Pen is mightier than the sword

Pen is mightier than the sword
Writing what I think, before I say it!

Tuesday, July 26, 2011


It has come to this
war of the words and these words against the world
truth is, you ain't ready to hear the message we spit
expressing are deepest thoughts from mind to pen
open books letting lose closed spirits,
beating hearts bump to everything we vent

they don't want to advertise us
they don't want to televise us
listeners are afraid to subscribe to us
politicians don't want to ride with us
they beep are messages, "its in God we trust"
but you can't convince the devils helpers
so are words will eventually die with us

see no wants to hear clearly, so they make noise while we are speaking
very few want us to demonstrate proof to what we are reading
the scary truth is
that we speak truth in volumes
so they block all sounds, when they fear what they are hearing

liars representing the public want to;
sensor our words
gag our mouths,
cut off our tongues
inject us with hallucinates to make us forget!!
What we think, has to stay trapped in the undergrounds we run
they should never meet the surface
or touch the radio air ways
because someone might just listen

Our every word is combine to form lines
and these very lines end with action words
that end in rhyme
rhymes are reason to bring you back to define the last line
are reasons need no reasons when we recite and write
on the dotted line

I heard the pen is mightier than the sword
though when we're collabing with the tongue
it always seems to cause damage, while striking cords
Its funny how we are all free to speak our minds
but what comes out of our mouths,
seem to instigate verbal wars
and with these restrictions
poetry is the beginning of hurt and truth
oppositions are forming enemies
by creating haters through spoken word youths
with untruthful scores of hated words
through rappin spoofs

truth speaks volume, as lies influences minds
truth hurts ratings, but empty venues are on the rise
filled seats mean profits
cancelled shows, is a lost of ap publics interest
leaves your viewers going for an exit to catch an artist message
spoken word is a gain to add names to minds at lost
lost is when we make up the majority of listeners
listeners are the seat fillers, paid billers,
insuring you, your poetry venues don't get lost

we are spreading like diseases,
for a wild flower we are agitating weeds
we are your commercials
inserts in books you read
we are the exhale and inhales
the hungry wants before your needing
we are the cuts, and then the band aids
when words inflict pain to wounds that are bleeding
we revive you, when you die on us speaking your thoughts
I guess we are the reason why you're still breathing

I'm reaching out to all my poets
I know of the struggles sometimes
make your heart hurt like mine
cause we are force to hold back what we think and say,
this inner connection to what we feel displays on face
bodies filled with wordily suppression
heart pumps for oxygenated expression
thoughts are release in messages and make some kind of connection
these expression start with us saying
saying produces sounding of words
words we speak to become spoken heard
Fear of hearing makes outsiders neglect us
it took this long for readers and listeners to accept us
slipping on the tongues has leaders rejecting us
So why the fuss???
you created this mis guided madness
procreating off springs to help you correct your issh
now your disappointments make you mad
starring at your wrong doings, might make you laugh
but your laugh in darkness is frown formed like sadness
just admit it,
there's more of us forming in your futures past
don't go against us, jump on the wagon in your path

Let the poets speak messages in poetry,
cause the truth is

By LeRoy Goetzendanner Registered & Protected

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I'm, I am the name that you can say so freely
when your mind comes clear of me
that's when...
inspiration, starts to become the introduction to my nick name
see I remind of you of everything going wrong
so let me explain

Feelings hurt, or should I, as a man, feel some shame
that I'm only a thought through works of painted art
and tainted leakage through pen drops
but my way of treating you, is far from where your mind stops
see your heart may beats to a Congo for me
but when its near me,
well it beats in fear when its here with me, then those loving beats drop
and I'm not sure, if you're praying at the door way before you walk in
or do you anoint my surroundings when I'm not looking
cause the truth is

You and I are looking for a one good day after another
I don't even bother
with 1500 plus cellular minutes to use
my unlimited texting shows 6577 in the month of June
and that's not the good days and reflecting back to good times
those are the unclosed  for the arguing days of petty grays
the nonsense, that's now starting to make sense
so we should have made some kind of sense that day
and like a new pair of slacks unhemed
I need to fix this problem
and get things slightly aligned until its straight
but how can I make such a move
when it feel like I'm Hilary Clinton having a Sarah Palin debate
nah, let me wait
I'll take that back
but let us attempt to be exact... or either on the same page

your diaries of penmanship's shared on pages
graduating and making its way on stages
are plots of confessions that you claim out of your mouth
"it was never written about you, or for you"
I didn't mention your name
So do I feel this much guilt when every line silently calling my name
if wasn't directed towards me
how come days later in a confession of how your feeling indirectly towards me through poetry
I won't take battling a thin line of love and hate
strings hanging, material coming apart like our love
we need to sew together this dividing towards separation
stitch it up, fix this up and for this loving Alteration.

By LeRoy Goetzendanner Registered & Protected


Waiting on the next storm to come
because I like the outcome of storms.
They bring refraction of light in multiple beams
the kind you only find when we daydreaming and wishing
I'm so anxious to feel the greatness and rewards of a emotional-
feeling for another who is feeling for me
no more chasers,
no more excuses about past abuse that made me hide-
in the barriers that keeps me from ever loving again.
Its coming soon, I seen the signs from HIM
So let it rain and storm
until cold showers defeats the humidity of failure
I'm running in the direction where the colors end
to get to my Pot of Gold of loving someone again.

By LeRoy Goetzendanner Registered & Protected