The Pen and The Gun

By Chris Commodore © 2007

A pen I am, and you, a gun;
Let’s do this debate just for fun.
Let’s see which one’s maneuver,
Will force mankind to quiver.

Go first gun, take your best shot;
I’ll wager you my ink pot.
Then while the people scatter.
Watch me sway them back together.

If there is merchandise to sell,
Or juicy story fine to tell;
One needs a pen not firearm,
Since guns do signal dreadful harm.

I pen contend my killer friend,
Imagination you can’t lend.
You’re such a vain, vile, vicious tool.
Gun, you are never cool.

Please spare me with that silly stunt;
That people need guns just to hunt.
I still say all man use guns for,
Is to kill friend and neighbor.

I, gun, dear pen, am just as cool;
It’s man who is the fool.
It’s he who’s always waging war,
And never knows what for.

A gun I am, and that is all.
I swear, like you I’m friend to all.
If not for crime I’m hired,
Then loaded, aimed and fired.

I am obedient just as you,
And quite productive, too.
And when I’m put to proper use,
I can disprove man’s lame excuse.

When did you ever see me,
Common, be frank and tell me;
Crawl down from off a secure shelf;
Can I do so all by myself?

You cannot fire fatal shots;
But some unguided careless tots,
May find and drink the ink in you;
Could that kill someone too?

Despicable, what silly thought;
My ink is hidden, concealed taut.
But look at you with barrels bare.
You create panic everywhere.

Just set on me a safety lock,
Hide me not in some silly sock.
Nor tuck me in a bedside drawer,
By some misguided loser.

Wild fear you’ve caused, continue to;
Great lines I’ve penned, not just a few;
The lives you’ve snuffed, no end to it.
No gun will ever have such wit.

All right, we two in sense and mood,
With all intentions true and good,
Both you and I are useful tools,
Unless misused by callous fools.