man i can't wait to get out of school!!! i'm so tired of all this BS. i need to finish this book and publish it and tour. every day it is another new thing. FRIDAY COME NOW!!! please!!!

middle of long week
overwhelmed underpaid tired
please save me friday



my bad folks i've been on the low not really but just away from a computer for the weekend. it was an exciting jawn, starting with my workshop at bronx prep. it is an amazing school maybe i'll be there next year. the kids were amazing! big shout to my group writing about where they from and our america. also got the chance to meet divinity and boogie. really cool poets and chill people. so thanks to everyone involved with that event. from there i kicked it with nick and juma watching the games (go uconn i need this money). i ended up that night eating at amy ruth's @ 116th and lenox.

the next day i went to el museo del barrio for their moma latin america exhibit amazing amazing. wilfredo larn, siquieros collective suicide among others was the bomb. then i went to jimmy's uptown to eat. GREAT!!
this week i'm just trying to get to friday as always. but next week is spring break!!!! milhouse style scream. just to get away from my school will be beautiful.

so yall stay up say your prayers eat your vitamins believe in God and pray for the knicks to make the playoffs. i'll holla....ant


word what it is peoples. friday has finally arrived just on time. today i'll be going to my chapter's party @ columbia university. check them out www.columbia.edu/cu/fia brothers of Ryde or Die Mu doing big things. besides that just kicking with my girl chilling feeling real good now. one more week until vacation from school!!! thank the lord because i'm tired of school. real talk i've been going since i was 3 years old. this is the 20th anniversary since the beginning of my education at the blue door of 7 corners day care. damn. a long way since 1984.

i gots some detention to give out today. i'm trying to minimize that but if i'm trying to talk to you and you don't listen simply put we gots to chill. i'm tired of being frustrated.

holla folks. talk to ya hopefully over the weekend. have a good one.



what's poppin folks. another thursday, another day of crazy kids. i'm blessed to have the chance to teach kids writing but if kids don't want to write it becomes very difficult for me to stay enthusiastic about it. that being said this saturday i will be going to bronx prep for a workshop for kids that actually want to be writing on a saturday. just lets me know what's important and where i need to be. i would love to be a teaching artist. one who goes around and does different workshops for schools. right now i'm going into classes for students who don't even want to write and struggling screaming at them to stop running around sit down shut up and try to listen for 5 minutes. it gets frustrating to say the least. at least tomorrow is friday and there will be a huge party at columbia. the weekend is what i live for.

april will be a good month. the 5th (upstate) and 12th (bar 13) and 16th (upstate) will all be happening. april 20-21st i'm still unclear on.

check out these sites.


check out my web homies show em some love tell em you got there from here. tell a friend to tell a friend. folks this is only gonna be as live as you want it to be. the more exposure, more gigs, more gigs, more poetry......holla at me anthony@undercoverent.com

little throwback jawn real quick because i talked to this person recently ...congrats and stay up....

Who says those things?

Who says those things
that run through your hair
like wind chilling
your buttered toast skin
while warm hearts melt away
snowy white winterland frost

I do
Standing alone
with a biting breeze on the Great Lawn
of my soul I say
I love you
with every foggy breath of what’s left

What’s right now
was never thought of
on each twilight ringing
phone call that said
@sshole I love you
Don’t ever let me go
before Hello and after Peace

Who says those things?
Everything happens for a reason
Silent treatment and peekaboo tears
on full moons follow treason
in 4 seasons of sunsets smiles shining
defining for each other
young and love

On our cloud
we were above time
buying it with the change
in our pockets
Penny for your thoughts
Nickel for your kiss
Dime for your heart

This was not a layaway or 50% off sale
Failure was not the option
Every story that ends begins
once upon a time
where stars aligned and horoscopes
maybe give one hope

But who says those things?
You made me sing
dance move myself
to your slow jam heartbeat
You have me on my feet
Who else can we meet?

Who says those things?
I do
Because this is what I miss

Anthony Morales


what's really folks, my bad i did not do an update yesterday. i took yesterday off from work just to chill out. it was such a hectic weekend i definitely did not have much of one. so i needed to relax and as always whenever you are at home, time flies but at work it drags slowly. looking at the calendar makes me realize i have about 6 weeks until everything is due (final papers, projects). i will miss many more days until that stuff is done. after i graduate i think life is supposed to get more manageable but i don't know. wish me luck yall and as always if you need to communicate with me send me a shout at anthony@undercoverent.com

peace ant


what's poppin folks...will it ever get warm? this weekend was so cold!! big shout out to the alpha chapter of phi iota alpha in rpi for their 105th anniversary. i was the poet for the event and it was amazing! i was able to meet a bunch of people i had never met and things were so cool. thanks to everyone especially those who bought my book (big up to sharon). thanks to andy and greg for providing the transportation and funny times in the car.

besides that my two teams in the ncaas got bumped - manhattan and seton hall. shouts to andre barrett from story ave doing it way big.

birthday shout to juma waugh the muscle behind undercoverent.com.

word up yall these next three months are gonna be tough. somehow i gotta finish up TC, perform at crazy places, keep going to teach and finding a way to chill. hectic times for the kid.

here goes some thoughts:

“To accept one’s past - one’s history - is not the same as drowning in it, it is learning how to use it.” -unknown quote, just sum sh*t I read

You can take the person out the ghetto but you can’t take the ghetto out the person. I’ve been to a typical New England Boarding School - Andover - and an Ivy League institution - Columbia University - and I still feel like if I go crazy tomorrow, you will find me on a corner or near a park’s benches - zoned out mumbling or shouting one of my poems. Not that my sh*t is classic material that you can mouth off & people will finish your sentences, but to me it gets no realer because I know everything that I write about.

We need to put some type of order to the chaos of everyday living & I do that by bridging the gaping gaps left by my lower miseducation. I need to see life happening while routine is in place. Mostly everyone’s past is fractured in some hairline or compound way. The real question is how do we place the jagged edges back together? Overlap is sometimes okay but we don’t want no black holes we can’t return from either.

Before we can accept our oppressors, we must see ourselves purely and examine the ways we’ve been tainted. Me - by this point all the good/bad parts are together blurred into non descript emotion that causes me sometimes to feel frozen & I be shivering in the sun. I wonder how I even have the language to tell you this pain. That saying it would have been better to be blind than to see the ugly realness of reality - I do be feeling that way because so many folks I see not even questioning their positions with smiles on their faces while I wallow in empty satisfaction sulking in silence with a chorus of apathetic apologies in hushed harsh tones.

We use history like Dutches unwrap split discard the extra & roll it just right so that we can pull for a while. The Puerto Rican Day Parade is beautiful some don’t even know what the place is or looks like. All we know are coquis coquitos chupacabras chuletas bloody battered bochinche pernil PR Air Force 1s & you can find us screaming Que Bonita Bandera & WEPA til we lose our voices.

The future? That’s a heavy question but let’s hope the answer is a beautiful canela baby eyes like midnite at la playa climbing out of its colonial crib with bars crawling towards the sunset over the projects reaching for the moon while smiling.

-Morales, 2004


word...yesterday was one of those days...all snowy wet rain nasty... .i cooked my first pollo guisado and i just had my leftovers...very good..i'm in much better spirits than yesterday....can't take that back. knicks won a game that shouldn't have been that tough. me today i'm chilling in the bx my girl made me a cake that i will take down later...things are going...til friday that daily grind....peace yall


Tiene phosphoro
I need a light to spark this
Right hm mmm that’s it

Stop actin so tuff
Didn’t you ever cry once
After smoking blunts?

Deep haikus

The small universe
Does not allow me to see
Around our problems

Some people wonder
Why I am so strange they do
Not know how I feel

Things start to warm up
Just a little bit for now
Next day might be cold

Remember losing
My two front teeth I was scared
Then I stopped crying

What are you doing?
You need to ask that question
Alone if you can

Still feel chill in breeze
When its calm still be on point
If not might be gone


today i'm gonna try to cook pollo guisao...it should be good i'll let you know how it goes....

peace ant

ps very fitting poem considering last nite....

Haze Hi/Lo

eyes glazed
& red
from too many
blunts to the head

lids heavy
neck nod
all that purp smoke
thought you saw God

no ill fitted
crisp white tee
brand new kicks
dipped out gear

will make
you be
what you
could have been

-Morales, 2004


what's good peoples? this weekend was the jumpoff for many reasons. friday night nuyorican spotlight. i tore it down!! it felt good to chill and be able to get back in the game. i wish i had been able to record the night so if anyone has a copy please holla at me. sat night tribute to the rev at the bronx river arts center. this i do have on tape. shouts to the acentos poets el extreme and everyone i met that night. a very festive evening. this weekend was positive for the opportunities i had but also because the momentum is rolling. 2004 is in full effect right now.

sopranos was good right? i love it so much but then i hate that i have to wait til next week to get my fix. uncle junior is gonna get popped..just my prediction.

i got spring break from classes so i'll be kicking it all week. but i still have to come into work. will definitely be kicking it with ms. baker. i was such a fool once upon a time (still am) but i'm lucky and blessed. thank you.

i think and hope folks are looking at this. let me know send me a shout.

peace ant

Diversity Haiku

Usually only
Speck of sazon in the whole
Porcelain plate white rice

Sadness is black
It smells like burnt chicken & pegao
It looks like street corners after storms
It tastes like $1 menu when you got no other choices
It feels like teeth throbbin & dull headaches
Sadness is Babita not goin back to her isla
before she passes.

-Morales, 2004


que pasa peoples. my heart goes out to all those affected in spain. i spent time in spain 1997 and it was an amazing experience. eta was real out there when i was there, but no where to this level. craziness in the world. my brother's theory lies in the northwoods documents. check out buzzflash.com, michaelmoore.com, commondreams.org for some real news on this whole situation. god bless.

yesterday i went to check out another school in the bronx 180th and mapes right off of southern blvd. it was a great chance to see something different than what i'm currently going through. it shows that given the right chance to succeed, children can excel. we'll see how that works out.

after that, just rode back to the cribs, kicked it with moms, who i hadn't seen in a week. everything is good.

tonight, mad last minute i know, i'll be the featured poet at the nuyorican poets' cafe at 3rd btw b+c ave. everything starts at like 10. stop by if you've never been there before guaranteed to be a good time. i haven't rocked at the nuyo for a while. i am the last fresh poet they named and it always feels good to come back home where it all started. god how far i've come since i was that 17 yr old kid reading a poem in the open room at like 2 in the morning about my parent's breakup.

You move me like air
on roofs stars close touch heaven
with soft kisses on lips

if you around give me a shout tonite. the kid should be in classic form.

peace ant


ars poetica

ARS POETICA (for Pablo Neruda)

Between skyscraper dark alleys
wide open wilderness valleys
summer’s thick sweat
winter’s deep shiver

my heart hides in misty shadows of ash colored lungs
behind a shaking rib cage vest
delicate to absorb frustrated fist pounding
jagged breezes sharply cutting at acute angles
secrets trapped in dimly lit project window
unknown combination locks rusted

for each crystallized snowflake tear that plunges
for every forgotten word smile
I meditate in remembrance hoping
these drifting thoughts are déjà vu

like summoning celestial ancestors
twilight conversations bullshitting
about tomorrow’s uncertainty

they once told me
if morning’s over easy sun smiles
then we can wink back

inside jokes with the sky
make flowers different tints

scattered remnants of happilyeverafter stir
in disturbed puddles
quiet waves crash cracked concrete

shattered mirror gives distorted reflection
no compliments
there you are simply

como pernil en un cubano

could I rhyme this
to make it more musical

does it need to be

truth prefers to be whispered
away from orange street spot lights


Puerto Rico’s paralysis
caused that plane trip two suitcases
full of guayaberas and congas

My last name is Morales
more or less of the chicken soup
doesn’t matter when you want none

Phone home at telefonica
when Verizon’s not on the horizon
Infinite rights fly musical kites
cutting cloud Dutch Master

Sky’s falling like chicken little said
Alley cats and stray dogs pouring
Rain Rain Rain go away
Rain Rain Rain go away

so i can come out and play another day
Puddle puzzle pieces
muzzle dollar & dream lotto mottos

Broken windows closed doors
Process is triangle rest lah spot to cornerstore

Buy nickel bags of weed
Throw the seeds in the ashtray
Hope one day they’ll grow like
weeds in vacant lots blowing to & fro

Depends on if the sun’s shining
Clouds got silver linings
Story books happy endings
Ghettos got tomorrows
looking like yesterday’s
five o’clock shadow

Silhouette sidewalks of New York
talk bochinche and smell of seasoned
pork shoulder/Chips get colder
as temperature congeals/reveals
truth inside platano peels

Don’t slip
Or is that superstition ??

40’s blunts and hearts cause us reminiscin’
traditions of tragedies cause
apathy galaxies
and mothership’s headed
towards the black hole

Soul outta control like runaway rollercoasters
Toaster burning bagels
unable to turn table
flippin’ through cable to find

spiritual inner peace
feast at TV dinners of fools
think it this game we know the rules?

I learned in kindergarten
color outside the lines for
a more pretty picture

In Life’s coloring book
we are characters
with empty thought bubbles
thick like cotton clouds
separate each thread unique
cobwebs of soliloquies

Meditate on memory stashed on shelf
dusty self/reflection in transit train/express

many stumble on escalators of success
shoutout to my big bro, james doing big things in miami.....

Poem for Bro

“Life’s a Bitch/and then you die/that’s why I get high/because you never know/when you gonna go”….. Nas, Life’s a Bitch circa 1994

Blunt smoke traces
the city sky
while ill natured cops
cruise by
in anonymous cars

Sirens and a sudden red light
flash across the brown faces
of two headboppin
acapella poet brothers
in the cypher on 117th

The night danced
to what we could see
from our project windows
with the window guard jail bars

The fuzz questioned
their own intentions
because they bring whiteness/violence
45s and nightsticks
and all we had between us
was five bucks a Dutch and
the truth of our lyrics

So what could we do
against their power?

Te lo digo
His blood ran through my veins
and it was like that chill
that our heaters got at night
all those winters

Courtesy Professionalism
Respect splintered
our innocence
with perceived pretenses
of crimes because of the contrast
of our skin tones
with the night and day of theirs

I started reflecting
on how easy things used to be

We used to soak the sun
and smile
when we were still a family

We were the only ones in CPG
with red roses in our garden

Then Housing tore up our backyard
uprooted the grass
while the roses dried
in that same sun
we used to drink like Tropicana
in the overflowing garbage

I think of moments
like these when the wind
blows the leaves on the trees
upside down light green
clean and dry

Time flew pass us bro
and I cry with these words

because we’ve never been to Disneyland
and hugged Mickey Mouse

We used to give out pennies
at Halloween

and we used to fight
for the seat at the back of the bus

We come from those roots
Quarter waters and 50 cent coquitos

y salsa singing
on Saturday mornings
by Ma while she cleaned

Fast forward
the scene ten years
and here we are on 117th
overlooking the Newport sign on the Deegan
across and away from
Rupp’s view

while the five questions us
about smoke in the air

I go to Columbia
and bro you left your mark

We know nothing about nothing sir
we politely say to the officer

As we walk away
I say if I know anything
it’s what we’ve seen done and come from

Anthony Morales
what it is folks. yesterday was hectic. visitors, class presentation, long trek back to the bx, then sleep. when i came into work this morning i took a look at my to do list for the week and i accomplished a lot of that already. job well done ant, even though no one else will tell you that.

half.com is the bomb. you can get almost any book, cd you want for reasonable prices. why should i pay 20 dollars for a book I'm gonna read once? 5 sounds better.

got a show coming up. apr 12th monday at bar 13 in union square. one of the best poetry shows around the city, mad talent, cool people and 2 for 1 drink specials. please come through support the kid. if things are really good they might ask me back;) last time i was there, it was willie perdomo's book release. shout out to willie, true poet. incredible night and i was staggering back home.

anybody seeing this stuff? holla at me let me know what you think about this page constructive criticism is appreciated. antmoralesnyc@hotmail.com

one mi gente



what's happening peoples? just here in my school relaxing barely after a hectic morning. the dept of ed in nyc is crazy. today we had visitors coming in to particularly check out if we had evidence of student work. but then on top of that we had to give feedback by writing comments on a post it and attaching it to their papers and then give them a score of 1-4. sounds dumb? it is. waste of time where we should be teaching these kids some more.

anyways, i'm pooped. the knicks. i love them to death. but when they choke and just show no heart i'm forced to have issues with them. steph coulda won that game but where was allan houston? let's not talk about that.

this saturday i will performing at the bronx river arts center for a tribute to the rev. pedro pietri. he passed last week. his wake was an amazing spiritual experience and seeing how much love was spread made me feel good about his life and the future of nuyorican poetry. RIP to the rev and big ups to the folks i saw over there.

about to jet to lunch. probably gonna take down some pizza. if you get the chance check out palace pizza parlor on dyckman and post. really great slices.
i'll holla in a while till then stay up yall.



for those that don't know......

boricua sestina

There was a scream in Lares
heard 30 years before Nelson Miles
and his army from America
caused the Boricuas
to create la isla in the South Bronx
and El Barrio

We hear those same screams on corners of El Barrio
Revolutionary descendants of Lares
fighting cold winters of single parent welfare in the South Bronx
A foreign concept to Nelson Miles
because as of 1898 Boricuas
belonged to America

But America
never belonged to us so we made El Barrio
A concrete isla with streetlights as palm trees and Boricuas
eat tostones play dominos in front of bodegas and talk bochinche of Lares
looking at la hara like Nelson Miles
What would have happened had he landed in Hunts Point in the South Bronx?

The South Bronx
would have offered him cocotazos - the United States of Ghetto America’
way of greeting strangers like Nelson Miles
who try to put McDonald’s and Starbucks in El Barrio
Don’t they understand that café con leche tastes better from Lares?
Nobody can commercialize mountain jibaro coffee made by Boricuas

are the rainbow people and one pot of gold lands in the South Bronx
another in Chicago and wherever else Chango echoes Lares’
scream It falls on deaf ears in America
where they don’t see that El Barrio
is a product of Nelson Miles

and July 25th belonged to Nelson Miles
bringing good will for the best interests of Boricuas
Ask the viejo in front of GoodWill in El Barrio
if he remembers how he got there and he’ll say he lived in the South Bronx
went to Korea because of America
and had to burn down straw huts while getting visions of flaming bohios in Lares

He may have not heard the scream of Lares or of Nelson Miles
but he said in between in sincere gulps of 151 that America has no place for Boricuas
and his boat ride has only led to a daily 6 train ride between the South Bronx and El Barrio

copyright 2004 anthony morales
What's really good peoples?! it's your boy, anthony morales live and direct on the net trying to reach out to the world. this is gonna be my spot where i bug out try to be serious and let you know what the deals is with me. hopefully somehow someway this will be on google so that people who want to see me can.

today mar9th i got class down at Teacher's College, it should be good. I have Feminist Perspectives in Literature and I definitely need to learn a thing or infinity cuz I'm willing to admit my ignorance. I'm working on it I swear I am.

went to andover same school as president bush and his pops, and i got better grades. graduated in 98 came back to the city, went to Columbia University. went to class spit poetry got my mind free saw a bunch of shit graduated in 02 with a degree in english/latino studies. got suckered into more education and here i am now. i be complaining a lot, but truly i feel blessed to be where i'm at.

poetry. that's the main reason why yall here. biggest thing to happen to me was discovering the nuyorican poet's cafe at 17 for the grand slam 1997. sarah jones, saul williams, roger bonair agaard, jamaal st john, flaco. needless to say i was blown away. at the same time, i was reading the nuyorican canon of piri, mikey, the rev, sandy, willie, tato, and just finding out about albizu, betances, fidel, che and other beautiful people. such an innocent time. it was all a dream.

i could go through the whole story but the journalists would never holla at me. i'm sure we'll get back to how it happened.

for now list of influences, people to check out if you ain't heard of em, overall fly ish......

-big pun every song ever made (CAPITAL PUNISHMENT)
-miles davis - blue n green (GREATEST SONG EVER)
-willie where a nickel cost a dime & smoking lovely + the day hector lavoe died
-the reverend pedro pietri obviously puerto rican obituary but everything else too..(elpuertoricanembassy.org)
-heatmakerz beats - they the dipset production crew...real shit
-any primo beat - one of my life's goals is to have a primo track on my album
-james de la vega - ny sidewalk artist and muralist en el barrio
-jean grae, lauryn hill, remy martin, apani b
-mayda del valle, mariposa, sandra maria esteves, la bruja, lethy d, ejima baker
-nas illmatic
-hector lavoe, ralfi pagan, joe bataan

this is the beginning list....check out these things....

here goes some ish yall might like.....one ant ....anthony@undercoverent.com


Clason Point Haikus

Girls play Double Dutch
Dancing over spilled blunt guts
Moms screams once it’s dark

Sitting on the benches
Sunlight seeps thru midnight trees
Deez quickly move in

You can run fast now
No Social Security
Once outside the bars

Old timer plays chess
I’ll bust your ass take your bitch
Leave you without queen

Dreams are stars in cloudy
New York sky Once in a blue
Moon you’ll see one fly

Do not bite hangnails
Or toenails keep new clippings
Like butts in ashtray

Leaves hang low wind blows
Broken glass lays quiet Steam
Rises from beer grave

Alley kittens crawl
In trash can Mother has fish
Bone hanging from lips