clason point starving

Look at the 46 2 story houses
With front and back yards

Pinnacle of public housing
In the capital of the world

Should be declared a historic district
Where its residents celebrated 75th anniversary
With trips to Hot Millz for dolla dutches and frozen nemos

Hard to find fossils
When the authority sweeps and dumps all the guts
From last night’s remnants

All the highlights won’t have slo mo replays
From multiple angles just telephone
Rumors embellished louder than the next version

Unbiased according to local block legends
Who expired too soon

Believing myths created by concrete
Blocks designed to promote sense of ownership

When we don’t even lay claim
To every piece of lane twisted around itself

Wondering how the sunrise is so beautiful
In a view with sounds of shots

Fired at rivals bringing still raw beef
To late cookouts

Hardly any more hand to hand
Must employ next door neighbors as a lookout

Break off a piece of proper special package
Neighborhood watch feels sense of obligation
To maintain serenity of bake sales

Southeast part of Bronx right off Bruckner
Beginning of BX river parkway close proximity
To dirty 43rd Amadou’s spirit urges
You to identify yourself verbally

Before reaching for deadly wallet

Contained government issued ID
Will cuff you before stop and frisk

Right as about to go to the store for a glass of milk
Leaving yucky aftertaste
Where there should only be cavities
From too many penny candies

Inflated tenement wishes
Of sour power patch of land furnished

With ancient trees back to swampy farms
Western capitalism has usurped

Island vibes in a community based off
How fast and efficiently and silently is your hustle

Develop muscles from pulling your brother
Up by broken bootstraps caught in traps

Like rats who pack buddies
Searching for devil’s crusty bread
To make a warm grilled cheese
To accompany wonton soup

Sometime you gotta troop in order to find bags
Still lumpy with truth
Heavy with lies pungent odor

Grind will give
You sudor salty across beaten brow

No more pioneers holding keys to food
Western has found various ways to butcher the cow
Rack of ribs ready to be marinated

Easy to be sedated
Harder to stay awake

When your homies put you to sleep
Over the braggadocio you speak

Practice what you teach
How far can you reach

Gather as much as you can grab
Give me dap but don’t stand too close
For fear you might stab my crucial air

Needed to chew savor every molecular morsel
Mere mortals who stand in the middle

Of a seesaw trying to maintain balance
After numerous bitter shots to liver
Trying to filter all the waste

How safe is this place
Where everybody knows your name
Along with entire personal history

But if you put on that right beat
Even the most chiseled gangsta will tell you their story

Precise immaculate flow
Here we go again back to where we from

When knowledge is born
Innocence doesn’t contemplate a gun


who will believe if you don't

Reality is Duality

How does it feel looking through the veil
Mostly cloudy obscure bulletproof glass reflection

Behind fried food in front of fanatical freedom
Too much America blanca not enough brown Latinos

Yet sometimes poquito is just enough
Sofrito suave never rough as it blends the spices

Sensory memory still got the melodies
Bassline right underneath tongue right

Razor sharp redefinition rewriting
Claims to authenticity based on

Handed down horrorscopes focused
Assassinating any attempt to overcome apathy

Ever after hardly happily more like tragedy
Right before understanding shortcomings

Of country conditioned by conquerors
What is the leftover you were saving to throw away

Today’s possibility faded soon as sunset parked in sky
Night time will reveal all the details hidden

Didn’t think your stories could be written
So crowd could listen to visions

Putting you somewhere different
Paranormal position opposite of ultra regular

Must think better of self than exotic muck
Stop selling short

So quick to go broke
Where is that heavenly buck

unlearn your colonialism

What is the praxis in your practice

Sum it up to how you been acting
Professional regurgitation such elation

Can’t be waiting cooped up droopy synopsis
Of the ellipsis exhibited prohibited

Wish the moments weren’t temporary
Fleeting meeting sunnier horizons pictures

We could capture add up everything
Dying slowly but you keep living

Despite earlier warning signs keep grooving
Fortuitous timing forever shining reminded

Of simpler days when politics were background
Scandal spinning in circles to take a two step

Dizzy on the balcony
Close enough to see eagles attempting to
Attack your character antagonize pimp game

What remains how can you withstand
Why did you punch me with no regard

To my disparate emotions
No disclaimer to my party armor

Explaining why did you rage
All the excluded details minus the stink

Bring yourself to the brink imbalanced
While you still drink the blood of ancestors

Who carried you
Taught you to believe
Your sangre as religion

love is the remedy

all that love confused running out of crib
searching for what is right in front of face

in that case crib shall be the salvation
how could you never be inspired
by your son's cries

wipe the tears from your eyes
so much more to see

push him to run free
no need to hold hand will be able to run

find his purpose searching between cracks
what you  lack is proper perspective

enough to get the crowd going on your better behalf
so worldly
yet only been right around the block

homing device from
fried chicken bacon wrapped bubbleguts

so nervous who to trust
only wife and child few blesseed brothers

sharing blood experience sweat
defeat regret come up come back
like never left every day

pass life's test be the best you can
possibly raw roaring loud lion of judah

everything you do for jeem & pupa

doesn't matter how many mics you can rip
can you possibly put your son to sleep

no crying only gentle rocking
jazz serenading a lullaby to close those eyes

searching within yourself for a proper groove
no need to choose

we just wait for you
to keep breathing laughing running pointing
talking loving hugging

big baby fang
lil Amari Anthony Mohan Morales

never want you to have the burden of my shame
no chips on shoulders

violent temper tantrum
all attitudey for no exact reason

just be going through those blues
digging off that funk
without regaining inspiration for your rhythm

about to do so much
with what we provide

steaming will drop regeneration from the sky

those words you speak
will be beautiful harmony
luxury to make tomorrow shine

reminded of simpler days
when any beef was a Mami burger

how much have we grown
keep pushing the world further

don't let anyone define your identity

whenever you are stressed
love is the remedy