The Pen

My eyes hurt

from looking,

for searching,

from reading

deep into

the intricate

interactions of the

animal,

animated,

digitized

and oblivious

vitriol

weaponized,

attempt to assimilate

or kill.

 

Words are weapons,

of this I am sure,

but something

requiring

a bit more skill,

a bit more knowledge

of the

subject,

the timing

and the enemy.

It used to be

you had to love

before

you could kill.

 

Times change

and words

are now weapons

of distance.

Effective,

but I prefer to close

and get my hands

dirty.

Face to face,

breath to breath,

see this in the eyes;

no fate,

no escape.

Turning out the lights.

 

I’m afraid

our minds don’t do as well

with asymmetrical,

long

distance

conflicts.

We like blood.

 

Snap.

Click.

Chat.

Post your message.

Sing.

Dance.

Lie.

Your big advantage

is just

why

you’re going to lose

if you can’t

drop the ego

and the bullshit.

It’s just not important.

It never was.

 

You’ve been convinced

to carry

the heraldry

of a tribe,

of a cult

of a fucking warlord

and you don’t know

you’re the one

on the front line.

 

Pen.

Paper.

Thought.

Begin again.

Pen.

Paper.

Thought.

Begin again.

 

Mightier than the sword.

 

 

HG – 2019

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