Tony’s Poem (a reminder for a spirit who does so much for so many, for me. and for himself)

mah grandpa’s hands were hard

moved over in soil, experience,and living.

labor- ah learned from him- meant the turning of soft exteriors to callaces.

men have callaces

an ah kept dat

hurt mahself- deliberately to reach this one available marker of manhood. 


we don’t trust folk who give handshakes wid de same essence of dead fish

nor folk wid fake flowers

nor a person who don’t know their way round a kitchen too much. 

we good on giving interaction ta dem. 


men have callaces

labor means callaces

oppression an’ neglect breed rough callaces


your hands was soft when we first came to meet- is still soft now.

an ah- in truth- did pray protection ‘gainst someone who may be a fair weather friend.


sometimes rhetoric fails us an’ we have ta see folk through heart more than habit.


you’re hands are still soft

still young

dey hold madness like a well worn dress.

an’ dey do brilliant work- wid love and fruit

both in Babylon an’ in dream, your hands create.

dey beat at wat is.

demandin’ decency, dignity, real rights,housing, and love. 


you’ve got hands capable of graspin’ truth.


wat is known from older times is wisdom- in abundance an’ in bits

wat is know from older times is foundation

an’ base, part,

it ain’t completion.


we know that ta be as true as dere is sun. 

we here- becoming new ancestors- wid whole other bits


hands is doing. 

soft an’ hard.


wat happens in de dark- as voices set in on us,

de white specs tease, an’ holding arms make might desires- 

is doing.

we clasp wet palms past stomach pains


turning acids an other shadow thoughts. 


we become tears

older times called us weaker fo dat.

still- dey is doing.


wat happens when our vibrations find home an’ name wid one another

– as wat little comfort can be can be made- is

an’ we define de space we hold.

souls tickling. 


dat is doing

is courage

is human

is everything!


an’ ah is glad ta have met you friend,

dis reality is sometimes a short stop fo in a spirit journey fo real faggots, de way we is 

dis reality is sometimes showin’ us more disaster than ceremony-

cause real faggots see so much. 

we see till de only real thing is ta rip out our hearts an’ eyes an see nothing- at de ends of pipes, or tips of condoms.


dat’s why we do.

why we must promise ta always remind each other ta do. 

ta keep sight

our feelin’ mire is de most painful blessing we has.


our emotions is vast

is immense

is like de great movings-

de bring us ta wat older generations did.

we do.

our emotions, de praxis of learnin’ ta love despite wat is

an’ wat de walls patriarchy has erected, 

dat very queer thing is doing.


real faggots live to be any age between 1 month an’ 47 years 

an’ ah feel mighty blessed ta be here wid you.


ah felt softness, tears, life blood, an’ beauty after ah held your hand past introductions. 

an ah will love you always- in every dimension an’ on every moon possible.


an ah is grateful always-

for wat you do fo me

an’ yourself.

fo wat ah do

fo wat you’ve taught me through sheer existence. 


cause dats wat we do. . .

we do.


we is de dialectics of soft hands an’ callaces

we is real faggots, chantin’ down Babylon

wid life, action, an glitter

we is flowers

remindin’ de less enlightened wat beauty being can be


an’ in dat is our greatest act. 


in de process of simply breathin’ 

we give life beyond wat may be visible most times. 


but dat don’t make wrong wat is truth

learnin’ ta love all of wat we is- have been an’ will be-

dats wat we do. 





morning thoughts on being a “have not” and what power is.

we are dealing with evil.

the society in which we live is a wicked one- let there be no doubt. in a socety built on the creation of classes of “have nots”being exploited, drained, and killed by a wealthy 1% of the population, there can only be suffering. in capitalism there is only room for this kind of order- because monopoly means that there is a singular power controlling industries and profitting. there can never be a comprimise between the rulers of this world and the workers. there can only be a total shift, in which the workers and those neglected and shut out of formal “wage slavery” (aka a 9 to 5) take back their power and run the society for themselves. the oppressed must use their power to destory hierarchy and the ideas that it necessitates.

but what is “power”? and where is it? how do they have it and we dont?

the capitalist/ 1%/ rulers of this world have material power. money means power and is protected by force. the systems of government seek to care only for the wealthy while holding up the illusion of working for us all. but anyone looking closely enough will see the true nature of our “representatives”. their true faces- mostly white, owners of industry. police protect these representatives and the laws that they create. and most of the oppressed population believes these laws because we belive in “fairness”, “democracy” and the like- even though it is never in play. Where is there democracy when millions of Africans were stolen for labor, killed, raped, and tortured in the creation of this land? Where is there democracy when the native population of the Americas was wiped out to make space for the colonial European power and forced onto small pockets of the lands their ancestors thrived and dreamt on for generations? Where is there democracy when this imperial land starves other nations and forces them into slave-like labor for capitalist gain? Where is there democracy when the prison system of this country houses a majority black and brown population while bodies of armed men, given the “right” to protect us, murder us for sport? Where is there democracy when the majority of this country is dying unnecessary because of lack of access to basic health care, healthy food, and work?

there is none. there is only a dreamed illusion that supports this “democracy” and guns that defend it. “democracy” in this reality is a dangerous lie.

in creating a class system- it is important to destroy the self confidence and self fullfillment of those who will make up the lower classes. it happens all the time in this world. folks are starved, told their bodies are ugly and unworthy, given food that is dangerous to eat and wears down the body (simultaneiously destorying the spirit)- folks are given scraps of jobs (and told to be greatful because everyone else is unemployed or jailed), and given guilt- the oppressed are blamed for their condition. “you are poor/ unsuccessful, because you aren’t working hard enough, because you aren’t playing the game, because you are . . . “

all the while, the media dictates what the picture of success is- shifting every so often to include a smaller amount of tokens. (faces of oppressed populations that will help maintain the illusion of fairness- that everyone can succeed) the oppressed are being sold a pipe dream, because now to fill the void of what they/ we ,suppossedly, don’t have (“beauty”, “wealth”, “health”, etc. . .), the oppressed are told to buy their healing (get surgery, buy more clothes, purchase the shiny/ updated versions of that indigenous healing that the colonizers demeaned and destroyed) or to numb it through addiction- to food, to drugs (“legal” and “illegal”), to violence, to escapism via television or videogames, to sleep, to sex, to domination (esp in the case of working men and men of color, the society teaches you to take your power back through controlling what you can- your interactions , your children and partners, your friends)

all of this creating unhealthy dependancies and ideas of these things.

the aim/ goal in all of this is still the takng of power.

the oppressed are having their power stripped by being told that it doesn’t lie inside themselves. 

the oppressed are starved. but not powerless.

chanting down this Babylon means looking inside ourselves for what can be healing- and leaning on one another when we feel low or destructive (self and otherwise). the methods of healing and growing our own gardens are being pronounced as “new”, “trendy”, or otherwise “a thing of privilege” are ancient and ours. we, the oppressed, created them. we knew how to hold earth and breathe life before it was called “organic”. we knew the multiple beauties in our bodies before we were called fat and we had ways of harvesting food that would produce health and longevity. we created- in free time and healed through that.

part of the “power” that has been stripped from us ain’t really gone. its just been hid behind distraction.

  “i believe i have inside of me everything that i need to live a bountiful life. with all the love inside of me i will stand as tall as the tallest tree.” – celie, “the color purple”

part of that power is in self love and “actualization” and community. and it is hard to cultivate because we are surrounded by conditions that are of opposite intentions but we must seek it. we must use our lives to build community strong enough to sustain us and we must talk about the lies being fed and how to undo them through truth and establishing centers of power for ourselves where everyone is growing and knowledge isn’t specialized and held by a “boss”. we must all be workers that build together and share in the bounty of our work together. and we have to tell one another that we are beautiful- especially when we feel low because that is how we gain power. we gain it by living for ourselves and our community. we gain it by healing and living for our healing. we gain it by questioning our thoughts and our actions. we gain it by seeking life outside of these parameters given. 

“we have all hu…

“we have all hurt someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. we have all loved someone tremendously, whether by intent or accident. it is an intrinsic human trait, and a deep responsibility, i think, to be an organ and a blade. but, learning to forgive ourselves and others because we have not chosen wisely is what makes us most human. we make horrible mistakes. it’s how we learn. we breathe love. it’s how we learn. and it is inevitable.”

n. waheed

A Note of Intention

and maybe at the end of this sickness 

we can find some time to unwrap just what it is we have been left with. 

maybe witches, with their tools and such

can aid us in discovering 

that which was made inaccessable to us.


i am only here 

pleading my case outloud

to whoever would decide it was them time to hear.


i want things for us 

like open fields

clapsed hands 

love notes

spring walks

and autumn lays.

i want tremedous shake ups

lak revolution.

the end of money

re-enstatement of love



and free sex,

i want us to have the free-est sex.

and for it to mean nothing to anyone but us.

because it makes us happy. 


and maybe i know how get to that.

maybe some action leading there can be this note of intention. 


and hope for better tomorrows. 

intentions fo de moon.

release. the last three weeks have been traumatic but i am still here. dis ole world ain’t done wit me and today ah woke up feeling alot of feelins sheddin’ off of me. de full moon means release- means freedom from the chains/trials/triumphs/and occurrences of de last cycle. i feel dat and im finna take mah fleshsy self somewhere, wid all of nature and spirits in similar circumstance, and breathe.

in this spirit, ah want to make some intentions to follow.


de most important person in this life to focus on is me. ah am de only one who has to live wid mahself and mah decision. any political process ah am apart of depends on mah healthiness, in part, to succeed. any relations ah involve mahself in depend on me, in part, to succeed. ah want to be honest wid mah-self and mah feelins’. Speak dat truth and move in it. Find a path to place mah self on and live it.


movings always occur. ah should do well to understand dis to an extent. ah want to show loved ones dat ah love them- through good deed and honest words. we mus say “ah love you” while folks is alive. and we mus check ourselves and our friends when thangs are out of whack or dere is abuse.


in other times, ah spent a great deal of energy on findin’ a man which would hold me and love me. dat kinda relation is important but not primary. they who will love you, will come (and probably go too) if we ain’t right in ourselves, and our mission on this planet, then we have nothin’ to offer a partner but “clinginess” and dependence on dem to bring yo life meaning.


ah need to create, complete, and compete. ah want to push mah-self to become a working artist and also a content one. to be published but also satisfied wit de work ah put out. “revolution” is de word of de day and ah want mah art to reflect and speak to dat. we, as artist, have a responsibility to speak for truth through our work. to uplift and enlighten.


living-loving-fighting-creating all depends on my health. ah want to treat mah body wit de respect it deserves.

dat nite feelin’

loneliness aint bein’ alone. its lak an ole’ shroud of misery wrapped and tucked about. I been at mah loneliest in the company of fine men and friends- not just in mah room. And on the contrary, i dun been at mah most fulfilled wid myself. dis nite time feelin’ might last longer than i desire but it ain’t a forever thing. de ole shroud will unravel wid time and de building of a better me. one which can look in the mirror and smile on what it sees- truly.

Things I Done.

i dun moved passed the mourning of flesh beneath the skin that now slightly hangs about

in anticipation of the tightening that comes with movement.

and I dun gone through some dancing notions about suicide and giving up on the life worth living

the fight i still got to give

the people

like dat conquering lion riding

and me as apart of the ceremony


this disease has made things clearer than before

made them into real things

now no longer abstract

i feel as though i know something more


my time here has always been short

no fretting there or crocodile tears.

i carry a years worth of sundays for this world

a flower i have to give


my body has felt worse

will and might makes it better

intention makes it strong

powerful enough to accept the embrace of love ive missed


my mind is sharp

ready to be put to task

for liberation. for my people. for our universe


I no longer have time to cry over how i’ve done myself or how i been done.

cause i have a deeper love




and molding


And this is a spell i cast for myself tonight.

in spite of the day that has been

and because of those to come.