Category Archives: Politics

A.H. Scott: Vortex of the Vile


Illustration by Eustace M. Pilgram, Copyright 2017

Illustration by Eustace M. Pilgram, Copyright 2017



Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2017




In the vortex of the vile, there is never a reason to smile

All asphyxiated in this acidic arena they go

Stature diminished in a discombobulated flow

Emperor elbows anyone in his path, as a naked negativism exudes the core of this being’s wraith

Tactful restraint is nowhere about, for he must always toss around his clout

With belligerent belch of insensitivity incessantly coming from his mouth

This is the essence of what the vortex of the vile is about

For country, ideology, or any other reason it could be

Viper of chaos has chased them upward onto the branches of a burning tree

Generals of combat and command

For sense of duty

Titans of trade and commerce

For cents of duty

Duplicity is the oath of loyalty they now bear

Their once sterling reputations in former fields of glory have been sullied by the sadistic soul-shredder without care

At the helm of the vortex of the vile is a shit-starter who tosses fecal-laden sucker punches and scurries back from the front-line of retaliation by critique

But, that’s nothing new

Oh no, it’s not unique

There’s always a shit-starter who sets off the flame

But, as the firestorm blazes in the four winds in varied ways

They stand back and have others sacrifice their pride with statements of righteous defense

From tiny thumbs, the infantile tirade comes

But then again, the world holds its’ breath for the adults in the house to stand fast and fill the breach

Oh, who the Hell are we kidding?

Punditry from left and right, speak of maturity’s assurance to save us from this house of madness’ plight

Dog of many a year isn’t going to learn some new tricks

Because, being cruel is how he gets his kicks

Now, the carnival is afoot about how he turns his staff from lions to kittens

Charlottesville was nothing but a blip or a hiccup in time

Fine people were on both sides of that line

Mnuchin and Cohn got an important job to do

For constructing a mighty tax shelter will make them invisible to the Tiki torch-bearers’ view

Wave that flag! Wave that flag!

Try not to blind the public too much

Patriotism shouldn’t be callously manipulated like a bumper-sticker slogan and such

Dare not take a knee, for whatever unknown reason it could be

Knees are only meant to be capped by a boss in his high-chair

As he admonishes Rex not to don a diplomatic hat

So bizarre it is that a name of an Elton tune has been plopped into the mix

Howling at the moon is his style

No soul is safe in the Vortex of the Vile

Four men of valor taken too soon

And, actions of those in the office before you are knotted into your response

Will you stop it, will you stop it?

Stop reaching back beyond the Inauguration date of your own hand on that Holy book

Look in the mirror and take a close look

You can’t, you won’t, or maybe you just don’t care

Always right, ya’ gotta fight

Never wrong, that’s your song

Talk about news being fake, there are some things so beyond real

Touting how great thou art is your lofty deal

Paper towels punted, Mayor of San Juan shunned

For him, this is just so much damned fun

Throwaway lines and answers are spoken, leaving even the most steadfast souls broken

A father’s greatest pain spoken at the podium is even sadly diminished into a spin cycle’s token

Sacred things, sacred things

Pity how hollow that singular word rings

Audience of one sits in the office and cynically nods to himself 

Will he apologize?

Oh no, he will never take a knee

To be graceful and gallant as a gentleman he shall never be

America is being flushed down the drain of civility


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here


Also posted in Art, Blog, News, women

Debbie Williams: The Naked Truth



TWS: June 2017


Photography by Tony Ward, Copyright 2017




Text by Debbie Williams, Copyright 2017

I met Tony Ward in the 90’s, which I would probably say were my modeling heydays,  but to be frank, I have been dragging my 15 minutes of fame out over my lifetime.  I don’t remember how many times Tony and I have shot together, but I think it’s about five times by now. I like the way he sees art in the human experience.  As we shot our latest session,  he reminded me of one instance that made me completely uncomfortable.  I shot a scene with his wife Sandy.  I remember her wearing lingerie,  and me feeling like I wanted to find the closest exit.  When we shot the other day,  he mentioned that shoot,  and said it implied girl on girl action.  I don’t remember her touching me. I don’t think she did,  but I know that I didn’t like it.

Before you judge me, understand that I grew up with a sibling (and other loved ones), who are gay. The funny thing is, some people think that just because you are comfortable with a person for who they are, how they are when they are gay, that you must also be gay. Not so. I have even lost friends who were lesbians, because I just wanted to be friends.  I have also lost male friends that way. Maybe the fact that I wasn’t allowed to date until I was in college helped me to be a better friend,  because I couldn’t do anything else.  My mother said,  “You have straight “A’s”, and you are going to keep them”. I was the smart girl. You know,  most likely to succeed.  A nerd. I didn’t really think about being pretty,  except for cheerleading, gymnastics,  ballet, oratory, or an occasional talent show until I was a teenager.  I always loved clothing and shoes, but being raised by my mother was tough at times.





I was raised first in my family’s AME church,  then the Pentecostal church,  which wasn’t really big on encouraging women’s outward beauty, so modeling (and acting) isn’t looked on as a good thing.  Jesus said in Mark 16:15-16King James Version (KJV)

15 And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.
16 He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.
It is sad, but there’s are entire groups of people who are not being ministered to because they are models, actors, athletes, dancers, artists, Personal Trainers,  gay, etc., because someone has written us off as not “good enough” for Heaven. Yet, the Bible says in Matthew 7,

“Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall bejudged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerestnot the beam that is in thine own eye?…”, and in Romans 1 (which pretty much covers all of the bases) says in verses 30-32, “30 Backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents,
31 Without understanding, covenantbreakers, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful:
32 Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them.” King James Version (KJV) and in Proverbs 11:9 KJV, it says, “ 9 An hypocrite with his mouth destroyeth his neighbour: but through knowledge shall the just be delivered.”  and in Proverbs 26:20-22King James Version (KJV)
“20 Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out: so where there is no talebearer, the strife ceaseth.
21 As coals are to burning coals, and wood to fire; so is a contentious man to kindle strife.
22 The words of a talebearer are as wounds, and they go down into the innermost parts of the belly.”

I am not telling anyone that he or she has to create The Gospels According To (fill in the blank), in order to carry out their mission as a person of faith,  but I am saying that there is a wonderful little verse in John 3:16 KJV that speaks volumes, 16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.




When each of us goes before the altar of God, we can’t take our Mother’s faith, or our Father’s prayers. We go before God as we are -who we are. It is up to God to fix whatever​ needs to be fixed, and to heal what needs to heal. We often do ourselves, and others a major disservice, when we try to “play God”.
I thought about how I might explain away my reasons for doing this photo shoot, and feeling so free to dismantle this time. Other photographers have asked me to go completely nude before (when doing a nude shot would have been much easier to explain), and I didn’t do it. So why now, you might ask? Because, I want to let go.
God knows, I am not trying to promote Naked Sundays at the church. Oh, please don’t. This shoot allowed me to let go of some of my fears.
In 2011, I had kidney failure, a stroke and was diagnosed with Lupus. At first, I couldn’t talk, and could barely walk, see, hear, read, write, reason or remember. No one had to tell me I was dying. I could feel it.  It was a definite life changer for me.




The specter of death had a profound effect on my way of seeing life. For years, I have been in the ocean, trying not to make too many waves, while at the same time, trying to make a difference.
If you don’t make waves, you don’t make a difference. I can’t sit around worrying about what everyone is going to think about the choices I have made. I may not have that kind of time. I have to choose, and keep things moving.
I am always covered up under makeup, clothing, jewelry, degrees, titles, religious beliefs, family honor, motherhood, politics, responsibility…stuff.
I just want to be free.




It’s funny that Tony asked me to talk about the 2016 election. I decided to run for the US House of Representatives again after receiving a very encouraging letter from President Obama. I ran for this position against Congressman Bob Brady in 2004, on the ticket with President George Bush, Jr. I had a lot more votes in this election, but it was pretty brutal. I don’t think many candidates, or many Americans for that matter, came out of 2016 unscathed. It is now May of 2017, and now that I look back on it, I would have made some different choices.
Aside from getting hacked, and I was and still am a Republican, I felt the environment was toxic. I was not angry or disappointed on November 9th, after the election was over. I was relieved. Little did I know that there would be lingering questions about what happened during the election, and what was happening to me. I mentioned I was hacked. That happened pretty early in the campaign, but I was completely floored when I received an email on December 20th, which is the day after the election results were certified, saying someone from Russia changed the information on one of my financial accounts. Afterward, there came threatening emails, ones that sound like bribes, emails about bank accounts, credit cards, and websites that I didn’t set up, etc. It has been a long, drawn out nightmare.
Have you ever watched a “B movie”, where someone is killed, but they use the entire fifteen minutes of fame to die. You know, the kind of scene where you find yourself telling the person, “Oh just die already”! Yup, election 2016.



Even though that election was far from normal, I joined the others who were in support of Mr. Trump, because I didn’t want the party to be ripped apart. I was asked to lead Women For Trump, and African Americans For Trump, which I turned down. Quite frankly, I was waiting for the moment when I felt like he knew more about world events than I knew. I didn’t have a huge staff, or any money, so I had to study, write my own pieces, come up with my own slogans, design my own literature, etc. I had to work. I didn’t have the luxury of being lazy.
What should have been a pivotal moment for me was when the Billy Bush video came out. After hearing it, I wanted to walk away, but my name was already on the ballot, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I took a semi break for a week, and did an interview with the Philly Voice, where I opened up about the election. I also spoke up for Hillary Clinton in that article, but that part never made print. I had my issues with Secretary Clinton, but I believe she really wanted, and deserved to win.

It’s hard. I met Mr. Trump September at a meeting with Ministers in Philadelphia. I was asked to appear on MSNBC for an interview with Joy Reid later that evening. I was willing to speak in support for Mr. Trump from that day forward, but when the Billy Bush video came out, it hit me like a load of bricks, especially because I ended up moving out of the apartment I was renting because the landlord touched me inappropriately. Talk about tragic irony. I was hoping for a better, stronger America, and though the lines are blurred, I have not stopped hoping.




All Right Reserved.  Copyright 2017


Cover: Debbie Williams photographed in Brooklyn, New York on May 18, 2017

Body Suit: Moda International

Earrings: Dream Plus

Metal Necklace: Dream Plus

Makeup: LA Colors

Nail Polish: Broadway Nails

Dress: Nicole Miller Collection

Lingerie: Calvin Klein


Also posted in Blog, Documentary, Erotica, Fashion, Glamour, Models, Nudes, Photography, Portraiture, women

A.H. Scott: What Happened to Trump’s Brain?



What Happened to Trump’s Brain?



Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2017


Photography by Tony Ward, Copyright 1977




He paces with anxiety and mutters to himself alone

Taste for strawberries isn’t on his mind, as two scoops of ice cream or an appetite for meatloaf may give a bit of solace to him in this historic home

Watched in silence are those who dwelled here before he did

Milhous whispers, “Your reputation is on the fast track of outdoing me, kid”

Andrew chuckles, “You don’t even know I was dead before the war began”

Johnson chimes in, “I came up with sounder visions when I was sitting on the can”

JFK dismissively whistles, “Your level of tact can only fill a thimble”

Ronald wisely quips, “Bonzo had more sense than you. And, my personality was ever more nimble”

Clinton says in his Southern drawl, “Call me what you will, but my hands ain’t small”

W. sighs, “So, you wanted to toss dirt on my days in office. Well, my, my, my”

Man who mutters and paces places hands over ears

He makes it clear that these voices isn’t what he wants to hear

Rush of wind blows through the Oval Office doors, as he looks over and sees the man who lived there a few months before

He rubs his eyes and screams, “No, it can’t be you!”

Man from Illinois via Hawaii isn’t standing there in the flesh

Yet, his spirit of brotherhood filled this place of lost happiness

Mutterer grumbles this man’s name like a curse every time it is spoken from his bitter lip, “Oh, so now it’s you. So, what’s your smart-ass quip?”

A voice filled the air and said ever so soberly, “This job ain’t no joke. This is the White House and not some luncheonette casually selling Pepsi or Coke”

Yet, the resident who is now President decided to be a carbonation of resentment

Orange Crush isn’t refreshment

Orange Crush is a man without sanity or attachment

Unlinked from the truth that stares him in the face

Scaffolding of his psyche has vanished without a trace

Signposts of the past can be seen as history to some

Yet, history is alive in the marrow of democracy of today and all the tomorrows to come


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here


Also posted in Art, Blog, Early Work

A.H. Scott: Could It Be His Kiss?



Paint America Great Again by Taqiy Muhammad, Copyright 2017



Poetry by A. H. Scott




Could it be his kiss?

Well, it sure as Hell ain’t bliss

In his squint there’s something amiss

Could it be what’s in his kiss?

Or, far worse than delusion is what we dread

Tiny hands are nothing compared to the voices inside his head

The world loves you, Donald!

No matter how vicious you are to the powerless poor

The world loves you, Donald!

With a glint in his eye, smiling budgeter Mick “The Meat Cleaver” Mulvaney slickly slices the throat

The world loves you, Donald!

Reality TV is nothin’ we’re gonna laugh at now

Omarosa is the real deal, standin’ by your side

Could it be his kiss?

Maybe like an anesthetic, his magical pucker holds followers to sway in euphoric ecstasy

Any way the wind blows, can be like the truth or lies

Blow, baby, blow!

Surprise! Surprise! Surpise!

It’s Kellyanne “The Fact Whisperer” Conway, getting ready for her expanding 15 on the fly

The world loves you, Donald!

Daily detractors have met their match in Sean “The Man Tryin’ To Keep A Straight Face” Spicer

The world loves you, Donald!

And, who could forget that man of callous cannon, Steve “The Bureaucratic Blaster” Bannon

If their minds can match, why can’t their lips?

Could it be his kiss?

Wake up, world!

That conning pie hole ain’t worth the risk

Selling wolf tickets like they’re going out of style

What’s in his kiss?

Something ever so vile

That kinda affection he’s bringin’ forth is a poisonous mile

Kiss off!

Ban this!

Piss off!

Ban that!

Grease up and pucker hard

The world loves you, Donald!

And, the world is your dance card


Painting by Taqiy Muhammad, Copyright 2017


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here

Also posted in Art, Blog, Men, Portraiture

Trump’s Marriage to Lady Liberty: Heaven or Hell?



Artwork by Alexandra Rouvet Duvernoy



Artwork and Text by Alexandra Rouvet Duvernoy, Copyright 2017




The golden rays bathed the entrance on this November morning, bringing with him sweetness and hope of a beautiful day.

I am happy when I leave my flat to see this beautiful clear blue sky, to hear the pinchers gurgling in the yard, to feel at the bend of an alley, bathed in a warm light, the tender and delicious treasures of the bakers, twirling on my high heels.

I join my friend, Miss Liberty, in the tea room which is at the corner of Saint Tolerance Street and Compassion Boulevard, just in front of the old park, Democracy.

I push the heavy glass and wrought iron “Chez Socrates”‘s door and I see that she is already waiting for me, fresh and smiling, the cheekbones dew, with gourmet lips, and her large open and sparkling eyes. She is impatient and excited at the thought that her American parents are choosing a new husband for her today. She has been used for thousand of years to be married by her Europeans, Asians, Africans, Americans and others parents. But still today, Mr. and Mrs USA have to choose her new husband for the next 4 years. They have a decisive choice in their hands and Miss Liberty is confident in them, she believes in their wisdom to offer her the wisest partner.

I sit next to her and take the smoking cup she gives me. The perfum of cherry tea mixed with hers is so sweet that it moves me.

She is feverish with so much agitation and confides in  me that she has her preferences between the different candidates, but that she will rely on the sovereign choice of her parents.

The hours pass long, interminable, this waiting becomes heavy. Miss Liberty,  her hands cold and stomach tight, a doubt assails her, and grows to the point of gripping her throat. I see her turning pale, twisting her long and graceful fingers. She moves a lot…

Finally, the choice of a church is announced, it will be Sainte Mary Bank; it doesn’t go over well. The first clue suggests that the ceremony will not be as romantic as expected.

The sky darkens little by little, a cold wind enters  the chapel next to an old, dark, wrinkled,  old man, all dressed in black. He puts a necklace with a rope and chain around Miss Liberty. I remain speechless, we cry out in the heart and her supplicating look breaks my heart.

Everything is linked at a vertiginous speed, a real whirlwind, our heads caught in this rash round, we arrive in the middle of an assembly equally astounded by the site of this marriage.

There we discover – The One – who takes the reindeer in hand, wild face, cheerful childish face of a bad little boy winning after a whim, with piercing and icy cold eyes, and without having had time to recover her shock and disbelief, Miss Liberty hears the fateful words:

-” Mr. Trump do you wish to marry Miss USA Liberty?

– I Do

– Miss Liberty Usa, do you hear?

-I Do…”



Alexandra at the Hotel Regina, Paris. Photo: Tony Ward


About The Author: Alexandra Rouvet Duvernoy has a degree in Fine Arts from Bordeaux’s Beaux Art School in France, in opera singing from a French conservatory where she studied with Denise Lacroix and has practiced for 20 years as a ballet dancer under the tutelage of Monique Mallo and Nathalie Michaud.  Alexandra has  modeled for some French magazines as a fashion model and then later explored  glamour and erotic modeling for photographer Tony Ward and others. These different visions of Art; dance, music, photography and of course painting and drawing, mixed with a lot of traveling around the world, has aided in developing her distinctive artwork. She was recently  published by Afnor in France, and has  published some comics. A book of baroque texts and illustrations for a French publishing house is due to be published later this year.


To see additional work by Alexandra Rouvet Duvernoy, go here


Also posted in Art, Blog, women