Why I Write

This pen in my hand
Allows me to express
What I can’t type,
I can’t say,
I can’t hype,
I can’t get across in any other way…

My thoughts swirlin’
From home
To Work
To Iraq
And back…
From coffee with friends
To wars with no end in sight

How do I fight
The forces that kill and maim,
Destroy and tame our souls into complacency?
It’s like our minds have No Vacancy
And our hearts are on vacation, see…

We got credit card bills pilin’
And racial profilin’
Student Loans
And cell phones
Interest-only mortgages
And no good education for our kids

And all I got is this pen.

This pen in my hand is my jihad;
The only sword I have to unsheathe,
The only mode of expressing my beliefs
That gives me some peace,
Some feeling of relief
in the face of all this hypocrisy.

The spread of democracy
With guns and tanks;
They’re not shooting blanks!
They’re real bullets with casings,
Taking lives,
Raping wives…

The irony
And the lies;
The inquiries
And the cries…

But how do I fight
The forces that kill and maim,
Destroy and tame our souls into complacency?
It’s like our minds have No Vacancy
And our hearts are on vacation, see…

And all I got is this pen.

~ by raggiungere on April 25, 2008.