Kahlil Almustafa talks about his poetry as activism – as his contribution to a Revolution. What drives him to write is a vision of a world where the hands and feet of children won’t be chopped off for diamonds in Sierra Leone; where 50 shots at an unarmed man isn’t acceptable. It’s a passion that’s motivated his career and has directed his viewpoint of the everyday world.

The start of Kahlil’s quasi-political career was in Queens Village, New York. Growing up in the middle of the 80s boom in New York’s crack era, Kahlil took the poverty and drug infused violence around him, and turned those visions into short, but powerful statements about a society were there’s money for uranium tipped tank shells, but not for schools. Inspired at first by the elegant writing style of Langston Hughes, these social critiques are the origin what was to become his first spoken word LP, Counter Intelligence. He says, “When I was a kid I would walk home from school and wonder ‘why does everything look so bad?’ It kinda became clear to me that what all these poor people had in common was that we were black.”

When asked about the story behind his first poems Kahlil goes back to that age and gives a miniature biography of his childhood, making sure that you have all the relevant background. So before the first few pieces were written you have to know that Sheila Gasper, a strong, smart, black woman, taught her boy to think outside the box.

Khalil’s mother was “one of those black radicals that pumped their fist when things were going strong, but when the repression started” he laughs “she quit that and Jeri Curled her hair.” Sheila was a teacher and made sure to nurture her child’s natural love of learning and critical thinking by exposing him to things outside his small world. Keeping him curious and always asking questions she raised a young boy who would look at his neighborhood and wonder about the logic behind the misery that seemed to permeate the lives of black people. Enter Langston.

“I would say I started with Langston Hughes because his style was simple.” With a pause he corrects himself and smiles. “He conveyed ideas in an easy to access way. When he talked about going to see his grandmother, that’s what he meant. He talked about what was actually happening in words that were immediately accessible. I applied that way of expression to the life I was living; to what I was seeing.” He gives me an impromptu performance of an early piece he wrote:

I musta' fit the description again
Five foot, ten, male, African American
That must be why the Korean man
follows me from aisle to aisle
with that suspecting smile
And that must be why
I get stopped by the cops a lot
I musta' fit the description
of someone who mugged you before
I musta' looked like the guy
who tried to rob your store
As I walk by old women
grabbing their purses
firmly with both hands
I wonder what makes them think this way
I just can't understand
I don't see myself that way
when I look at my reflection
I see myself in a different way
filling another description
a doctor, scientist, astronaut or engineer
a poet, author, singer or maybe a multimillionaire
That's the description that I'm fittin' in
Five foot, ten, male African-American

Continuing to write poetry Khalil began his career at talent shows, but soon found his way through the circuit of New York poetry spots and made a second home of places like the Nuyorican Poets Café. He worked the scene till he learned, “… ‘I could get paid for this?’ All this time I was doing it for free and not really thinking much about the money.” This transition from hobby to career was followed by his win at the 2002 National Poetry Slam competition. Since then Khalil has been able to put out work that’s been critically well-received, as well as sharing the stage with poets and artists like Sonia Sanchez, Manning Marable, Dead Prez, Floetry and Dilated Peoples.

Like many of the young spoken word artists that were bred on a diet of slam poetry culture and early 90’s/late 80’s Hip-Hop, Khalil’s pieces have a definite political bent to them. Kahlil, however, has taken this generalization to another level. He explains his introduction to politics as a simple walk into a neighborhood bookstore. “When I went in [the owner] Djaze started talking to me… and recommended The Miseducation of the Negro by Carter G. Woodson. I was like ‘that’s alright,’ but he kept saying ‘just take this book and you can pay me later.’ He knew that I’d come back, and I did… The book blew my mind because the idea is that one’s education can directly affect their actions. If you educate a person to walk through the back door he’ll do it. If there is no make door they’ll make one because their education demands it. [The book] explained so much.” The book sparked a reading frenzy that had him reading Frederick Douglass to Assata Shakur, as well as other radical thinkers.

The warehouse of political knowledge that Kahlil’s mind has become is reflected in his poems. It’s translated into an ability to create pieces that refer to political history in depth, while at the same time creating with a passion and skill that makes the whole thing digestible and engaging. His two books, Grandma's Soup (2001) and I'm Crying Everyone's Tears (2002) were filled with poems like these that enraged, educated and demanded a change in the way the world works. Counter Intelligence is his attempt to put those same themes to work against the backdrop of music.

The album, sonically, is a hybrid of rap and metal. Like DJ premier meets Bad Brains, the songs incorporate heavy baselines and rhymeable beat breaks along with hard guitar riffs, and crashing drums. Mainly powered by musical group GAME Rebellion, Kahlil was also lent a hand by his industry savvy cousin Aaron “Freedom” Lyles who’s worked with names like Erykah Badu, Bilal and Angie Stone. Lyrically, Khalil is in his prime – spitting out fiery words that carry the emotion and fury of a life long victim. It’s all delivered with the impeccable pace and timing that he’s perfected though his years of performing on stage. Each piece is a stand against the system and what he feels it’s done to the lives of working class and poor people.

Contrary to that anger, on display on almost every track, Khalil’s real life persona is one of humor and smiles, though just as politically motivated. He talks to me about the gentrification of Brooklyn, and laughs in amazement at the renaming and splitting of Bedstuy into “Bedford Hills” and “Stuyvesant Heights.”

Though not set on a particular ideology, issues and events like these have made up the content of much of his life, and art. Most important of these events was the death of his mother in 1994 of A.I.D.S. Calling her “a large inspiration for my mission” Khalil has continued along the path she set him on as a kid. Through his actions and words he continues to question and point out the flaws in our society in the hopes that his words will inspire a change in the way we live.