What does a pen do?

well it writes words and draws circles around thoughts

what does a pen do?

um, it doodles and spills ink on these thin lines?

the pen cannot do anything without me

just sits on the corner of my bed and maybe it will roll off

falling on the carpet and then i have to reach down

and pick it up and write more

but what else does a pen do?

i dunno stabbing someone that keeps asking me this?

its a weapon to fight off writers block

ideas like to hide from me but my pen is my light saber

that attacks these blank pages with aggressive force

i force and shove my words on this stupid piece of paper

because it just wastes away until i come along

stomping, biting, digging my aggressive words of wisdom

in between these tiny rows

i squeeze the tip of this pen which is having a hard time

providing the ink when i want it to be read

by a random curious person that happens to stumble

upon this bitch fight between the pen and

the crappy recycled notebook paper

oh how i hate this!

and now a new sheet for me

to express myself

or at least whatever seems to be seeping

from my head at the current moment

but soon it will pass

and so will my gas

and then the room will clear

but not my pen because i am

its master painter

no pen is useful without my strokes

of curiosity and the whimsical nature

that i possess

what good is a pen without rivers

of imagination?

A moment with Rumi

Rumi was a Persian poet who wrote brilliant works a long time ago. He had quite the talent for spilling out some amazing words. The following poem is perhaps one of the greatest phrases of mystical thinking ever written.

“I have lived on the lip
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens.
I’ve been knocking from the inside!”

-Rumi 13th Century