Tag Archives: poerty

New Year’s Covenant


God Is An Anarchist by vagabond ©

God Is An Anarchist by vagabond ©

new years covenant
(antifragile)

i take the noise within the signal

i want the fury and the sound and the tempest and the rage

i want the unpredictable

i want the unsure

i want everything they can throw at me

i want everything they think will destroy me

i take the permanence of spray paint graffiti slogans to the streets

and then the impermanence of it when they paint over it

and then the permanence of spray paint graffiti slogans on their fresh paint

to create a permanence of the idea behind spray paint graffiti slogans

like god is an anarchist and the root of all love is the hate of all greed

when they hide the permanence of spray paint graffiti slogans under fresh coats of paint

the permanence of ideas will bleed through a bit

and ideas like god is an anarchist and the root of all love is the hate of all greed

will be tagged in permanence in your mind

i want the spontaneity of it

i want the friction to spark and flash in the night

i shift my weight ever so slightly when they come for me

to make a correction an adjustment

i want to see their faces when it all doesn’t all go according to plan

i want to see their faces when it crumbles and fades

i want the dust and the debris to settle before i rise

from the plans they had for me as i grin from ear to ear

antifragile

i want my tragedy to cease being their comedy

i want the chaos of anarchy to order things

i want the empire of doubt to be decolonized from my mind

i want to finally put these wasted years to some use

to take these mistakes and make them shine like stars

and use them as a means of navigation

- vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-UU

Apocalypse When


Apocalypse When by vagabond ©

Apocalypse When by vagabond ©

“Calling PBR street gang.
PBR street gang, this is Almighty.
Can you read me?  Over.”

- Apocalypse Now

apocalypse when 12/21/12
it’ll end one day
but when?
some days i think not soon enough
reality game show host politicians
cops frustrated with the power to kill
corporations are human beings too
profiteers keep the war machine well oiled with poverty and patriotism
everything must turn a profit to be of some use
i wish that just once just for one day
all the right people would die
someone call in the airstrike
clear the palette of this death culture
it’s a dream
an apocalypse dream
that asks when
because now is not soon enough
- vagabond

The artwork is available on a T-shirt and on a 1″ button from Audio Visual Terrorism

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-TW

Threats Become Promises


Now That There's Justice There Can Be Peace by vagabond ©

Now That There’s Justice There Can Be Peace by vagabond ©

threats become promises
you still have time
to lay down your greed
and raise your hands
to surrender
and assume the position
of the guilty
consider this
your last warning
your final notice
you were duly warned
when we marched and screamed
no justice without peace

but you believe too much
in your hubris
and now slogans
must become threats
and threats
must become promises
that fill the nostrils
with gasoline and smoke
to be laid out
like victory wreaths
on the smoldering ruins
of the foundations
where your excess once stood

- vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-SA

My Shadow As Graffiti


This slideshow requires JavaScript.

my shadow as graffiti
(a poem for re•sister)

my shadow as graffiti
on the wall of a parking lot
on toulouse between chartres and decatur
in the french quarter of new orleans
required some sort of documentation
i’m glad that this camera exists in my hand
and acts as an extension of both eye and memory
because it was a wish come true
to be woven into the mystery
even if it was for only a moment
and who would believe it
without some sort of valid proof
without some sort of photographic evidence

- vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-Nm

A Realists Eulogy For Idealists


How do the possibilities remain impossible?
There is so much light and love in the beginning.
The inferno consumed into glowing embers.
Who would have thought that this monkey wrench thrown into the gears of the machine could become mangled so quickly?
That monkey wrench seemed so invincible, that machine so vulnerable.
These decisions get wrapped like a stone around your heart tossed into the depths, falling away from the surface, falling away from the light and the warmth of the sun.
In the end there is no blame, only responsibility.
When this righteous anger is past due and spoils to turn to bitterness, it will make complete sense to turn your back on the beauty of what could be.
Your strength turned against you so the fight is within you and the struggle is without you.
The failures of idealism piled up like dead bodies and the reasons are excuses dressed as wisdom and wisdom is a realists eulogy written for idealists.

-vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-GB

Treyvon Martin In Post Racial America by vagabond ©

A Post Racial Fraction


Treyvon Martin In Post Racial America by vagabond ©

Treyvon Martin In Post Racial America by vagabond ©

A Post Racial Fraction

Macedonia Church Of God in Christ
Oscar Grant
Ramarley Graham
James Anderson
Raul Flores
Bresenia Flores
Osama Obama Shotgun Pool
Michael Nida
Henry Louis Gates
Jose Osvaldo Sucuzhañay
Anthony Hill
Niggerhead
Beth Humphery & Terence McKay
Alie Kamara
Troy Davis
Don’t Re-nig in 2012
Treyvon Martin
NYPD Stop & Frisk

- vagabond

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-FP

The Language Of Love by vagabond ©

No One Speaks Of Love Anymore


The Language Of Love by vagabond ©

The Language Of Love by vagabond ©

The language of love is in action.
No one speaks of love anymore.
It’s syntax replaced with at worst, casual indifference and at best, a grudging tolerance.
A new vocabulary is needed and only insurrection will bring it.
In this unwritten future love will lead the revolution.
The barricades will go pushed over.
The walls returned to dust.
The borders will go ignored.
The authority of these impediments will go unrecognized.
There will be no keeping love in… or out.

From the forthcoming film NO WAY HOME
written & directed by vagabond

Rufina Santos Mateo Birth Certificate by vagabond ©

The Imaginary Nation


Rufina Santos Mateo Birth Certificate by vagabond ©

Rufina Santos Mateo Birth Certificate by vagabond ©

the imaginary nation
(for Rufina and Moises Santos and Lisa Sanchez González)

legal immigrant puerto ricans never needed a green card or naturalization papers
based on the technicality of yankee colonialism
they never had to learn the pledge of allegiance or salute the stars and stripes
until they were made citizens to fill the gaps left In the trenches of
two world wars, the korean war and the conflict in vietnam
canon fodder immigrants with drafted second class citizenship
conveniently filed under the selective service negro regiments
dying in service to a country that allowed them to fill
two needs with one grave
that’s one less dead american and one more dead porto rican

puerto ricans never needed papers to come from a nationless nation
mocked by american billboards to lift themselves up by their bootstraps
in an operation to make them dependent
on the american made heel pushing down on their throats
it’s an effort to choke the dignity out of them
but all they ever spit up was broken american english
from the asthmatic factory sweatshop floors careful not to get any spanglish
on the pennies paid piece work as they sat at a singer that sang a song of oppression
always catching that dirty puerto rican sweat in the palm of their hand
before it hit the white porcelain toilets they cleaned or the pale tile floors they scrubbed
they never needed papers to be encouraged or coerced
to leave a country they couldn’t fully claim as their own
to come to a country that would claim them as unknown

this in-betweenness
this not here and not here and not over there either
this 500 year plus limbo and counting
this nationalist purgatory that requires an ongoing penance
this nation squeezed into the space of a colony contained by a fake autonomy
this nationless nation smuggled across borders in the minds and bodies of puerto ricans
this fractured indigenous european african passport
is unacceptable i.d. and so it must be fake
since it defies the social science mythology of race and nationality

papers? we don’t need no stinking papers
we carry an identity that defies classification
our papers are the deed to a current imaginary nation looking to be a former colony
but the americans have camouflaged their imperialism
with puerto rican olympic teams pan american games
miss universe beauty pageants titles
and the classification of international flights to domestic territories
and holding opinion polls called plebiscites rigged as american propaganda
while the world scratches its head trying to understand
how these americans have rewritten the old rules of imperialism
and risked allowing such facades to be the glue for such political schizophrenia
never understanding that its spectacle for divide and conquer
never understanding that its porto rican against puerto rican

then the americans hold up a defaulted bank note and say
you porto ricans have not yet paid for the right to be decolonized
and puerto ricans hold up political assassinations and prisoners of war
as a receipt that the rent has been overpaid by the tenants
who wish to serve the absentee landlord of yankee imperialism an eviction notice
but the paper for that receipt is invalid because there are no refunds on theft
and the eviction notice was written in a disappearing ink
because puerto ricans don’t need papers to validate their invalidation
they come from a set of coordinates left in a racial geopolitical void
from a place that exists without definition
from a misunderstood chapter in history
because they exist without a nation
they carry within their existence an imagined nation

they’ve lived like this for so long
they’ve grown accustomed to the contradictions of imagined nationhood
and on a sunday in early june they celebrate it
with a fervor unmatched by any real nation
they march that imagination up 5th avenue
driving it uptown against the traffic while pulling a float of dancing girls
with a permit from the mayor and flashing police escort
waving a real flag for a symbolic nation
parading the pride of their imagination as evidence to the world
that they have found a visceral way to exist within this ether of colonialism

without a tolerance for the absurd or a propensity for the surreal
or a sense of humor about the nakedness of an empire that wears no clothes
puerto ricans would have been a past tense without a future
but this blessing is a difficult poison to swallow
when they ask you for the claim check ticket for the imaginary nation
left parked in a garage only puerto rican parking lot attendants have access to
when they ask who was your mother and who was your father
and where is your grandmother
and show me on the maps of nations where it is you’re from
when they ask to see the invalid papers they have forced you not to carry
to validate your unrecognized existence

- vagabond
Love Self Portrait by vagabond & resister ©

A Love Worth Fighting For


Love Self Portrait (circa 1995) by vagabond & resister ©

Love Self Portrait (circa 1995) by vagabond & resister ©

A Love Worth FIghting For
(for resister on St. Valentine’s Day)

all the disagreements
all the arguments
all the fights
all the bad blood spilled

it was all well worth it
and the next go round
will be worth it too
it’s just the pain of earning your love

all the stones thrown
all the insult upon injury
all the salt pushed into open wounds
all the old scars

to not suffer for this
would be to not understand it’s value
to not hurt for this
would make it disposable

all the dried blood stuck to gauze
all the choking from the fire
all the poison consumed
all the scabs picked clean

it was all well worth it
and the next go round
will be worth it too
it’s just the pain of earning your love

all the words forged into blades
all the tears shed
all the soreness from screaming
all the spent exhaustion

you make it all worth while
you can’t have something as valuable as a love like this
as a love like like yours as a love like ours
and not pay a higher price

- vagabond

Your Ad Not Here


your ad not here by vagabond ©

your ad not here by vagabond ©

“You are not what you own”
- Fugazi from the song Merchandise

your ad not here
free to imagine now
we owe you no debt
empty these billboard frames
and leave them blank
as a reminder
of how close
we came to choking
on the unimportance of it all
your ad not here
free to imagine now
we owe you no debt
empty these billboard frames
and leave them blank
for each of us to imagine
a desire that cannot
be bought or sold
- vagabond ©