Sword & Pen

“There are two powers in the world; one is the sword and the other is the pen. There is a great competition and rivalry between the two. There is a third power stronger than both, that of the women.” ― Muhammad Ali Jinnah

Sword and Pen-
I am a transition.
I am a platform,
A stepping off point- Bridge.
Landing and taking off-
A sea of reflection and projection-
Exhausted by the inner chaos,
propelled by the outer madness.
The last 3 months feel like years
Oh dear, my head is still on the pillow.
Distant Fantasies taunt me, daily,
like a sword fighting man-child,
playing with him and her- self.
“I like this pen”,
A pen that fits is hard to come by,
a “likeable” pen that is…
One that fits the form, grooves in the right way-
flows, doesn’t bleed.
Smooth Sailor- Fuck the Bic!
This one is plain and simple.
No frills- just is.
Gray and white, like the color of my mood-
Oh… there’s the sun, peeking his little head about–
Teasing me to see him–
“Oh, Hello old friend. There you are…”
The cause is frightening, the cure is writing.
Snooze went my alarm, sniffle goes my heart-
Neurosis of the being- here.
Thank heaven for Dogs.
Clarity, clear eyes-
Clear heart.
I envy you, my dog friend.
Fragile bitch-
Fairy children wrapped- up in adulthood.
A feather, disarmed.
— flightless bird, unwinged, unmasked-
like a Super Star without makeup, a traveler passportless,
or a nation with a worthy agenda–
Take me away- to a place that feels like home again.
I can’t hear myself purr anymore-
I’ve lost my voice again, in the sound of political satire.
I am drowning under the sea of the living-
Legislative-Zombie-Beings, trying to be free-
“ESCAPE ME!” they say to me.
“Find the way out” Father time repeats-
“Find it fast (and quickly) before I run you out of town…!”
Dream maker, Dream maker, make me a dream-
help me to follow you into the next–
A Defunded heart, My lady-parts resist-
My gratitude for coffee persists.
My being, being drawn to the paper, ever-growing-
like— a metaphor waiting to unfold itself,
in perfect timing.
I am ready for a just Analogy.
Waiting here, like an actor-
Oh, wait– I am an actor-
motion-less, dancer.
word-less, writer.
an un-mothered, mother.
friendless, friend.
A woman with no country to claim her,
just shame her-
bla bla… black sheep- have you any heart?
blame, blame, blame goes the stripe-less flag
and a star-less sky.
I am here but, I am some-where-else,
I am with my pen.
I stand with the Mothers of Oppression.
The love bird has landed.
Pecking about his way- in clear sight, of my cat-
ready, set, POUNCE!
Drop goes my bleeding heart,
Nix goes the flightless bird-
Meow, my kitty cries…
Reign in the madness.

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