A jot, a blot is all I need
To give my thoughts their sweetest deed
I swing and swirl this loot of ink
As letters dance to what I think

Think not and write you cannot do
Like Napoleon to Waterloo
For what is war but a loss in wager
A broken truce in a piece of paper?

Papers shrink and end in bins
As writers make their painful sins
But how can that be not far better
Than to hallow one with a price much greater?

Greater than the boldest force
And the many knights in their battle horse
Is a gobbled pride left sealed in wax
To unleash the sheep and **** the fox

Foxtrot to the endless seams
Of choicest words and inner hymns
Writing is a hundred twice as fun
And safer than a loaded gun

Guns may pierce the human flesh
But words hit straight a person’s chest
For what it’s worth, a mighty mortal
Can fall to such a force as equal

Equal to a slash of sword
Is an ample dash of pointy words
A blood spill sure can end a war
Don’t you think a pen can get that far?

Far and near are distant words
That pens can glue but not the swords
For I can rule the world and sprout a seed
A jot, a blot, is all I need.