport is forever hiring and that hustles legit
The kinda job you done never ever wanna quit
I got a connect that can hook it up with the umm, license to be strapped
Get you a security job, cus its not like you’re really gonna get capped
Because my boy, its either that, the robbery or flipping that crack
I been” in” homey and to tell you the truth I don’t wanna go back
After awhile this shit begins to visibly take a toll
Damn AND this Lady hasn’t even taken roll?
While one is sleepy and begins to have doubts
The one right next to him says fuck this and quietly dashes out
Man this lady sure does know how to break us down
Acting like most of us haven’t been around
Ma’am, I disagree with all do respect
But practice tells us some of your theory just aint correct
Cus real talk, ma’am you don’t see what I see
Godamn it, whens this shit over, I really need to burn some trees
AND I gotta make sure I don’t bump into any enemies
They make it seem like were living lavish off that GR
I want a job homie, what? You don’t think im trying to go far?
Please! Oh here comes this rentacop again coming to talk shit
Turn your phone off homey before he throws a fit
They got a rookie on the rounds that thinks it’s the pen
And I swear im talking shit if he acts up again
By the way, whens that clothing allowance coming in?
I don’t know my boy, but as soon as it does
We’re all getting into some sin!
10. My Weapon
My weapon is the written word
I live partake observe and have the nerve
To recollect, my duty is to protect
And put the past into perspective
Not to get too spiritual but what I do
Is for the next seven generations
And all my relatives, the brilliance
Lies in truth told through these tales
That break barriers, taking you from the
Hood to the barrio, bold, mind baffling,
Seductive sentences secretive stories
That come to life and talk
Streets you might not otherwise walk
Not just the wealth but the warriors,
The woundead, tales of those
That up and fled, words that border
On the brink of a vital cycle
Meant for regulated survival
Common stories that hit like the bible
My weapon withstands withdrawals
They’ve been everywhere
Yet still get a stare, words that dare
Defy the norm, and Good Lord
Can these words weather any storm!
For you see these words can take any form
And are therefore formulated to function
In any environmental format
From the most detailed to the most essential
My word is my weapon because
My thoughts are multidimensional
Meditative, always intentional
Interracial, inter-generational
Integral fragments that help
Formulate and articulate
The often overlooked focus
We forget that the focal point is nonfiction
And in a half fake way I’ll let you feel, for real
I’m here to fill pages up with elaborate experiences
Engage the reader, take them to the root
To get a reaction
No poet laureate but literature is my livelihood
The likelihood of acknowledgment is low
But if this be the bottom from here I grow
I can’t describe each and every social problem
Can’t solve them, but for integrities sake
It would be a disservice not to involve them
The pattern was created in an organic manner
Attention to detail because every last detail matters.
11. Daily Bustle
Walk, step, run, dip-
where they going all day?
Concrete trees new buildings abandoned buildings
The lady on her daily mandado, the dudes doing their thing
The lady cashes in her lottery ticket
OG already bought 2 bags of ice and copped two 24 packs
Colt45 and Olde E, on the phone with the party
Talking bout,” what ol' girl want? the girl, ol girl
What did she... listen man, I said what did she want?”
(She wanted cheap wine)
Walk, cross the street the kids get outta school
There goes our future, I once was one of'em,
They'll be alright, Hope
There goes the guy that slangs raspados
Posted waiting under the shade by the school
His clients trickle out,
Out the van the lady slangs shampoos, hair gel and soaps
These are south central hustles this is south central hope
Pay your phone, choose a corner
Liquor, mini market, computer repair
Dispensary, maquiladora, tienda, swap meet
Wino, quiet economies, factories
Clogged arteries, recreational center, library
The homies posted on the block,
Don't cross out my hood and I won't cross out yours
Mexican bars, second hand store
Video rental, floreria, botanica
Auto repair, recycle center
The kid walks with his girlfriend
The gangster demands respect
Racial tension, black love brown pride,
El mecanico, la Doña, beauty salon
Closed Christian churches
Coordinated subculture
Movers, shakers, second generations
2 Pom Poms for a dollar, Murray’s Pomade
Moco de Gorila
Louisiana, Churches, Panda express
Working classy fashion, fashion forward
Future entrepreneurs
108, 105, 81, 55, 53, 102, 204, 40, 45
Taco trucks, hand the homie my change
Caribbean cuisines, bomb Belizean
Don’t even worry about the air we're breathing
Daily bustle, plenty of lives with direction and meaning
Did I mention the nurse on the bus,
The one dude that's down and out but not defeated
The hood homie that understands the "respect" head nod
Gossip, money always manages to make the rounds
Daily dialogue, the dealings of the block
Wilding out while working on our wrongs
And then a guy on a bike hands you a card
Taxi on one side lawyer on the other
Business as usual at the barber shop
Streets filled with blunt fill
Beautification not far behind
Survival is essential and so is the grind
Fewer and fewer remain blind
Eyes open
It takes a village, together
We mend the broken
This is where we landed
May not have been intentionally chosen
But we remain and in telling our story
We can’t help but explain the joy
And damn near feel the pain
Everyone running errands
The righteous and those in the wrong
This graffiti gives buildings life
Every locale becomes an episode
Three for five phone cards to call the motherland
Spanish music, soul music, rap
And as is customary, cop
Quietly making the rounds
Never can tell what goes on around here
Steel reserve for their shaky nerves
And never forget you reserve the right to remain silent
Woes explained if given enough time to vent
Loose cigarettes, plenty of Jesus
In case you should need to repent
Hurry up before we miss our bus
Oh missed it, there it went,
Long story short,
This is for the most part,
How our time is spent,
South Central.
