Alt Text:
Typewriter types a question mark after the words, 'The End'.
Backstory:
Ink, Lead, and Liberty, the title at least, was inspired by a combination of The Pledge of Allegiance's "liberty and justice for all" and The United States Declaration of Independence's "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."
Why did I choose the words 'ink' and 'lead' instead of 'life', 'justice', and 'happiness'? For me ink represents those who have written, shaped, and documented history. Lead represents bullets and/or blades symbolic of the battles fought to shape what we now know as history. Honestly, not everyone gets to fully experience life, justice, or happiness, and if I'm being extra honest, barely anyone experiences true liberty. Why did I keep that word then in my poem's title? Simple, because that's what I believe ink and lead are about. Our words and our deeds shape how enslaved or free we all may live, and in those freedoms we win, therein we may find life, justice, and the pursuit of happiness.
The point I try to make at the end of my poem isn't one of whether life is worth living if we can't write our stories as we want them. It's that when pledges, allegiances, and declarations are written, (or any creed for that matter), they should account for changes and allow for those changes necessary to propel a people forward rather than hold them back for the sake of tradition and keeping the status quo. Safety doesn't exist in remaining stuck. One must be able and allowed to adapt, embrace positive changes, and build an education system with a firm foundation that seeks to provide vital knowledge. Knowledge such as how to discern between that which will benefit united communities as a whole rather than certain individuals based purely on their status, wealth, or otherwise. All in all, a pencil properly utilized that causes growth is a felled tree honored.
Pen ponders patiently,
Distracted by worlds illusory,
Yawning yolks creativity,
Cracking distills delivery.
What makes a wrestled writer?
What makes a tongued tool?
What makes a special story?
​
What makes a you, you?
​
Gift given is freedom of speech,
Free from fear not responsibility.
​
Silence surrenders,
It does not teach.
Open mouths,
Mangled media,
Melancholy.
Balance or barrier,
Thin linguistic line.
Brain noodles turn limp,
Words set fire to the mind.
Mute voices can't cry.
Writers tell tales;
Writers,
Dictators,
Dictate.
Writers puppeteer puppets,
Writers fight fate.
Why does calligraphy consistently create?
Why voice the voiceless?
What does justice negate?
Why survive,
If in living,
New paths aren't paved?