The Poets.

in OCD2 years ago


I come from a tribe,
where our pens swiftly dance
and our hands don't murmur,
when we put our hearts in words and texts.

In the dynasty where I belong,
we prefer using our pen as a microphone,
our sheets as our voice,
crying and calling on change,
for the revolution of our generation.

In the kingdom where I belong,
though we are despised,
and our voices are sometimes shut by the listeners,
though we are termed "liars", "good for nothing."

We don't give up on our passion, writing is our fashion,
as we can modify it to our preferred version,
we hope with our pen, we build a hopeful mansion.

We are poets, curled up in our own thoughts and notes,
married to our microphone,
and focused on making the world better.

Thank you for your time.

My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.

Still me,

My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.


Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order


So beautiful!!!!

Mammmmmmaaaaaa!!! I wanna scream some more. Yaaaaaaaay!!!

That tribe you belong to where words are pen down must have changed the world in their passion for a bleeding pen. Pen in our era is the strongest weapon against discrimination, injustice and corruption. Beautiful lines

Absolutely. The pen wields so much power and is more dangerous than the pen. You have spoken so accurately. Well done.

Yes I too belong to this tribe and I am proud of it, thank you for expressing this so beautifully, we are here to inspire xxx

Yaaaay! Yes, we are here to inspire and change the narrative of how the world should be.
Thank you so much for this.