My Feather pen

I’d start with a sponge
to the lead feet of L.A.
who slam fists to steering wheel
blindfolded and pissed,
redirect wasted fingertips
from spray paint can
to paint brush,
and take the switchblades
from their lonely minds
desperate to be a crow
in the crowded murder.

I’d rewrite the world
from outside the
leather wallets,
become a corporate robin hood,
break down the big
and spread the coins
to mom and pop.

I’d shake this generation
of chameleon youth,
put out their cigarettes,
show them the perks
of walking their own step,
and re-teach them
how to use their minds.

Instead I’ll dream in ink
and wish that my pen
would change it all
in well written phrases
because “words are the voice
of the heart”*
and mine screams.

*Confucious