I’ve had a busy month, no time to post. But I’m back again with a poem about the power of words. Words will not be enough but no one thing will ever be. It’s all connected: our struggles, our liberation, and our future.

What are words?

In the poetics of


How do I fight

with the only weapon I know.

Words strung across


Fires brim at the


turns into arrows

to light a path

towards heavy explosions

shake my body

souls tremble

feels like liberation spilling

through my veins

through words.

What are words?

In the theory of



a funeral

The following was written in memory of a persyn who was (one of the hundreds) murdered by the police earlier this year. The institutions of policing and prisons in Amerika is part of the (neo)liberal political agenda of capitalism and democracy. Their systemic killing and harming of black, brown, indigenous folx is part of that agenda. These institutions need to be abolished if we want to live in a world deserving of this earth.

a persyn, a spirit

constructed after death

through those around

through those that loved

through those whose hearts will never heal


a loved one,

taken away too quickly

too brutally by police forces

is that the life of those oppressed?

those whose skin and ancestry are marked

through slavery by settlers of Amerika?

How much has changed when

black communities still mourn?


preachers with words they think are

wisdom, push old and tired

ways of thinking

“black on black crime”

but what about mass incarceration?

what about police violence dispensed disproportionately on black bodies?


western schooling will never give you

the soul you need to survive

with a war that rages nobody

wants to be lectured by

old stereotypes


Liberation will never be

found within white walls

and colonized colors of respectability.

Don’t believe the myths.

Don’t fall for easy answers.


We  will honor the dead

with our fight

We will honor the dead

with rejection of the systems

We will honor the dead

by never conforming to the rules

of the living

my redefinition of love

here’s one i wrote this month about love. i have very different definitions of things than most people. sometimes i feel like trying to communicate with people is impossible because i’d have to explain all my differences before we could even begin. i believe in love but not love defined through the system of patriarchy and white supremacy.

Love is not romance.

Love is not flowers, or dinners

or dates.

Romance is constructed through layers of

patriarchy mixed with western notions

of [preferably white] companionship.

Love is wanting to change the world

not through ideas of peace, but through strength and steel.

Love is reaching inside yourself

to peel away layers which are not yours,

but were given to you

soaked in hundreds of years of oppressive behaviors.

Love is never candies or chocolate

or holding hands in a movie theater.

Love is always the search for revolution;

the search for armed resistance.

Love is when we will be able to stand together

against forces much bigger than us

but we will win, not just through love

but because we will have realized through love

what we need to win.

Love will never be romantic.

Love will always be us together against the state.