Thursday, July 9, 2009

Ode to Brotha Julius

How much does it cost

To buy your way out?

Living in America

As a drop out

When freedom’s on sale

it makes me want to shout!

Two million locked up,

Yup, that’s wassup

He hopes to be home

Feels so alone

Encaged in his cell

He feels like hell

So God he tells

But still no bail

His skin gettin’ pale

His family he failed


Locked in jail

All you got is mail

So many have failed

On the three strikes line


Don’t be blind

While you listen to the rhyme

Find the signs 

that make the poor bleed


Is it rules and greed

That create the need

When a cop says freeze

Get down on your knees!


A mother believes,

I hear so many screams

As the soul is squeezed

Again we deceived


Led to believe 

in a money making scheme

Another human being 

in a nightmarish dream…..


He dreams beyond these grey walls

He dreams island water falls coming out of television screen

His soul flies free through cement ceilings

And cold bars despite ancestral body slowly decaying


There is a Pinoy

In San Quenton State Pen.

Who did not know

That 31 years later

He would still be locked up

In America’s hole


Reflecting a mestizo

Yet 100% Pilipino pride

His anger kept inside

He used many brothaz to hide

The 1970’s barkada syndrome

Mixed with America’s racial warfare

Brought gangs, violence and the law

Into nanay and tatay’s home


They were the toughest Filipino gang

In San Francisco

Generations can be traced

Back to the homeland Philippines


B.N.G.- Bahala Na Gang

Give it to God

So let it be

For all eternity


A generation of Pilipino youth

Socialized in the ghettos of Manila

Socialized in Philippine provinces

Now Socialized in U.S. streets

As menaces to society


The heart beat was raging

In an indigenous craze

In ancient times,

These youth would be the brave warriors of the tribe!

So the gang, the barkada

Brought this indigenous rage

To modern reason


Disenfranchised youth started believing

They were a part of something higher than themselves,

Higher than the intolerant forces

That were belittling their looks,

Their accents,

Their sense of being.

But with guns, drugs and a lack of guidance,

The family turned to tragedy

Drowning in the corruption

Of America’s devious suction

of youthful energy and intelligence



Someone dead


A coffin in the dirt

And a Pinoy in San Quneton State Pen.

Realizing it all wasn’t worth shit!


So 31 years later

He’s still alive,

Went through street and prison rumbles,

5 foot 3 possessing the heart of a lion

To still be left standing


He works with the Squires program

O.G. lifers guiding the new wave of young

And locked up casualties of America’s

on-going domestic war

He teaches them about spirituality

And encourages their rehabilitation

Through hard work and education


He didn’t have an elder growing up,

So now he’s an elder despite being locked up


Free Julius, so he can finally go home

with his family and community


(All Rights Reserved. Copyrighted Material. kilusan1898)

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