The pen obstructs the word
but you cannot bite the hand that
bleeds your meaning slower
than molasses stuck in sand and
it is mighty, yes indeed, more
than a sword they say, this
creation which helps me create
but bars my way from living
it all at once, the word and
art without a silly piece of paper
which is put so much to shame
by the breathing burning slicing
piece of fire-breathing flame
Cut out the middle man or
so they say and here's the omnipotent
they who are so clear and yet so
vague They who hold the matches.
Monday, March 30, 2009
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