The Pen

poem by Ken Holmes, Summer Solstice 2010

A slinky thing, a pen
Linky, inky, dangerous thing
Imposing words on virgin page
Leaking ideas to rest forever and an age

Iron blade of awesome power
Leaking blood of brain, hour upon hour

 Erect between the fingers' grasping lips
Its creative juices flow
As it writhes and turns the letters scribed

Hand-made paper, man-made ideas
Only knowing eyes can decode
The bookworm will never know
As it gnaws the whore pen's prize
Seduced with language and reason's lies
From a mind reduced
To setting everything into something
And something into words