If one day my pen became a brush
Oh how I'd paint so well for you~
I do love so as well in life to paint
But can't seem to do it here it's true~
I'd paint for you the mountains and the trees
The cloud formations , sandy beaches long~
I'd paint my true love , and all above
With colors pastel and so gently strong~
Such scenes of care beyond compare
How I'd paint the sun and as well the moon~
If my pen was to become but a brush
I'd paint dew drops on a red balloon~
Rays of sunshine wet on roses
Butterflies in flight~
If my pen was but a brush
How I'd paint as well as write~
If my pen became a brush its true
I'd even paint your smile~
I'd paint how I feel about just you
And how I'd do so with such style~
If my pen became a brush
I'd paint the whole world for you~
And if my pen became a brush
I'd paint of my love for you so true~

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2018

A pen. A pen and a paper.
It all starts with pen and paper.
Music and art and literature and films
They're all brought to life (and limited)
by pen and paper

With pen and paper, you create
You become a god
You create and destroy at your whim
But like a god, you are to be destroyed
by your same creations

The only way to stay safe
away, and free
from the awaiting destruction you created,
is to stay far from pen and paper

Alas, pen and paper call to you
What comes off it, is something that
takes time to tame.

It is not a question of seeking answers
but a question of control.
Controlling pen and paper.
You control pen and paper,
you control life.

the words don't come easy
on this head-pounding hungover day
every train of thought trails off
into intangible nonsense.
maybe if i buy a new pen? i think
perhaps then these words won't look so lame?
maybe a carbon steel ballpoint pen
with high-grade stainless steel trimmings.
i could engrave my name on it.
with a pen like that, i think
i could write cryptic poetry
that would bewilder the masses.
then i speculate the possibilities
of stabbing myself in the neck with a pen like that
with my name engraved on it.
possibly if i hit a main artery
in my neck, i think
that could work.
but i can't afford a pen like that.

Here I lay beneath the pen
Motionless, pale, pasty, dead.

Here I lay beneath the pen
You haven't spared a thought for me yet, but why would you when you threw away so many other just like me before.

Here I lay beneath the pen
I may be a little rough around the edges, but that's the texture! I can be what you want just give me a chance!

Here I lay beneath the pen
So now you've used and abused me, you're just going to throw me away, like a useless piece of garbage.

Here I lay beneath the pen
Defiled and disrespected, you crunch me up and throw me away without a second thought, but here's a thought, I started out pristine condition just like the others, that pen passed across me so quickly and you deemed me unworthy.

What was I?

While I sit down to write
My pen begins to talk
What are you ding my friend
You resemble a hawk

You have a long agenda
to fix something up
Never trying to find
only eccentrically burp?

The Suns, Moons you see
Can never be your friend
You are quite alone
over the battle ground

Time have come
to make your skin thick
Strengthen your body
to give hard kick

All these talks
made me to smile
pen seems very smart
walks a more mile

Agendas are to undo
battles are history
for my beloved pen
it is a mystery

World has moved
faster than my pen
Sun.Moon are in my net,
and listed as my fan

I pity my poor pen
Preparing to face a ban
we are in motion
Just no battles
Only a final Annihilation

What a relief to set aside
my mechanical pencil
and write with you,
O Ballpoint Pen
found at the bottom of my pen box.

On your side is engraved
“Samy’s Camera.”
Did I walk out with you by accident?
or was it on purpose,
beguiled by your sleek, cool body
as you nestled into my hand
and I clasped you tight
likw my boyfriend in a steamy nightclub
dancing slow to Moon River.

Was I writing a check for
a roll of Kodak film,
ASA 400?
Or was it more recent?
Purchasing a digital mini-camera
to carry in my purse?
Before cellphones took selfies so flawlessly
that I tucked my Sony
into the dresser drawer
behind my underwear.
It lies abandoned
soon to be joined by all my
mechanical pencils.

You, my Pen, are my reliable companion
who will record lists for me:
To Do lists
Shopping lists
Birthday lists
Laundry lists.
You will record why my lover
doesn't want me anymore, but
I will tear up that scrap of paper
as soon as the ink has dried like blood,
that heartless man,
unworthy of the ink I waste on him.

O beautiful Pen,
sleek as the fur on a cat,
smooth as a gin and tonic,
solid as his hand on my breast.
for merely.

I hereby relinquish my mechanical pencil,
whose lead keeps shattering.
But you, dear Ballpoint Pen, I can press hard.
And how much more beautiful
with you
are the curves of my words.

[endless ode on Marilyn M.]

The language of both is starting the field football
daughter watching her hair's hidden lives having
socks that can beam the skin w/out visiting the
crazy Museum, coveting the stupid thinking pen
& starting a conversation to know that Daniel''s
six six six suites; ****'s wilderness of a dying man
in the flat sense of the ghost; simply the first thing
he drinks ,a happy life's dark corners warm-up
a sport to be regarded as the goddess,   widely
in a lot of light stands the sweating
of the enemy,     he had been on the mountain,
& sat down so that 1 day's proceedings;
Cheap Flights to greatest movement augers lucidity,
always keeping the Jewish prospects toward the Society
of the lady & the permission of the individual,
a stranger to the mountain-barrier,           & in the street
of a stomacher,            w/             pictures of the human
*****, so that God, thanks be to sell it,          as one
remembers the dreams of a matter
of no importance to the visitor,
a madman in the Museum,              covetous of a fool,
I took hold of the pen                     & he began to send
a messenger in full, Jack,       six times six of clothing
& ****, in the wilderness,
a dying man,                                 he fully in the Latin
sense gave up the ghost's
qualifications in the first meet       a man for drinks,
& have a happy life, part dark,       the warm-up sport
to be regarded as the goddess is widely held to be Loved
in the light of, or in that they sweat,     the enemy turned
to their visions of the mountains,         settled in to order
to 1 day of the Attorney before broadcasting bright,
always keeping the Jewish facing society managing
to allow everyone to visit the hill opposite the street
where they sell a bandaged pictures of the human
***** may thanks prostitutes to remember his dreams;
1 volume slip crew sheath to buy face now, alas,
mean lady's,      from the morning watch even until night
by medicines the fate of the queen; The language of both
is starting field football daughter watch the hair hidden
lives have socks talking radius of leather to visitors
in the crazy Museum,   coveting the stupid thin pen
& starting a conversation to know Daniel,
these men drink ***, clothing,        **** wilderness
dying man flat sense of the ghost simply
the first thing he drinks a happy life part dark,
the warm-up a sport to be regarded as the goddess
& wide in diameter the light, to stand in the sweating
of the enemy, he had been on the mountain,
& sat down to me again the day they were,
Flights to greatest movement augur lucidly,
always keeping the Jewish prospects toward
Society of the lady the permission of the individual,
a stranger to the mountain-barrier,
& in the street of a stomacher, pictures
of a human *****, render thanks to God
in a manner, that Her stockings were yet talking
to him w/ the rays of the skin, hearing the things
of which is not of the visitor to a madman's Museum,
covetous of a fool, & I took hold of the pen
& began to send a message to tell Jack these men
drink & women,
Clothing for ****, the wilderness, the dying man,
he fully in the sense gave up the ghost qualification
at the first meeting, where a man drinks & has a happy life,
part dark, the warm-up sport to be regarded as the goddess
is widely Love the light, & on the sweat of the back
of the enemy,      black Visa favorable
to do the day of the Attorney before broadcasting
bright, always keeping the Jewish facing society
manage.  allow everyone to visiting hill opposite the street
w/ a bandaged picture of the human *****
maybe,    he thanks the prostitutes to remember his dreams
I roll slip must belong to the order's face;
oh, now it's mid-lady from morning to night,
the fate of the Queen by medicines; The language of both
the starting field football's daughter watching the head
of the hidden life socks that beam out of the skin
is not visitor crazy Museum wants to be stupid,
thin pen started conversation know, Daniel six six suites
of **** in the wilderness, he left a clear sense of the ghost;
simply the first drinks, happy hiding warm mocked
be regarded as the goddess,  & widely casts    a lot of light,
rise ye away the sweat of the enemy,
had been to the mountain,
sat down by 1 day of the advance of Attorney
to the greater movement of the lucid propaganda,
always keeping the Jewish prospect
is toward the Society of Mary, the permission
of the individual; a stranger to the mountain-barrier,
& the street of the bandaged picture
of a human *****,               rendering thanks to God
the seller & I remember having dreams,
a matter of note is the visitor, harmful
to the Museum,                               cheese w/ a fool,
a small pen began messaging to overturn
a jack six of six & clothing dregs
of The Wilderness in the dying,
& fully in the sense they gave up the ghost
absolutely first to meet a man, happy life,
the dark, the warm-up of the game
will be like a goddess widely loved in the light of God,
they see the enemy,     more sweat,
itching is set to 1 on the attorney at the pool always
magnificent Jews such company manage
each visit the hill opposite the street w/ ashes
on the board to give the human *****,
prostitutes came dreams, remember roll fallen crew
1 sheath to buy face now, Alas, the lady's mean
by from the morning watch even until night
by mendicants, the fate of the queen;    The language
of both the starting field football's daughter watching
the head of the hidden life socks talking radius zone
to w/out the visitor to the crazy Museum wants to be stupid,
this pen started the conversation to know Daniel
& these men, drink, ***,          clothing sediment wilderness,
he left a clear sense ghost simply the first thing
were seen, that the happy life of a part of it is dark,
warm-up from the training school shall come to pass,
as the goddess of vast diameter of the light,
& stand forth in the sweat of relief from the enemy,
that he had been there in the mount,    & he sat down
to me this day, there are Flights to the major movement
of the propaganda lucid, always keeping the Jewish prospect
is toward the Society of Mary,
the permission of the individual
a stranger to the mountain,
the opposite of the street of a fascist image
of the human *****, thanks be to God,
such as Argyle socks & he spoke according
to the rays of the skin,           to hear why he is the visitor,
harmful to the Museum of Cheese w/ a fool,
I took hold of the pen he began to till I might send anger,
to overthrow, Jack, this drink & the supply of clothing
& the dregs are in the wilderness of him that dieth,
he is fully a sense, gave up the ghost qualification
in the first to meet a bear robbed of her drink,
'blessed are aspect of life', held spellbound;      A Rarity
warm-up goddess widely mocked be love light sweat
& the enemy behind makeup before a lake suitable
to the day clear attorney always in control
of the Jewish one's company to visit the grave
of bandaged pictures of the human ***** on the street
as prostitutes actions to slip, so remember
to roll dreams,     Oh, face the lady, now Queen Fate
of the drug of the languages of morning & midnight

Pen me a thousand verses
of hatred, of love, of peace;
pen me a thousand verses,
o'er those clouds of sorrows.

Pen me a thousand verses
to sail the ocean of emptiness,
accept failures of bygone days,
for there is always tomorrow.

Cry the most beautiful pain,
pen a thousand verses again;
shadow of fears will then end,
moon will illumine the night.

Pen verses for a heart to mend,
profound words are explained,
'nother chapter of life will begin;
pen verses of the journey's fight.

This here...my heart is a book
Sadness and hope inhabit most pages
Marred by past experiences that took
Scribbled are the ironies and broken adages

Worn pages tainted by the lowest of my days
Dark ink leave them smeared and stained Fresh ones stay crisp; free from nays
Awaiting dreams and wishes I have not gained

Silent are the pages still left unwritten
As though I have saved them for something
For future chapters yet to happen
For you to come and begin your writing

Welcome the pen that would herald a new start
Imagined it's ink to bear the flightiest notions
It would speak in volumes ensnaring the heart
It would sing a song with the sweetest of emotions

Seep in, dear ink, into my pages past and new
Seep through, dear ink, feel free to make your mark
Seep strong, dear ink, maybe you could undo
Seep true, dear ink, and bring light to the dark

But rip not the old for they forever will speak
Lessons that are learnt, strength that was bestowed
Tears that's been shed, happiness that I seek
Gloom that was braved, hope that I have sowed

Come, my heart is your book
You are the sole pen to my infinite pages
Ink are your words that would fill every nook
Eternal is the bond that would last through ages

This here...the rest of the pages are yours
Occupy them as you have in my everyday
I was saving them not knowing my course
Almost as if I knew you'd come to pen the words you'd say

A promise as sure as the sun would rise
A promise made as good as the noblest of men
My book is open to our laughs and cries
As long as you would forever remain my pen

Pen, write me a story.
Tell me about the one
where the princess gets caught
by an evil monster
and an Italian plumber
becomes her true prince.

Tell me! Tell me or better yet
write me novels and novelas
full of words worshipping
each other
in ballads of the single
soldier who marched into war
and found love at the end of March.

Describe to me the tragedy
of the long lost stories
of those who couldn't
write their stories down
because their adventures
ended prematurely by
their death or the death
of their authors.

Read me bedtime
stories, Pen! A Once Upon a time
where a dragon captured a girl
just so that he could writhe
twist and roll in his mounds
of stolen gold.

Pen tell me a joke!
Make me laugh. Make
it a long one full of
details but make it flow,
sort of like a pen in
stand-up comedy.

Show me a better world
where the leaves
linger to their Autumn colors
of yellow, reds, browns,
and everything in between
including green.

Alas, tell me pen.
A poem.
Keep it sweet.
Keep it slow.
Keep it full
of whispering words
that curve into the very
depths of where flesh meets
the soul. Please pen just one.

I remember when you were four
I caught you drawing on the wall
I couldn't get mad
Instead I just laughed
And I still have
The finger print painting
that you made
In fact I had it framed
I have every art piece you made
To remind me that your always here
with me spiritually

All These tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's
Holding you in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

We were at the hospital
I was sitting beside your bed
And you wiped the tears
Underneath my eyes
Then I heard you say
Daddy please don't cry
I like it better when you smile
So I smiled
Don't say no goodnights or goodbyes
Yeah princess your my little fighter
My inspiration, my perfection
My saviour, my hope, my strength
Your everything I am
I'll carry that with me forever

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's
Holding you in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

I still remember
when I heard the doctor say
(There's no heart rate)
That line still haunts me
Your mother and I fell to the floor
Neither of us wanted to get back up
It felt like we cried for hours
And then I felt
something give me strength
Then I remembered what you said
Daddy please don't cry
I like it better when you smile
So I pulled myself back up
from the floor
Took your mother in my arms
Carried her back to the car
You were every step
You were every breath

All These tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

I still remember when
I heard the priest say
May she rest with angels
watching over her
May they share there
infinite love on high
May they protect
her blessed soul
Let the Lord take her
Into his loving arms
To keep her safe from harm
I said Amen to that princess
And I've seen you in the stars
Yeah you'll never be to far
For we are always
With in each other's hearts

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

Sometimes I sit in your empty room
Imagine you playing, drawing
Creating all those games
You used to play
With your vivid imagination
A world of your creation
It's like your still here
I can feel your essence
I can feel your presence
In this place
It's where I go to relive your memory
That you left for me

All these tear drops
That fall upon the page
Creating smudged ink stains
As this pen bleeds
Words drenched in sorrow
An empty heart slowly fades
Can't seem to find a way
To release all this pain
Can't seem to find the words to say
I miss you each and everyday
Can't find a logical reason to explain
Why you were taken away

Can't forgive God
For what he's done
Just hope he's holding
You in his arms
Keeping you safe and warm
You got the voices of angels
Who can serenade
And sing you to sleep
And I'll keep you safe
Inside of your dreams

©2018 Written By Benji James

The words coming out from this poem were sad!

This memory I had hidden away had found away to get out. My pen embraced it knowing every word would break it. 

As i looked at my pen and it's ink winked at me, I whispered to it you not ready to write this memory. 

my pen lashed out angry at me! Dropped out from my hand reminding me it's the reason I'm able to breath. 

It's ink has been loyal to every memory I have let free, it makes me smile when I write reading words that are so deep. 

So my poetry stepped in put my pen in my hand, told us we need each other, with out either one well both go mad.  

So I allowed that memory to speak! The pens ink began to think from happiness and all laughter to the madness so much sadness.

My pen begged me to stop writing, understood why this memory was hidden away from reality. 

My question was not been answered! So i asked again? Can I eat the ashes of your burned figed leaf? 

But the time stopped ticking a broken pen is all I had in my hand not breathing.

JidosReality 9.10.16

My pen is
not Don Quixote.
It is a brave warrior
just like Don Quixote but
different in battle field.
This my pen is a
General in the
people's army.
It never retreats
or surrenders,
a workaholic.
My pen can be
pesky at times
but not unruly,
and not really a gentleman,
it is an erratic genius.
A minister of peace,
a councillor in crisis,
an advocate in justice,
a passionate lover,
prophetic in utterances,
intuitive and psychic in nature,
it  reads and knows your mind.
My pen,
common but uncommon,
ordinary but extraordinary,
a two edged sword,
piercing the physical even
deeper and penetrating to the
dividing line of the breath of life
and the spirit and of joints
and marrows of the deepest
part of our nature,
exposing and sifting,
analysing and judging
the very thoughts
and purposes of the heart.
My pen is unique,
stealth in action,
a smooth talker,
loves to be held
and pampered.
It has no time to check time.
My pen,
this my pen is my friend.
A good company indeed.
A covert operator.

©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

The blank paper stared at me for long
Wishing, I wield the pen to paint with ink
As my mind is heavy with thoughts
Blank paper offers me the space to share
Myriads of thoughts and deepest emotions
How effortlessly the blank paper draws me
Out of my slumber, to pen down the words
When the pen touches the paper
It connects my soul and heart to the blank space
Waiting for me to fill the white space with emotions
Offering me an easy access to let go
And express with eloquence, over pristine canvas
Painting the most intricate designs with words
Times when spoken words become few
And the only path for me is to compose
It does not complain if the composition goes awry
Being a true companion without being judgmental
Not weary of my erratic thoughts and going wayward
After all, everyday it brings me to the table
That’s the path which I am drawn towards
Without being wary of the world, I pen down my thoughts
The blank paper always waits for me to wield the pen
And the ink flows again to chronicle my thoughts

Perhaps it was too soon
but time will tell me that
it was the right time when
it got loose out of my pocket.

The agony of the lost ink pen
given to me by my grandfather
is not that it had a thick nib
that glided though sheets
of stories, gave track
to trains of thoughts.

The agony is that, I wanted
the pen to be the living proof
in his posterity, or mine
that he was a good man, and
only grabbed by the ills of habits
and inability to control one's mind
did he speak bad with others.

I had a hard time, gulping the loss
like the hardened blob of mucus
too difficult to shove down the throat
but too difficult to push it out.

But then I had no other option,
I could sulk in the moment for long,
or I could imagine that these poems,
are what would show him a good man,
despite his odds of the world against.
I'm the ink and the ink pen
and not what got lost.

For this body too is borrowed,
expenses not more than
what bought the ink pen.
Of course grandfather would
probably get angry if told.

So the agony of the lost ink pen
is that it got lost, but also found
by someone. May the person
find good use of it.

How to describe the third person,
In third person; while your eyes are
Still ******, to the world' curses:
Who says we're too different, as we
Feel magnificent, but indifferent to
Their efficient, who aren't so innocent.

But we stay vigilant, to feel certain.

Ring, ring,

Goes the call to my head,
Asking if we're heading in the
Right direction, when we're in
Over our head. Could it be red,
Could it be read? To title myself
An open book, as Nowadays it's,

Either bled or blend.

A Cinderella without her feet,
Would she in the end find her Prince?
Or would she be stepped by step sisters;
And each other's many conflicts.

I'd still watch that flick.

A Pinocchio, nosey for the
Smell of flesh. He'd tell a lie,
To get under a dress. But how
Long would he reply on a lie;
To seem like he could impress.

I'd enjoy that, I must confess.

Or if a Snow white, never met a kiss,
But instead remained fast asleep.
Or never really needed a Prince.
But a huntsman, to guard herself,
By teaching her his survival tricks.

That ending kind of fits.

But why do we use made up
Fairy tales, to ferry well, on the
Endless waves of life, just to sail.
We never really measure the details,
Because we're too busy weighing our
Problems on a broken scale.

Pinheads disguised as a nail

Don't miss your step in life,
You could be close to a misstep.
Who'd forget a first cut of a knife;
As you're always on the cutting-edge.
Thinking little of moments, but what if
That little moment had it's last breath.

You'd cherish every little moment instead.

Finally,

Poetic flow, in my pen
Is always a river of words.
Seems to grown into an Ocean,
As you can hear the Waves and Birds.
Smelling the scent of salts,
Weighing heavy on your hearts.
Drowning in my deep thoughts.

Hoping to cross,
To meet the end of my pen.
But perhaps the end is the source,
And the source are thoughts,
You follow along in due course.

A pen of flow at the water's edge;
A building wave,
Prepare yourself for what's ahead.
Ahead of the tip of my pen.
As I don't write words of boys and girls,
This pen held by ten thousand women and men.

                                 The Pen's flow

My pen write me
That reveal me
Whatever want speak
Take a pen and
remove your bleak
The pen is might
Don't afraid it fight
Some people think it
A piece of dry stick
The pen is good partner
Never feel alone with partner
The pen reveal you
When sad
The pen reveal you
When laugh
Get the positive
Viewpoint
Be the fellow
Get join
It can weep
When sorrow
It can sing
When you cry

inuidere nobis rectius *** digitis fricantur ex agro eu diei ab aestu et meretrices stripper ventum - to envy, w/ greater right & w/ our fingers, that were harlots, strippers, rubbed from the field of football in the daytime from the heat & the wind



Black girl who was betrothed to his mother & they love the ***, naked as the day & a night the redness, or the good of the poets of the form of the dead body is a beautiful; But what, perhaps, you have white in it, with the dung of a white snooch, & an old man, have thou respect unto his voice & the heat is & America, & consider these things, and they found a piece of a piece of a piece and then stick the lead to set taxes to king into a face-to-face are and queen when she did not leave a child whose name was among the old names out of poetry is difficult defiled your mind into the chamber in a battle poet & the stars in the old saying goes, it is seeking money from the land of the weaker in the thought that death has lost her hairy kid, I do not know the blood is no more baby; every dog ​​in blue & the city from the gate drinks in the sea, by the appearance of the goddess & apparel was of alum to the house of their fathers, toward the interior of Antonius will perform for the well-favored harlot, a kid of the goats, for one, nor memorial, in his prose writings, composing pieces, a lot of words & so that I feel wash, paint does not drink & fruit osculating these apples w/ wild animals & the removal of Barbies, this is a gay rock out of the hole; cool Man rock? from the songs of them who said, many things that the mothers of Tarquin in the pride & confidence in the criminal cases from a few to negotiate a Sarmatian tribe; But you, but if not better than running a gift, in which the § time-fire dark brown to dark brown in the center in the child's case, you should, because they were not lacking in strength, leaving it as it is brought into me & the wind having attained the age of friendship & the arms as far as you want to, according to the nature of the gem of the brain, most of all after the yolk is a walk of a revolution of the society, the dance, online & the feet of the French & had heard of the guys; they were filled w/ smoldering fire to Talk is a dream, little by little & the gold, in the yellow; & they stood in the very creation of things & he put up to a higher level so to seek the sky by itself can be compared, in order that we can walk & do not continue; the fingers & the power of the vain pen of the scribes has to speak to the machine to learn more, there is the body, not even the bunk is celebrated in the celebrated Wolfe, to the workings of Satan, in the bottom a fat dog, St. Anthony, angels, which together w/ about a robot burnt-out case, the rich & the daughters of strippers from Indonesia to Bob & ***** for the first time, which should be able to know that they have 500 bananas, a sixth of evil, or the loss of any man, because it is not raining on me & not you; your ranting is jealous of us & our fingers are rubbed on the football field during the heat of the day from the stripper wind that prostitutes, home to brands, back itching, Einstein's history of earthquakes, such as fire's light; Currently angry, right & bring a lot of power in the corporate bond b/c a stranger in volume stood on the table started off licensed; Women love the mother of the girl who is engaged w/ her black *** exposed, a day & a night, bright red is good for all poets in the form of the body of the dead beautiful; But what you may, have no black in it, w/ the dung of a white snooch, an old man, have thou respect unto his voice & the heat is, & America, & I thought that they found a piece of a piece of a piece of, as well as a piece of wood w/ lead, to speak, which he placed the forced labor that King Solomon used, were of the form & from the face of to the face of the feminine & to the queen, though it never departed from the child who was among the ancients who called it the poetic, full of difficult sisters who had been defiled by thy spirit to be the chamber on high, in the battle, the poet, & the stars of old said, 'what he is seeking money' of the land of the weaker *** in the thought itself lost by death as hair falls from the goats, for you do not know the blood of the man, does better baby every ***** & of blue & the city's gateway to the sea by the appearance of the goddess & apparel was by Antonius, who will perform their own families of the drinks, the shredded; toward the interior side of the well-favored harlot, a young goat & the memory of his prose writings, he composed pieces, a lot of words, & thus it is that I may feel didst I wash thyself, & didst paint thy will, not drink of the fruit of the, yech, this precious fruits w/ a wild animal is an animal and the removal of Barbie, this is a gay rock out of the hole; T cool is what I & Anne, the rock of the songs of them who said that in his pride, & in their security & from a few of the great criminals of avenging the mothers have in the Sumatra tribe; but it is to you, but, except ye than a running gift, in which there was the § time of the fire, the dark brown to brown, the center of the child's regard, you should, as it were no lack of forces, leaving to you, which can not be inflicted by me, he is the spirit of, & the force of, the wind & the arms, a precious stone, after the yellow year of the walk, even to the years of friendship, according to the nature of the brain's most sci-fi revolutions of society, online French, her feet, & the Talk filled with smoldering dances heard the guys in gold in the dream of yellow; Standing in the creation itself, which turned to a deeper search of heaven can be compared, in order to walk, & I did not stay fingers & the power of the pen of the scribes to speak to the machine to learn more, there is the body, not even the bunk celebrated by Wolfe, to the workings of Satan, at the bottom, & the fat of the dog, St. Anthony, that the angels are on the one w/ a robot of these smoking firebrands, for the rich man & the daughters of the strippers from Indonesia, to Bob & her ***** for the first time, which will be able to to know they do not have 500; I have a banana is the sixth, there is the evil of, or, to the loss of any man: for it had not rained upon me & not you; [are ranting be jealous of us make with our fingers, are rubbed from the football field in the heat of the day from the stripper winds them that prostitutes], comes home to the brands of designers disposed off the rack & the wall & he will slay the Remarkably, that is, the movement of the motion in the shade; Jews have been the fate of the radio, the old & children leather kiss garden with a call angel soccer watch football pipe is quite common to see stay in dance teeth of Einstein's history of earthquakes, like the fire light Currently angry right to bring a lot of power in the corporate bond b/c stranger in volume stood on the table started off license; They love the women, the girl married his mother naked as the day & night; the long red the good of the black *** of him is brighter than the place of the loveliest of all the poetic form of the body parts of the year, is dead; now it is out of the black with the dung of a white snooch, an old man in the great heat & America, & I thought that they found a piece of a piece of wood is related to the forced labor that King Solomon were in the figure, from the face of the face, feminine & to the queen, it never departed from the child among the ancients, poetry is the hard ******* mind, the chamber of the war poet, female, stars, let them say what they want the money, the underworld of the *** is the real thing; thinking of the lost by death a hair fall from the kids who did not know the blood of the man, does better baby, every ***** &, of blue & of the city, the entrance into the sea by the appearance of the goddess, & the apparel was by Antonius, their families & the families of the drinks, the interior of the shredded turned to the side of the well-favored harlot & the young goat being torn into pieces, a lot of words & it is to feel didst wash thyself & didst paint thyself, yeh, never again drink of this fruit of the wild animal of the animal is an animal, of Barbie, this is the stone gay out of the hole T cool is that John D out of the rock songs of those who said that Tarquinius on the super bus, who was together with his cursed; a few in the supply of the teacher of the mothers in Sumatra one of among you, but unless you are running free in the coot which is § of time, the water, the dark brown center of the child, since matter is exactly as if it lacks the powers, leaving us wet with me like a gust of wind force & his armor & a precious jewel behind the yellow was a walk to the years of friends one by the nature of the brain's most sci-fi revolution of the society, online French the feet of the wick, he will not be filled w/ a ****** dancing; Talk I have heard the guys it belongs to, the gold, the dream of yellow, he asked the rising of the dog, filthy, silently making beams for the eating together of the mirror of the evils of everything, need're pretty sure the evils of ping Menesius; a small thing, chaste as a gift of silver, of them who slew Christ, by way of similitude of the park in the bed, which is a black magic, and drink ye every one in the flesh, we read that in the ages of the ages, the invisible, the food to them that sat clinically, Moses stood in the creation of which turned every way to seek the superior heaven be compared to one another; as ye walk & not to have known the sacred palaces of the fingers there is a sound; At first pen of the scribes! talk to machine learning, there is still evading Woolf the operation of Satan with the dregs of fat from the dog; Anthony angels of one robot smoking with the rich, the daughter strippers to Bob ***** first time that a person can know the 500 banana sixth to the injuries, I do not; you are ranting is the rain of kisses with the fingers, Cookie rubs the football field, the heat from the stripper winds them that are harlots, thou torches of pregnant affected by the torture of the walls to **** the monster Bettie the sand of the many Chinese with the spirit of the glass is mad: the check does not strives to hinder her to be a mutation of borage on have gotten me; I felt the uncertainties of the fact over the flattery of the angle of the beloved city: news of the gift shall not be mentioned to him; Remarkably, that is, the motion from the motion of the shadow of the Jews was the fate of the radio, the oldest & daughter wilderness leather kiss garden w/ a call angel soccer watch football pipe is quite common to see stay with dance teeth in the light of Einstein's history of earthquakes angry & leaf of the fire Currently properly bring power to impose a "corporate bond" b/c the stranger in volume stood on the table & started off w/ license; They love women, the girl married my mother, naked as the day & night, w/ long red good black *** brighter than space would be most beautifully poetic form the body from the country per year is dead black, with the dung of white snooch, the old place is great for heat & America & I thought they found a piece of wood which king Solomon said had the appearance of the face-gob queen, has not left the boy poetry of the ancient living mind hard ******* room of war poets; a woman said the money would stars hell *** real thinking about death lost the hair of the kids knew that blood is better makes the baby every ***** & the blue of the of the city, the entrance into the sea, the goddess' families, the communities of the drinks, the inside of the alum turned to the side of the well-favored harlot a kid in pieces, a lot of words and deed to feel didst wash thyself, paint thyself, yeh, not to drink of the wild beast of Barbies, this is the story about a gay cool tease; the hole's to keep Ivan's songs of rock melts into a small lady; mothers in Russia unless you are running free in the coot phases, water brown, young material completely, leaving wet w/ blind force & arms are precious; my black & yellow walk year of his friends; nature of the brain mainly revolutionary society, online French feet, smoking filled with ****** dancing talking; I heard guys cared for the golden dream blonde, asking the *****'s original school secret floor; eating glass the spirit of evil brought to the club pretty sure evil genius **** gift of a silver slew Christ at the park in bed because she is my magic God & drink the flesh read end to the invisible, the food that sat standing; a creature that turned every way, to the air as you walk, it is not sacred houses toes sound when you first meet the pen of the scribes talk to slip out activity of Satan right machine learning, **** angels of one of the richness of the dog Antony's robot, smoking a rich man's daughter strippers; Bob friends saw her ***** first broken by man to know, understand, banana Friday wood & shall never be more accurately maintain the rain kiss his fingers & rubbed football field intensity stripper & favorite prostitutes torches pregnant attachment of guns on walls & **** the monster Bettie, in the sand many Chinese ghosts were buried w/ the check, hidden in the glass of the madness of the conversion; I'm not lean for instance, that there is a change in the gypsy of Borage on; I felt the light of the cause is as uncertain, the corner of the streets of the city which he loved & of loving Maecenas in the gift of Christ is not remembered against him; his marvelous month, which is the movement from the movement of the shadows of that which was the Jew's mom to hold the fate of the radio, the oldest daughters wilderness, in leather kiss garden angel calling soccer watching the sweating gun is quite common to see the whole stay in the dance's teeth penetrate the lights Einstein's story in an earthquake, fire is hot leaf state in an upright manner agreeable to bring the goddess' b/c the stranger in the volume of corporate bond stood up table started off w/ a license; they love the poor women of the girl's wife, for the eyes of the Mother of the man is naked, at midday there a long red the good of the black *** of him to be clearer than the space of the future, most beautifully poetic form the body of the land of the years my dead out of the black with dung are white snooch old age is a place for the great of the heat that is America, he thought, however, to find a piece of wood which was of gold the beauty of the face-**** queen has not left the boy poetry the old living mind hard is ******* room war poet woman said the money would stars hell the *** real thinking of death lost hair the kids knew that blood is better makes the baby all ***** & the blue city entrance of a great sea goddess Igor hands Community was drunk at the inside alum turned to the side of the well-favored harlot a kid in pieces, guy to the mouth of the of the work, to feel the wash yourself, paint, yeh, the wild animal & drunk Barbie, this stone of the hole's gay cool to retain Ivan's song of the rock, sweet food the lady noticed the mothers of the Russians, but the book of the course of the state of the under the window, the water brown in reality the young men of the material of the deep, perfect, leaving wet with the blind force of arms but the lips I write back w/ & yellow walking year of his friends nature of the brain mainly revolutionary society, online French feet, smoking soul filled w/ ****** dancing talk is heard guys care gold dream blonde asked ***** origin school secret floor eating glass spirit of evil brought club pretty sure evil genius ****; The gift of the silver, put to death the Christ, the park of the bed, the sister of the magic of the gods of the drink, the land of the flesh, I bequeath to the top of the invisible things of God with fasting many as he sat to conquer standing on the creature that turned every way, of the air as you walk, not to sacred orders, only the house of toes blow ye with the other before the collision the pen of the scribes, speaking to the fall of the power of Satan, the right machine learning, **** the angels of one of the richness of a dog Antony seas robot rich man's daughter strippers smoking alchemy, Bob of friends saw **** first boxing mortals know, understand Muse Friday tree blasts forever to more accurately place rain kiss his fingers and rubbed football field intensity stripper wind prostitutes torches pregnant feeling the guns on the walls are to **** the monster Bettie; many Chinese ghosts checking buried, hidden under the mirror of a madman, I'm not made lean as much as a change in a gypsy borage; I felt the light of the explanation of sleep a corner of the streets of the city he loved a lover of Maecenas of Christ, I remember wonderful Ladies who are moved by the beating of the shadows of what was to a Jewish mom to hold the fate of the radio, the oldest of the daughters of the wilderness, miss leather kissing in the garden where an angel calls soccer; watching the gun is looking sweaty enough to see by natural teeth dance stayed hot in the hairy lights of Einstein's story of earth moving leaf state fire done properly withdrawn bring the Goddess wear real b/c volume table starts to read down corporate tie newcomer stood wave license withdrawn; And they love the women, the girl married his mother naked as the day and a night the long red the good of the black *** of him is brighter than the space of this very beautifully, when the poetic form of the body region of the year of my dead out of the black with the dung of a white snooch, their old place in the great heat of America, & I thought that they found a piece of a piece of wood of the forced labor that King Solomon used were in the shape of the face, **** the queen, did not he let the boy in the ancient poetry, his hard ******* mind living room war poet; female stars saying they want money, hell, *** is the real thing; thinking of the lost by death a hair falling from the kids; they knew that the blood of man does better than baby ***** every time & of blue & of the city, the entrance into the sea & by the appearance of the goddess & apparel was Antonius, their families & the families of the drinks in the interior of alum, turning to the side of the well-favored harlot even a young goat being torn into pieces, a lot of words, and it is to feel didst wash thyself, and didst paint thee, yeh, I will not drink of the fruit of the wild beast of the beast of Barbie, this is the stone about gay cool ribbed tee of the hole's; there, that John's out of the rock songs is dripping with a small amount of the mistress of the mothers in Sumatra one of you, unless you are running free in the coot § times of the water, brown, boy, the material is totally lacking, leaving us wet as if a gust of wind force & arms are a precious back yellow walk; year of his friends nature of the brain mainly revolution society, online French feet smoking is filled with ****** dancing talk, I heard guys carrying the golden dream blonde asking the ***** the original school secret; floor eating glass evil spirits were brought club pretty sure bad pinging ****** a little bit too ****, the gift of the things of silver, of them who slew Christ, by way of a comparison w/ the park & bed; that it is magic & drink ye every one of the flesh, we read of the ages, invisible, the food is to them that sat clinical standing in the creation of the turning every way, to the upper air as you walk not to have known the sacred palaces of the fingers of the sound of the first the sense comes pen of the scribes to speak machine learning, just let the man escape Wolfe to the working of Satan, the dregs are at; the fat that of a dog, Anthony, the angels of one robot, smoking w/ a rich man is the daughter of strippers w/ lichen for Bob's ***** first knew the man to know the understanding of the 500 muses; the sixth to the log, not ranting in the rain, kissing w/ the fingers are rubbed the football field heat of the stripper the wind, that were harlots; the torches of pregnant affected by the torture of the walls to **** the monster Bettie, the sand of the many Chinese of the Spirit glass; mad checking was not an impediment to lean it to be a mutation of borage Glory on, I felt uncertain because the angle of the city he loves loving & Overview of the gift is not remembered against him; that is astonishing, that is, the movement of the noise from the movement of the shadow of which to the Jews was given to the fate of the radio, the oldest of the daughter of the wilderness of the hide of the kiss of the garden he calls an angel soccer watch football the fistula is quite common to see remaining in the whole of the dance, the teeth of the skin & the light, by means of Einstein's story of the earth, the movement, he was angry w/ himself & the leaf of fire, Currently correctly bringing the goddess foreign to "corporate" bond, b/c he is a stranger in volume stood on the table started off w/ license;
Black girl, his mother loves her *** exposed, day & night, flushed poet form carcass fair, what is perhaps the white **** from the white snooch, the old man gives attention to his voice, & heat, & America, & with these, & they found a piece of a piece of a piece as well wood & lead to tax the king in a face-to-face you & the queen do not leave a child who was w/ the old nanny of poetry; easily prostituted your mind to the chamber in line poet & the stars in the old saying, that in the form of power of God, the worship of God, & alum, & in the house of their fathers, the inside is brought to Antonius; part of the things are purchased wanton they are in the form of God, well-favored harlot, & a kid of the goats, for one thing, & one thing nor memorial, in his prose writings, he composed parts of a lot of the words of the, I think, & wash the paint, I will not drink of the fruit of the beasts of the field I have given to the fruits that thy ****** & the fruit of the theory of osculating this was new & the removal of Barbies, that is to say, from the cold of the Holy Spirit out of the rock of a cave, which is a stone about gay? & the pride of such a kind that of Tarquin the Proud, & his mother, of the song, confidence quite as much in God's dealing w/ cases & a Sarmatian tribe, from them that & in a few words? Nevertheless, both if not more than running after him, a gift of God, as described in the § in the time of a fire, the dark brown to brown, thick in the center of the infant's cause, it was granted to me, as being the things that are not lacking in him, that he must leave, which is to me the spirit, & stood in the creation of the air everywhere seeking higher compared to the walk into the vacuum machine; You might pen of the scribes to speak & to learn more, the body is, do not celebrate, we celebrate from the bunk in the celebrated, would have celebrated Wolfe, to the working of Satan, in the bottom, & the fat of the dog, of St. Anthony, & the angel, which is one, takes out the robot on fire in the city, & of all the cases, & the rich, & the daughters of strippers; developer to Bobbed ***** soon knowing that he has 500 bananas, a sixth is bad, or the loss of any one of you that you are ranting that the rain falls on me to begrudge her fingers the lowest battle field between the heat of the day from stripper winds that *******, home to brands off the rack, itching Einstein's history of earthquakes in the line of firepower to light; Currently, the angry farmer on the corporate board spoke volumes, stood on a table & started off w/ a license

Noon; I swear by what the angels write,
When I met you the world bloomed in me, with flowers far and wide
Ahh of all times you have chosen winter to come
Its so cold here that I cant even feel my thumb
The snow falls into a pretty pile
Lets go and sledge, then drink a hot chocolate after a while
But in reality, I am sitting here on my chair
Trying to write new poems, ideas are quite rare
With pen in hand I will try my best
And see this as some kind of  a test
Until I may or may not run out of ink
Until I may am not able to think
And until I just want to sink into my bed
Ah my pen, you are so pretty, you're elegant and sweet
Documenting stuff with you is really so neat
Please pen write on


~ Umi

I'm writing the story of my life,
  and I'm not letting anyone hold the pen.
      The pen is mightier than the sword.
    I'll write out all my pain, damage, fear.
                I'll shoot for the moon,
     even if I miss I'll land among the stars.
  They all told me that because of my past,
     I could never become anything great,
              that I'd never have success,
                  never be good enough,
   that what they did to me was my fault.
                   I wanted to grow up.
                          I finally did.
                 I excaped their torture.
            Now, I keep writing my story.
             Write. Edit. Change. Repeat.
        I'm not even completely grown up.
                                 2 years.
                 But it's happening now...
         I've started toa ture into an adult.
                     Frankly, I'm scared.
           I'm not exactly sure what to do.
      I'm taking over sooner than planned,
              I'm working a real job now,
      I'm responsible for sisters well being.
                       I just don't know.
                          But that's ok.
        I have my faith and I have my pen.
I don't want to miss out on the people who
                have me mesmerised...
But how can I captivate them and weave
                       them a story?
       I don't know. I don't know if I can.
      My rythem and rhyme is so unique,
          there's no hope in attempting
     to intertwine another beautiful soul.
           I'm sorry. I just don't know.
                      All I do know is
      The pen is mightier than the sword.

take my pen.
write your own conclusion.

~

take my pen.
scribble your own miseries.

~

take my pen.
jot your own formalities.

~

take my pen.
scrawl your own elegy.

~

take my pen.
compose your own poetry.

~

take my pen
scribing is no use for me.

My pen is my only friend. When imagine thoughts most couldn't think, I merge the ink with the page and release this rage. The thoughts inside this head are things a man should've never said. With my pen I can erase my fears and wipe away my tears. Tears that have been stained in a shy black kid's brain. Without my pen, society has me wrapped in a 100 pound chain. With this pen I get wiser as I get older. My pen is the sword and I am the soldier.

I watch them write
I see in their eyes fight
sweet is the power of the pen

Look at them go
not one is taking it slow
Christ, oh the power of the pen

They write as fast and concise
they are hell bent in poverty
but rich, with the power of the pen

They fell from that tree
just like you and me
and boy do they write
that is the power of the pen

Trained to make them fast and short
in fantastic dreams and thoughts
laced in fantasy is the power of the pen

And when their lives are over
pushing up daffodils and clover
they will be remembered,from then
by the power of the pen


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris