Pens of Rome

If Rome would have me I would still the stone etched

With what it was I still persist begging the stars of Babylon’s fist

Unlock the symbols with calligraphy’s twist

Bending and bowing down reiterating the words I have found

To never hear the zany smirk of literized antics of wasted trees

I am scorn to read the words that win the souls

Set ablaze inside to see the irony of the pride of men

Burnt paper, burnt paper, burnt paper smoldering ash

Rome please take me from this repetitive alphabet

Bring me back to etch the stone with bloody fingers

Soothing pain to the immortal writers souls

Bloody fingers and the seen battle ground

The king, the rocks, the gravel, rolling iron and chariots afire

Hung from the walls of Rome with no fingerprints left

Breathing the air unseated from the digital abyss

Trapped with mortal skin penning pages of irrelevance

Burnable leaves raked in piles of childhood memories

O to slice the rocks of forever trading lines for spaces

Though still trapped by the lines in blank white

How to carve the art the soul deserves the artist desires

Rome if you would have me my fingers would weep walls

Shedding layers of mortal leather paper

My souls scraped leather paper red penned masterpiece

Rome if you would have me I have ten red pens