A poem about loss of identity.


Place A Finger On The Oven When You're Cold

While I'm lonely, sick, and twisty
All around me is a demon
Shouting loudly like a freeman
He cannot decide on nothing
He is very lost on something
His good judgement is so misty

What Good Judgement?
What Good Deed?
Have you got the mouths to feed?
You won't satisfy your greed
'Til the tree's replaced the seed
But until then it is clear
You are not that far from here

I remind you every time
But you loose your right from wrong
Not because your love is gone
Just because it's been too long
Your illusion's standing fast
May I see if it can last?
Is that such a hateful crime?

What Is Hateful?
What Is Spite?
Can you fill your heart to fight?
Can you leave your home tonight?
Take the subway to delight?
If it's cold you place your finger
On the oven while you linger

Oceans wave on by like wind
Always faceless, though unique
Never faltering or weak
Like a wise and firm critique
Of a symphony or beat
Of these are not so sweet
There's a book I'd recommend

What Is Sweet?
What Is Wise?
Can you stain yourself with lies?
If it true, then do reprise
Do not reach a compromise
If you do, then you lie down
Listen to your temples pound


In the end you have no coal
Dying embers of your soul
Laughing, shaking, biting, lie

Now you're placeless

Now embrace this

Place your finger on the oven

When you're cold and when your faceless


You loose color in your eye

Say goodbye, Say goodbye



Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 464 times
Written on 2007-03-30 at 06:49

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