>>>>                                    

                                       x
                                      x x
                                    x x x
                                 x x x x x                        
                      ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
   ­        ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;::::::::::::::::::::­:::::
Never can it move::::like thunder or lightning
it goes slow, but sure:::::treading its own path
brave, strong and patient:::in facing its ordeals
they don't want to sting:::unless when needed
they want to be left alone::::but, alert:::::::ready
to protect and defend itself:::::with less action
when trapped or driven up a dead end:::::it is
more composed::::::it knows when to explode
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::
::::a scorpion can quickly paralyze its victim:::
::::::::::::::::::::with its own venom:::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::it is said,::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
human beings have innate venoms or weapons
i don't know if i have one:::or what it could do
i only know, i can hardly harm anyone::::::::but
like any other creature:::::::i will defend myself
:::::::::::when my safety is compromised::::::::::
    :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
      :::::::::::::::::::: i am a scorpio ::::::::::::::::::::
          ::::::::::::::::what about you?:::::::::::::
               what could be your venom?
                 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                    ­ :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                        :::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                                x x x x x
                                    x x x
                                     x x
                                       x
                        



  Sally


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 23, 2017

Percy owned a big sword as tall as him and sharp as Hell
It was big and black and perfectly crafted
Just like something else closer to home
Forged in the depths of Hell by the best artisans
Now Percy owned the sword and he was boss
King of the block who nobody ****** with
He chopped off heads left and right
And lopped off ***** front and back
He gave neighbourhood defence a new meaning
His sword provided safety to all his buddies
Nobody sold drugs or stole cars
After meeting Percy and his tool
There was something about it
It was the length and blackness of it
Two attributes associated with something else
For even a BBC was limited in power and ******
When compared to Satan's own sword
Now in the care of humble Percy
Or was it the other way round?
Sword and man as one...

The birthplace of weapons.
The backbone of wars.
No sound but the throes of steel.
In fires that burn, unending.

Shaped by the beating of the blacksmith.
Each stroke, manifesting his will.
To forge the weapon of prophecy;
The sword to lead us to victory.
Bathed in the blood of its enemies.

Pen Can Write
Pen Can Draw
It Can Even Paint

Pen can fill Colours
In Shapes and Drawings
And in peoples Life too

Pen has Sympathy
Pen has Empathy
Pen has Emotions too

Pen can Heal
Make you feel
Calm and cool

Pen can save
It can control
The way we behave

Pen Can Fight
For your rights
And for others too

Pen can **** colours
From peoples life
And make it pretty hell

Pen can help you
****** poor's property
And make you very rich

Pen can throw
Culprit in Jail
Or can even grant him bail

Pen could be Cruel
Only needs some fuel
Then it could easily burn

Pen is Sharp
It can Cut and Wound
And Make you Bleed

But is it really the Pen
Or the Hand and Mind
Of one who uses the Pen

Pen is a Weapon
Pen is Lethal
So handle with care

Hidden in the shadows
Weapons at his side
He has her sent
And he follows
Silently he stalks
He moves swiftly across the floor
Without a flinch
There's a knife through her heart
she tries to look at him before her last breath
though there is no one in the room anymore

Hidden in the shadows
Weapons at his side
He has her sent
And he follows
Silently he stalks
He moves swiftly across the floor
Without a flinch
There's a knife through her heart

Lewis Carroll,
The numbers were driving him insane.

George Orwell,
His family didn't know yet.

Mark Twain,
A childhood on the rivers.

A pseudonym is a weapon like no other.

It's a weapon
It's the truth
It's a lie
It's a reason why
You should stay alive
To write your poems
To write your stories
To write
Show us what's in your heart
So we can help
So we can write something to help
That's the pen's job
To write
To help
The pen